#I’m taking stuff out of my bookshelf to move things around

[jaejoongs-nipple-piercing]

“I’m Professor Changmin. Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.”

[eddiernunson]

Ice Cream, Bikinis, and Other Ways To Torture Him | Older Rockstar!Eddie x Harrington Fem!Reader | 18+

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Summary: The stories of Eddie Munson, front man of Corroded Coffin and his music filled the Harrington household, his albums on shelves and picture frames hung of your dad and him, young and dumb. You’re home for the weekend, which just so happens to be the same weekend Eddie is in Hawkins on a personal errand. The longtime crush on him bubbles to the surface as you meet him, giving into the temptation of small summer dresses and bubblegum gloss for the fun of it. Until your dad is called in to an emergency work meeting. Then the fun of torture becomes temptation.

Warnings: Older Rockstar!Eddie, Harrington!Reader (Steve’s daughter), multichapter build up, excessive use of nicknames, no use of y/n, use of marijuana, perv!Eddie, this chapter has some forced proximity, tension and uh oh feelings.

Describes: long hair, shorter than Eddie by a few inches, reader is described to look like her mom (can be ANY race) with Steve’s freckles. No skin colour, body shape/type

Word Count: 3.7k (it’s the shortest one, I promise I’m so sorry 😭)

Chapter 2

The first thing you did when you got into Eddie Munson’s little red corvette was peel the window open, claiming you had just needed some fresh air. It was true, as his scent had choked you as soon as you sat down on the dark gray leather seats. It’s strangely intoxicating, an odd mix of smoke, woodsy, and pure man that has you wanting to take a big whiff like some little pervert.

Strangely even from the window of a rockstar’s corvette the little town looked no more glamorous than it did from your beat up car, the small town feel of it all suffocating as you fill with gratitude you managed to get out. He finally pulls in front of a three story apartment, white walls and balconies so small they make you claustrophobic.

“Uh, how are we supposed to fill this small car with all your uncle’s stuff?” You ask, peering into the backseat as you undo your seatbelt.

He smiles, his eyes momentarily switching between the backseat of the two door car and you. “My van is in the resident’s parking lot, it should have plenty of room to move stuff over.”

“So, donation, your place and your uncle’s place, I’m guessing?” You ask, walking a step behind him to the front door of the building.

“Pretty much. It just comes down to going through it which I know, will be a fucking pain.” He reaches your eyes, giving you a small smile. “Thanks for coming.”

You didn’t have much of a choice.

“Not that you had much of a choice,” he adds as he opens the apartment door, a small bout of laughter filling the halls.

Okay, that was weird.

His uncle lived on the first floor in the corner room in a furnished spot, so all it came down to were the knicknacks he had collected over the years. You didn’t think that’d be so bad until you walked in, your eyes landing on wall to wall collections of mugs and hats and other tiny sentimental things.

“Pretty sure we’re going to end up donating most of the mugs, he doesn’t use them anyway, it’s the hats he’s been fighting tooth and nail for,” he rolls his eyes, grabbing a moving box you haven’t noticed from a stack in a pile against the wall.

“How’d those get here?”

“My assistant brought them with the van,” he explains, setting the box up. “He’s hanging out around town until we pack the van up.”

“Must be nice to have an assistant to take care of that shit,” you muse, your voice only the teeniest bit bitter about it.

He passes you the box, his shoulders shaking in laughter. “I’m aware it sounds pretentious. I only hired him when I kept losing track of which fucking thing I had to do next. Interview, show, interview, photo shoot…it was fucking never ending at times. Sometimes I needed a reminder to fucking eat.”

You grab the box from him, ignoring the twinge in your gut as you walk up to a bookshelf in the corner of the small living room containing many little things. You know time is of the essence, but you can’t help yourself, leaning over to analyze the display his uncle had created. There’s a photo in the center in a simple wooden frame, a gruff older man who you supposed would be Wayne standing arm in arm with Eddie, a much younger, freer Eddie, at least, standing outside in front of a forest area.

Eddie has his hand on his hip, squinting his eyes against the sun with his uncle's arm wrapped around his shoulder. If you’d looked closer, you’d see their reddened faces, blotchy from tears shed but both gritting their teeth for the picture.

“That was the day I left for LA,” you jump at his voice, holding your chest tightly as you turn to look around to face him.

He’s still across the apartment, wrapping the mugs and storing them in a tupperware box. “I have never seen him cry like that in my life. I was scared shitless.”

You avoid his stare, the starry eyed version of him something you’re not quite used to, something stirs deep in your gut that you find oddly unsettling.

In an attempt to ignore it you look closer at the knick knacks surrounding it, suddenly realizing it was just Corroded Coffin merch, tickets, and even demos. “These would be worth a pretty penny,” you turn over the tape in your hand, imagining a rough draft of Eddie’s untuned, inexperienced vocals. “To you, they must be priceless.”

“I could release them if I’d really wanted to, but the songs suck and my voice was even worse,” Eddie shrugs, still moving mugs into their different boxes. You notice how much fuller the one on the left is, Eddie making actual progress in comparison to your dilly-dallied snooping.

“I bet Wayne still wants this.” You sigh, placing the memorabilia gently in the cardboard box, admiring the faded ink from ticket stubs over twenty years ago. The following shelf had a full row of dark fantasy novels, every spine cracked to oblivion with yellowed crinkled pages. “Do you want these?”

Eddie looks over, absentmindedly wrapping a mug when he double, triple takes, his face lighting up like a kid on Christmas. “Oh I thought he threw those away!”

Suddenly the scent of his cologne invades your nose again as he leans right next to you, grabbing at one of the books on the shelf with a giddy grin. “I used to reread these all the time.”

“Princesses needing rescuing in some odd faraway land?” You tease, turning the dark green book over in your hand.

“Usually with some kind of twist,” he hums, analyzing the back of his paperback as he squats his ass an inch over the floor. “Dragons being in cahoots, noble knights acting selfishly, evil kings turning out to be righteously good… there was always some sort of twist,” his narration turned dramatic as the sentence moved on, a story teller’s voice.

It reminded you of one specific fun fact. “Uncle Dustin said you were his dungeon master in high school, were these any inspiration?”

Eddie’s brows furrow deeply, jerking his head as swivels sharply upward. “Somehow it’d slipped my mind that you would know Dust.”

You nod absentmindedly, taking in the fantastical names in the description. Lysandra the princess, Eletha the fae, King Alistair… “Unfortunately.”

“Hmm,” he peeps, fluttering through the pages. “Aah, Sorceress Nyrinn teaching Lysandra basic magic, this takes me back.”

You smile down at him, how his dimples are deeply embedded in his cheeks and his front canines peek from behind that wide grin as he skims through his harlequin equivalent chock full of fantasy and adventure.

“Any of these girls you’ve ever fantasized about rescuing?” You tease him, starting to toss the books in a box labeled Eddie Home. He remains silent, even a pink tinge dusting his ears. “I was joking, sire.”

“Just keep packing,” he grumbles, tossing the book carelessly into your very organized box. “I’m gonna go take a quick smoke break.”

You find yourself fallen into an easy pattern, having figured out what Eddie’s looking to keep very early on. He’s even willing to go through the boxes that have been long stored at Wayne’s apartment, insisting they don’t need any dead weight, not in Wayne’s small sized room, and not lugged across a few state lines back in LA.

One of the boxes stored in Wayne’s closet seems like it was just thrown together until you realize they were all belongings of a teenage boy. A soft smile graces your face as you imagine Wayne unable to part with the little part of seventeen year old Eddie he still had with him, even if it’s his messy room thrown into a box.

You pick up a small shoe box, the items clunkily jumping about when you shake it. It’s only logical that the box should hold a few dozen player’s dice and painted figurines. The box’s heavy weight is largely contributed to by the worn out and outdated version of the player’s manual.

You take note of the sticky notes curled and faded peeking out of the pages, messy scrawl noting a page Eddie must’ve used for referral once or twice.

One set of dice had a familiar red and plank pattern, painted to look like his prized guitar. You smooth your thumb along the ridged paint, putting the box aside for Eddie despite the protests he will so obviously yelp out.

He deserves to be a bit more forgiving of that side of himself.

There were a handful of items you picked up and put aside for donation, a few old music tapes, a guitar string placement poster, until something catches your eye; a well loved classified notebook.

Now, you might’ve been wrong, but you always had the feeling that Eddie wasn’t too interested in his school work, all items from his locker having been tossed in the garbage the moment the last bell rang each year. As you tentatively open the book, you realize it was probably the one thing that kept him going back.

Each lined paper was filled with his messy scrawl, an intriguing combination of cursive and print, extensively detailed plans for his run as, so Dustin called him, a vindictive and tyrannical dungeon master. Across the scrawl were doodles, well shaded pencil drawings of creatures and classes alike. One page caught your eye towards the end, a full page of scattered doodles that seemed eerily familiar to you.

“Wow.” You look up to face Eddie leaned against the door frame with his arms across his chest, his eyes trained on the notebook in your hands. “I haven’t seen that in a while.”

You glance back down to the page and its doodles, still trying to make sense of where you could’ve seen it. As if plucked out of thin air, a song starts playing in your head and it clicks. “Hey you used these doodles on an album cover.”

He nods, watching your hands gently touch the graphite on the paper. “You could totally donate these to a rock and roll museum; they'd think it's dope.”

Eddie shakes his head, as if the idea was ridiculous. “No one wants to see my ratty old notebook filled with my dateless evenings. There’s not even a single lyric in there.”

“But this is on one of your albums, isn’t it?”

He nods, smiling softly at the abstract doodles before glancing up to you. “I don’t want it, I would never look at it. Take it, if you want.”

You were already tempted to steal it, the notebook having a scent that’s so specifically Eddie with an added elixir of teenage boy added to the mix making maybe your one true Kryptonite. “Whaaaaat? Why would I take it?”

“Steve said you’re a fan of our music, yeah?” You nod meekly, still tracing the graphite. “Well if not, it's going in the trash.”

You put it in your purse.

Since your father left that morning, so did the tether that kept your head on straight, any lingering ideas kept at bay as you kept a safe distance. It was gone.

Keeping a safe distance as an act of self discipline all but seemed moot when your dad offered your services, now stuck in a tiny apartment working around Eddie as his gentle voice hums to the music blasting through his phone.

Maybe a dress isn’t the best choice to wear for manual labor such as packing and moving boxes, the length obviously not long enough to cover the bright underwear. Maybe it's the little allowance you give yourself to indulge in defiance against your own rule. Regardless, it was safer to stay as far away as possible.

Fate proves herself to be a cruel mistress as you find yourself on your tiptoes, reaching up to grab something on a shelf you wondered why someone elderly had a shelf stored so high on the wall, and you smelt him before you felt him, reaching to the shelf’s level to grab it for you.

“Why the hell did he have a shelf this fuckin’ high for?” He huffs, tossing the hidden box onto the bed.

He steps away as fast as he came, leaving the room with a few boxes you had packed and ready. The moment clouds your brain, his strong torso completely against your back, his hot breath on your neck as he stepped away. What the hell?

Your heart pitter patters, your whole body frazzled while you put a few more boxes by the door.

As you’re leaning down to pick up another box you hear Eddie swear loudly down the hall in disgust. He uses the lord’s name in vain several times, rubbing his hand on his pants as his face twists up in utter revulsion when you peek out to see the culprit.

“Somethin’ gross? I don’t see anything wrong with this picture,” you comment, looking around his setting for what might have set him off.

“Don’t–” his hands fly up to prevent you from taking another step. His overly wide eyes and panicked state would usually have you laughing if you weren’t so curious to what could possibly send him into this frantic state of disgust. “You don’t want to know, trust me.”

“Now I really do want to know,” you insist, still scanning the room.

“No. You don’t.” He shakes his head solemnly, his foot slowly shuffling slightly to his left. “Seriously.”

“Can I at least have a hint?” You plead, knowing the possibilities will drive you crazy all day.

“I just found a box of my old clothes,” Eddie starts, gesturing to a kaleidoscope of different shades of black with an occasional band font, unfolded as if thrown in a hurry.

He obviously is hinting towards something, but you need some more exposition. “...Ok?”

Eddie pauses to think, hands on his hips as he racks his brain for something. “Think of it this way. Think of the one item of clothing you don’t want to find under a teenage boy’s bed, twenty years later. Especially twenty years later.” He shudders again.

The one thing…oh. “Oh my god,” you giggle, hiding your obvious glee over his disgust behind your hand. “A…sock?”

Eddie nods slowly, nodding his head in what must be mortification. “Uh huh. I am burning this whole bucket of clothes that just–” he shudders, his left foot inching towards where you had to now guess what must be an absolutely petrified cum-sock lies, “marinated in it.”

A bout of laughter passes through your lips again, disguising the odd intrigue you found yourself in. You might be more perverted than even you initially realized.

No, put away the thought of inhaling in the 20-year-old musk–

“Hey, do you mind helping me with this box? It’s ridiculously heavy,” Eddie gestures down the hall to a tote seemingly filled to the brim with random shit, the sock supposedly tossed into the garbage by then.

“No problem.”

“You want me to walk backward?” He offers, reaching your eyes as you both bend over to grab at the awkward edges.

“Yeah that’d be great,” You cough, failing to ignore the cigarette on his breath just barely disguised by the mint.

Step by step you help him around the corners until you help lift the box into his van, refusing to allow yourself more than a singular moment lingering on how his arms bulge through the lift.

Wayne had a bedside table he hadn’t gone through, filled with momentums over the years. You grab one of the smaller boxes from the living room to hold them, wanting to take care of the things that Wayne had cared for. There were a few photos, Eddie in scattered years from an angsty teenager to a rowdy kid with a missing front tooth. It was obvious everything in his bedside would be moved back to Wayne, allowing him his precious memories of the boy he cared for.

Allotted between the table and the bed is a photo album, something you suspect is cover to cover filled with more photos until you get the glimpse of a brightly coloured pape, just a millisecond but enough to peak your curiosity.

By the second page you’re in tears, softly sniffling at messy scribblings with silly puns and elaborate doodles.

“Hey, when you get a sec–” Eddie stops mid-sentence, taking you in on the bare bed as you weepily turn a page. “You okay?”

“Oh,” you wipe away the tear that was shed, embarrassed. “I’m fine. It’s just— it’s so obvious he went through this a lot, some pages are worn out.”

“Let’s see,” he holds his hand out for the photo album, a drop of weight on the bed as he peers shoulder to shoulder with you as he reads over the pages in front of you. “Oh, wow.”

You put the book in his outstretched hands, watching his expression turn misty as well. The deceitful photo album is an album of father’s day cards, about twenty of them all lined in a row with Eddie’s well wishes in each one.

“I started sending them when I was 25,” he mumbles, his voice wet as he turns a page. “I figured since he raised me n’ all, he deserved the title and the recognition.”

“Seems like he felt honored,” you comment, watching page by page.

“I picked these cards out in less than a second but he puts them in a pressed fucking photo album,” he laughs, shaking his head. “Wayne is ridiculous. But he’s always been my biggest supporter.”

Impulsively, you nudge your chin on his shoulder affectionately, watching him flip through the last through the final few pages. You wondered if his vulnerability making you even crazier for him would be an isolated incident.

God sure had a sick sense of humor when he tied emotion and lust for women.

Turns out, you two work remarkably well together because by the time Eddie places the photo album in the box with a not so subtle sniffle, Wayne’s room, kitchen, and livingroom are all packed up and ready for distribution. The things going home with Eddie and to Wayne’s room are in the van stacked like tetris with your very ‘helpful’ commentary and the donations are piled up by the front door waiting for their collection.

The little red corvette has been sitting in the hot sun for a few hours by the time you’re back into it, ready for a night off your feet.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving,” Eddie comments, taking a turn away from your house.

Your stomach growls at the mention of food, still only two slices of toast being the one thing used to sustain your appetite for the day. “I could definitely eat.”

“Good, I need to thank you for your help.”

You avoid his intense gaze from the corner of your eye, staring holes into your thighs. “It was nothing–”

“What’s your favourite spot in town?” Eddie seems to be ignoring your protests, meeting them with an exaggerated huff as if you were acting foolish.

“I don’t mind if you take me to the nearest one, Munson. I’m starving,” you insist, laughing at the manic shaking of his head.

“I’m not taking you anywhere except your favorite spot,” Eddie insists right back, without missing a beat.

No wonder he and Steve had managed to stay friends for so long, he matches your stubbornness step for step.

“Fine! Take me to Miss.Tina’s I haven’t had their burgers since I’ve been back,” you think back to their fully stacked burgers paired with their crinkle fries drizzled in mustard. You still haven’t been able to find a burger from a local restaurant near your campus that even rivals Miss.Tina’s recipe.

“Oh, I know you’re fucking with me,” Eddie laughs, taking the left turn at the traffic lights.

“Nope,” you inform him, shaking your head slowly. “It’s always been my favourite place in town.”

“Well call that dumb luck, because it’s my fuckin’ favourite place, too.”

“I take it back.”

You laugh at his deadpan, noting the new decor around the walls since the last time you’ve seen it.

“It’s not that bad.” It is, you’re just hoping he doesn’t leave because of the change.

“Are you shitting me?” Eddie deadpans, glancing around to the updated insides now turned into a hollow husk of a restaurant. At least, it certainly felt like the funeral march of your once beloved restaurant. “It’s a horrendous study in interior design. Who the hell paints the inside of a restaurant bright orange?”

“Ok, it’s that bad, but I just need a damn good burger.” You lead the way into the line, noting their updating point of sale. Last time you were there the employee had still been using a notepad, this time an iPad had been stationed on a stand.

The employee now wears some updated uniform barring the design, a bright smile on her face as she greets the two of you. Definitely not the deadened stare you were used to.

The mustard packet you received was a third of the size of what they used to be. It seems Miss.Tina’s has finally met empty corporate capitalism.

The decor might’ve changed, but the recipes remain as always untouched, a collective groan in satisfaction in your first bites in the tacky booth confirmation that Miss.Tina’s still fucks.

“If they change their recipe they are so screwed,” Eddie says exactly what you’re thinking between bites, wiping his face from the sauces that splatters his lips. As he wipes it off, you start to think of making out with him in the booth and lapping up and cleaning his messy face for him. Some real good messy make outs.

You nod, taking a sip from the large soda that must be at least 5 ounces smaller. “Oh, they’d shut down within the week.”

“This was one of the only few places where every group in Hawkins High could be seen, because they didn’t care when we loitered and Miss.Tina treated us like her own.” Eddie glances upward at a sign right by the table, NO LOITERING.

“That’s kind of really depressing,” you sigh, munching on your fry through a fucking wooden fork. “I am not sure I want these fries lathered in mustard enough to also add the taste of wood to it.”

“Plenty of wood has been tasted in these walls before,” Eddie smirks, raising his pierced brow when you choke on the following fry.

It’s like he prides himself on how he manages to make your brain short circuit so easily. Thankfully, years of being raised in the Harrington household has trained a keen sense of wit into you. “Judging on those princess books, Munson,” you take another sip, letting the beginning of your sentence settle in, “doesn’t seem like yours was one of them.”

The fry that bounced off your forehead the moment after was worth it, and the rosy pink that bloomed across his cheeks was even more so.

-

I have 99% done at this point I’m so excited for y’all to read it!!!

Main taglist: @arlxt @alastorssimp @mmunson86 @pinkcowracing @yourthebrokengirl @skrzydlak @thirddeadlysin @sammararaven @bebe07011 @prettylovley @josephquinnschesthair @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you @names-were-taken @oddussy420

Taglist for Ice Cream, Bikinis, and Other Ways To Torture Him: @emxxblog @transparentenemypenguin @stylesxmunson @ali-r3n @mediocredreams @miaajaade @dreamerjj @prestinalove @pretty-pink-princess @alesiaaa @moonisu @love-anonymous-writer @marlena-marlena @bl1ssfulbaby @kellsck @rockmusiciscalming12 @eddie-munsonsbitch

[almondmilktargaryen]

The Girl Who's Got Agoraphobia (Part One)

*pictures not mine. layout made via canva

Summary: You're the girl with agoraphobia Michael told Oliver about. You're known for not leaving your room much (obviously). But that doesn't stop Michael from checking on you.

Couple: Fem!Reader/Michael Gavey

Category: Flangst, friends to lovers

Content warnings: Agoraphobia stuff, pretentious dark academia vibes with English literature (no, I’m not sorry)

Word count: 1.4k

A/N: as someone with agoraphobia, I saw an opportunity to make something cute, so I pounced. Enjoy :)

Also on my Ao3

Part one | Part two | Part three | Part four

Class of 2006

From your window, you see your classmates disperse across campus. They stumble together, arms around necks and howling to the sky so loud, like wannabe werewolves. You can hear them from your window. Most of them seem to stumble toward the Botanic Gardens (which are closed) or to the Christ Church Meadow to gawk at cows and pass out in the grass before sunrise.

And all you can think is, thank God.

Thank God that you chose not to go to that dinner. You saw the setup whenever you passed the dining hall between classes. The tables looked narrow and the chairs were so close together, that there was no way you were going to snag a seat at the end. All those chairs in one room. It was enough to make you panic at the idea of being there. You would have definitely needed an escape plan before the first course was even served.

No, instead you preferred watching your classmates from your big chair, surrounded in the comfort of night, your things, and solitude while they clattered atop one another like drones in a hive. It only confirms that you made the right choice.

The knock on your door, however, briefly makes you question otherwise, but only for a moment. The adrenaline taking course from your heart to your limbs nearly made your knees buckle and force you back down to your seat. It obviously wasn’t your roommate, Venitia. She moved out two weeks into the semester because you never left the room (her words). You did leave your room, though. Just when it was essential: class, studying, and eating. Optional dinners to celebrate the class of 2006 were simply nonessential. So the word of you being the girl with agoraphobia spread quickly. You heard about it when you left your room, of course.

But when the adrenaline finally kicked it down a notch and you could step forward, you did so carefully with arched feet and great hesitancy. The doors are so thick and old, that it’s difficult to hear the old floors creak with weight shifts. Your eye follows the light from your peephole. Its faintness matches the atmosphere of your candles, except you can see the dust particles ebbing and flowing in the tiny beam. Your hand was already on the knob, though, because you knew who it was. You just had to make sure. You swallowed as you opened the door, your heart still pumping.

“Michael, hi.” You try to sound put together and keep your legs straight and unmoving as you lean on the door.

Michael Gavey, an actual genius and basically your only friend at this pretentious place, grins as you stand in the doorway. His Cheshire Cat lips curl as he says hello. He was one of the kindest people here, as evidenced by the plate in his hands, wrapped in clingfilm. The condensation was prevalent from the steam. “I brought you some dinner.” He holds it out for you to take.

And of course, you took it (while trying not to smile too widely). He was a good friend. “Thank you,” you eventually say. The plate was weighty with a hefty portion of quiche and lamb chops. You cock your head to the side, encouraging Michael to come in. “You didn’t have to do this for me.”

“It wasn’t a problem,” Michael said. He drops his satchel by the door as per usual. “I asked the staff to save a plate for you since you said you weren’t coming.”

You shut the door behind him. He takes his spot on the floor, next to your bookshelf. Most of his classes this semester involved maths (which was something you also bonded over. You both don’t like maths). He doesn’t get to indulge in the classics as much as he would want, so he takes the time to steal a novel from you when the two of you hang out in your room (often). He’s a horrible thief because he ends up giving them back. And if he’s feeling extra generous, he’ll slide it back exactly where he found it in the bookcase. You rarely remember where they originally were, but Michael manages to recall every time. Then you’ll discuss what he read. He loves literary analysis. You can see the way his eyes light up.

It was surprisingly easy to be natural with one another, considering he was bloody awkward when you met at orientation this past summer. You grew close quickly when discussing The Picture of Dorian Gray after discovering a statue of Oscar Wilde near the Pitt Rivers Museum. While you focused on the symbolism of vanity, Michael spoke about how corruption destroys everyone in the end. You also talked about Oscar Wilde and how certain (non-straight) elements of his life bled into his works. So it was surprising to find out that Michael’s major focused on mathematics and science.

You grab a fork from one of the kitchenette drawers before sitting across from Michael. You unwrap the plate and immediately go for a lamb chop. Meaty, with actual flavor. You chew and cover your mouth with your hand. “So how was it?” You asked him.

Michael shrugs. “Unremarkable, mostly. Nothing too surprising.”

You swallow. “Hm.”

“Hm, what?”

“You usually have more complaints over events like these. So something positive must have happened.” You didn’t want to ask further, out of fear you might learn something you’d rather not. “Did you meet someone?”

“Oh, I did.”

You inhale. “Who?”

“Another new student. Name’s Oliver Quick.”

You exhale. And you feel better.

“Quiet. Mostly odd, but,” he shrugs, “I’m not one to talk.” He snickers as he looks at you. It’s the classic dorky snicker that nerds in TV shows and movies always get assigned. To you, it’s sweet, because he doesn’t show it often.

You pick up some quiche. “Do you think he’ll like it here?”

“He’s not one for conversation, really. I had to pull words out of him most of the night. He wouldn’t even ask me a sum when I told him how good I am at maths. I served the topic on a silver platter.”

A pun was there as you swallowed, looking down at your own silver platter. But you know Michael is cross enough when he can’t see the joke in front of him. So you took another bite.

“So, he seems as hopeless at making friends as we are. I guess we’ll find out.”

“Where’d he go after?”

“Dunno,” he said. “I came straight here.”

That forces you to smile. The candles burn around you, hot like your cheeks. The heat prickles and you hope it’s not too obvious in the light.

Michael continues to smile at you, unchanging, so it seems you’re in the clear. And it’s not long until he leans back to gaze at your bookshelf. He points to the empty space in the middle. “What did you read today?”

“Virginia Woolf,” you reply.

“Oh, which one?”

“A Room of One’s Own. A memoir.”

“Ugh.” He scrunches his nose. He hates memoirs. He’s often informed you about how he thinks too many people write memoirs. But he habitually picked the Kate Chopin works from your shelf, so his opinion instantly becomes a moot point. Luckily, he finds them interesting enough to read on his own, so you’re spared from explaining why the main character ultimately hates being married. He picks out The Awakening. And then he looks at you after scanning the synopsis. “What?”

“Ugh.” You copy his tone.

“Don’t be cross with me because you enrolled late. Would you really have rather taken the one about Fitzgerald?”

“At least he and Zelda are more interesting behind the scenes.”

“Ouch.” Michael puts his hand over his chest, a pained expression on his face. “A burning statement from someone who calls themselves a feminist.”

“If I wanted stories about women who hated being married, I’d be at home with my mum and aunts.”

Michael hesitates to snicker again. “Okay, fair point.”

“You can keep that for a few days if you want. I won’t need that until December.”

“You’re not eager to read about…” he squinted at the back of the book. “Edna Potellier?”

“And the sexual awakening that makes her realize she doesn’t want to be a wife and mother anymore? Again? Not until I have to.”

“Wow. Antifeminist and serving spoilers. Your cruelty is limitless.”

You try to kick him. Then again, ‘try’ is a strong word. He dodges anyway before finding the first page.

[lonesome-sometimes]

up on the bookshelf

wheels on the bus 2 and it’s completely different because there is no bus or any form of transport at all really and matty is a librarian but it’s still wheels on the bus 2 (in the brat remix album cover format)

that was until a certain someone sitting behind the librarian desk caused you to drop them abruptly, sending a loud echo throughout the near silent building.

“matty?” you say in disbelief.

matty healy x female reader

content warnings: public sex, sweet service top matty, age gap, oral (female receiving), slight blood kink when you squint, lovey dovey stuff because I miss matty I’m genuinely a trainwreck right now

minors do not interact!

with your reading list in one hand, you huff in annoyance as you fail to find the last few textbooks you needed for the rest of the semester. admitting your defeat, you carry the rest of your books towards the front desk, already dreading the walk back to campus on the other side of town.

that was until a certain someone sitting behind the librarian desk caused you to drop them abruptly, sending a loud echo throughout the near silent building.

“matty?” you say in disbelief.

he looks up from the book he was engrossed in, startled by the loud thud. he takes a second to register who you were, scrambling to push his bookmark into place before turning his full attention towards you. “y/n? oh my go- hey! hey, how are you? god, I haven’t seen you since-”

“since the really, really long and awkward bus ride home with your wife in our presence after you-” you explain nonchalantly, causing the older to choke on his own spit as you remind him of your rest stop bathroom antics, not that he had ever forgotten.

he laughs nervously, pushing a hand through his shorter curls. “I mean, I guess? anyway, what are you doing here?”

“oh, I go to college here.” you say like its obvious, gesturing to nothing as you look around the empty room. “I just hate our campus library, or just our campus in general I suppose, so I come here to study and take my books out. It’s much quieter here, campus is too…studenty?”

he laughs with you, chuckling softly at how ridiculous it sounded. “I get your point, but aren’t you meant to like, enjoy all of that?” he thinks for a moment, shaking his head softly. “nevermind, that’s not the point. this is crazy, what a nice surprise I-”

“you have a moustache now.” you observe out loud, your tongue working quicker than your brain as your eyes lingered on his upper lip and the new strip of hair there, moving down towards the tight sleeves of his grey tshirt and admiring the way it hugged his frame perfectly. “...and you look like you’ve been working out…don’t tell me you…”

his cheeks tinge pink, swinging his chair slightly away from you as he lets out a nervous breath. “I told he, I mean, not about us! not exactly, I just told her how I felt and here I now am, working day shifts at the local library, waiting for my whole music thing to take off, while she vacates on some island somewhere with her neeew husband.” he draws out the new, politely taking a book from an older lady and wishing her a nice day, turning back towards you. “I’m happy here though, the people are nice and well, you’re here.”

It’s your turn to blush at his words, forgetting how sweet he had been with you in the bathroom moments after he had fucked your throat raw. “oh, come on matty, it’s not like you sat and dreamt about me everyday like a fairytale princess waiting for her prince to come…” you half joke half admit about yourself, causing his cheeks to turn a darker shade of pink at the comparison, his secrets spilling without having even said anything.

“oh I seeee.” you singsong as you lean forward, putting your hands on the desk so that you were leaning over him, letting your oversized tshirt fall off your shoulder slightly and revealing your collarbone. not the most flattering outfit you could have worn, but you weren’t exactly expecting your random one bus stand to show up anytime soon. “been thinking about me, matty?”

he visibly swallows, opening his mouth to answer but instead his eyes widen as a mother and daughter approach the desk. you stand up straight again, slightly embarrassed as you pull your tshirt centre again. you watch the exchange, matty smiling ever so sweetly as he hands the young girl her picture book and again wishes them a lovely day. he turns to you once more, sighing softly. “darling, I don’t think now is a good time, I’m working and-”

“matty, I managed to seduce you into fucking my throat with enough time for small talk afterwards inside the bathroom of a service station during a twenty minute rest stop, all while your wife-”

“-ex wife.” he corrects, smiling softly.

“...ex wife, was sitting back on the bus unaware of how her sweet little husband was crying for me and asking me about my favourite radiohead album, and you’re gonna sit here and tell me you can’t have a private conversation with me because you’re at work?”

theres a moment of silence as he looks between you and the empty room, standing up suddenly and grabbing your hand as he pulls you back towards an abandoned section of the library. smiling wide, you expect him to push you up against one of the old bookcases and start kissing you like a man starved as he pulls you in front of him, but it never comes.

Instead, he pulls you in. hands coming up around your waist, he hugs you. unexpected and unsure of what to do at first, you let your arms come up around his shoulders, pulling him in closer as you stroke the hair on the back of his neck softly, letting him breathe you in as you stay silent for a moment.

he pulls away, the both of you laughing as you realise how ridiculous this is, not having shared more than ten minutes alone together that didn’t include a quickie in a restroom. “everything okay, matty?” you ask, pushing his hair away from his face and letting your hand rest against his cheekbones as he nods.

“I wanted to erm, thank you, for helping me realise things about my life and marriage, I might not look like anything special at the moment but since meeting you I’ve been able to find my own place, I have a kitten who I adore, and I actually get to work on my music I-” he stops. “I’m really happy y/n, and I owe that to you.”

for a second you’re worried he’s being completely serious. “m-matty, you surely can’t fully believe I’m to blame for all that, you barely even know me I-”

he starts kissing down your collarbone, letting your tshirt fall again as he sinks down down down till he’s almost kneeling in front of you, his hands coming up towards your tshirt, breathing heavy. “no really darling, thank you so, so much.” he breaths, punctuating each so with a wet kiss to your stomach, kissing and licking at each expanse of skin he can reach. your hand comes up to cover your mouth, the other moving to hold the back of hid head through the fabric of your shirt. somehow this felt much more intimate, more naughty, than the restroom ever did.

he reappears from under your shirt, staring up at you with complete adoration as his fingers dance up your thighs and hooking themselves into the waistband of your leggings. “can I please?” he asks ever so politely, although your pants are already being pulled down low enough so that he can access where he wanted before you had chance to answer. your face was on fire.

“been thinking about doing this since I met you, wanted to taste you so bad darling.” he breaths out against you sending goosebumps across your skin, lips so close to you as he teases before finally settling on your core.

you desperately try to stay quiet, the fact that you were both in a library being some sick torture and punishment for engaging in infidelity beforehand because good god was he good with his tongue, licking and sucking at your clit like he was desperate. his large hands almost enveloped your waist, holding you in place as he began to fuck you on his tongue up against the shelf behind you. you thread your fingers through his salt and pepper locks, frowning when it was a little too short to pull. still, you let your fingers stay where they were, your lips bitten red as you tried to conceal your noises.

suddenly he stops, pulling away from you with only a trail of spit connecting the two of you, lips glistening with your wetness. you look down, brows furrowed in confusion as you try and catch your breathe. “w-why’d you stop?”

he giggles before diving in again like a teenager, his hands moving to hook around the backs of your thighs now. you moan around your fist, desperatly trying to stay as quiet as you can but failing miserably. he shushes you, the vibration from his vocal chords not helping your situation as you feel yourself quickly approaching the edge. “m-matty I-”

he pulls away for a small second, eyes wide and hungry. “please cum for me darling, need to feel you cum on my tongue-” he begs, quickly diving back in as he licks you through your orgasm, groaning softly as he feels you clench around his tongue, lapping at your folds as he cleans up your orgasm.

“fuck-” you bring a finger up towards your lip, blood pooling on your tongue from where you had to bite to keep quiet unless you wanted the whole library to hear you. he pulls your leggings back up and over your thighs, the both of you silently thanking somebody for the fact that nobody was looking for cooking books. he smiles up at you dopily, allowing himself to catch his breath before standing back up.

“good?” he breaths out, pulling your bloodied finger to his lips to lick it clean. You couldn’t find the words to answer, nodding as you watch his lips sucking your fingers entranced. He pulls off them with a pop, smiling at the way he left you speechless.

you both forget where you are until an older male comes around the corner, causing you both to jump away from each other. he doesn’t suspect much, why would he? shooting you both a small smile before turning and going back the way he came, sending you both laughing.

“so…” he begins as your giggles come to a stop, shuffling from foot to foot nervously. “I don’t actually finish up in here for another hour, but I could drive you back to campus? your books seemed heavy, and I’m guessing you don’t have a car…”

god, you were so smitten for him and you had only spent less than an hour with him alone at most. “...or I could come to yours?”

he smiles, thinking for a moment as you two start walking back towards the desk, to no surprise the place was still pretty much empty. “wanna see a picture of lilah?”

you squeal at the idea of singing his kitten, sending apologies to nobody at the sudden loud noise coming from you once again. “yes please.” you nod and whisper, the idea of seeing both matty and lilah filling you with warmth.

you were right, the local library was definitely better than the campus library.

[f9clementine]

The Hiccups

an “Enchanted To Meet You” anniversary mini-special

“Alright, this is the last box,” Minho announced as he came through the door, kicking it shut behind him. 

You looked up, unable to keep from smiling as he plopped the box labeled ‘useless kitchen stuff’ next to the couch. “We’ve officially moved, then. Now we just have to move in.” You pretended to turn back to the box you were unpacking, keeping an eye on the man out of your peripheral.

Without fail, he sauntered over, settling down next to you on the floor gracefully. “What’s the difference?”

“Moving is putting everything you own into a box and relocating them,” you reached into the box, pulling out a hardcover book. “Moving in is unpacking that box and then carefully putting those things in a new place,” you handed him the book and watched as he slid it onto the bookshelf you had been reshelving. “And then, rearranging them over and over until it finally feels like home.” You leaned over him, taking the same book and placing it onto a higher shelf.

“Well,” you felt his hands suddenly settle on your waist, gently pulling you closer until you were settled on his lap. “I didn’t realize that my jagi was so wise.”

You rolled your eyes, but wrapped your arms around his neck. “You say that like I’m a dummy or something.”

Min chuckled, his thumb finding an exposed sliver of skin between your shirt and jeans. You felt him begin to slowly rub it up and down, almost distracting you from his next words. “Not a dummy,” he quietly disputed, leaning in and nosing along your exposed neck. You felt, rather than heard, his words. “Just distracted by other things at times.”

You giggled, tilting your head back on almost instinct as he placed little kisses along your skin. “That’s an awfully nice way to put i-” 

Mew.

Minho pulled back, furrowing his brow as he looked at you, “did you hear that?”

You frowned, gingerly placing a hand to your chest. “I-I did.. I think it came from-”

Mew.

You both stared at each other, confused before you felt another hiccup bubbling up. Instead of the typical ‘hic!’ you were used to, you watched as your boyfriend’s eyes widened as a crystal clear ‘meow’ came forth instead.

The apartment was silent for a moment.

“Why am I meowing?” You asked, not really expecting the warlock in front of you to have an answer.

“Oh jagi,” Minho sighed, his hand moving to cradle your cheek. “It’s probably a side effect from the curse.”

“You don’t meow!” You cried, shoulders jumping as you let out another mew. 

“I also haven’t had the hiccups yet, so I might,” Minho soothed you, brushing his thumb across the top of your cheek. “I can ask the rest of the coven to look into getting rid of it, if you’d like.”

You raised an eyebrow, recognizing his tone. “But?” You prompted.

Minho smiled at you, bright like the sun rising in your own living room. “But,” he continued, leaning up and gently kissing your other cheek. “It’s very cute.”

“Cute enough we just leave it?”

Min shrugged, trailing his hand slowly down your neck and over your arm. “We could.” He suggested.

You groaned, knowing you were powerless in the face of this man. “Only on the condition we never tell Seungmin.”

Minho laughed, his hand now settling on yours where it rested on his chest. “Just Seungmin?”

You rolled your eyes, feeling his fingers thread through yours, “he would never let me live it down.”

“So what, you’ll just never hiccup in front of him ever again?”

“Exactly,” you nodded. “It’ll just stay our little secret.”

“Hmm… I like that.” Minho whispered. “Our little secret.”

“At least for a little bit,” you whispered back before leaning down, gently placing your lips against his.

“I’ll take your secret to the grave,” Minho swore and you giggled, unable to take him seriously. 

Right as you were about to suggest you both get back to unpacking, another sudden ‘meow’ replaced your words. You groaned, resting your head against Minho’s shoulder. “I hope I never get the hiccups at work, then.”

“If you do, you have to record it for me.”

You sighed, imagining the rows and rows of cats in the veterinarian office suddenly being offended at your pronunciation and the absolute giggles Minho would let out as he watched the playback. 

“Whatever you want, Min.”

a/n: It's the one year anniversary of starting Enchanted to Meet You and I wanted to celebrate it in a small, cutesy way by writing a cute little blurb of Minho and his Jagi.

I'm also hoping this will help me get back into a writing groove as well so please keep an eye out for more You Had Me at Hello chapters as well as my other little text fics!

[junicult]

I love how you write harvey sm!!! You had me swooning with every words !! So sweet, short, and straight to the point but very flavorful and entertaining! i'm so happy i came across your blog !

I have a prompt that u can feel free to use!

What do you think Harvey is like when he & the farmer just got married? For example, is he very timid that he couldn't sleep when next to the farmer? Is he very hesitant to hold them? Or other things u think/headcanon? Would love to read your thoughts! Thank you so much for your time !!<3

!! harvey as your new husband

contains ; domestic fluff. another post of me rambling lol. entirely sfw! gn!farmer / gender is never implied. short drabble.

note ; i’m in a harvey brainrot rn that every time i try to sit down to write for the other bachelors, i just end up staring at my screen doing nothing 😓

when you were only dating, it wasn’t rare for harvey to come over while you were working after he found some time of his own.

even once, after you invited him over and sighed about how dirty you felt the cottage was since you hardly had time to clean—he became accustomed to do so just for you.

bringing over his own cleaning supplies just to sweep the dust, help with laundry, clean your kitchen and make dinner for you.

and he didn’t even mind doing all of it, just to help you lift the weight of your chores.

so after that one time, and you came home to see a squeaky clean home, and your excellent boyfriend after a particularly exhausting day—you could’ve cried.

not to mention, he goes the great mile. those large yellow gloves over his hands, non-slip shoes and a hardware apron over his clothes so he wouldn’t get himself dirty.

some may say it’s a bit dramatic, but he says prepared.

anyways, it became a routine he was fond of doing.

harvey came over a lot. to the point where his own house didn’t really feel like home anymore.

he hated those nights when he couldn’t come over, forced to sleep in his own bed without you by his side. it would take him longer to fall asleep if he couldn’t feel you next to him. he probably had to hug a pillow just to feel something lol.

so when you got married, it’s safe to say he was ecstatic to be moving out of his lonely apartment. especially when you made time to come help him, packing stuff in boxes.

it really made him realize how life changing it is. to see you labeling each box, sorting through his cds and tapes while talking about your future together.

“i think these would look nice in our living room, i could move my bookshelf over and we could squeeze this in…” you ramble on, face full of concentration.

it made his heart gush, even just hearing you call it our living room.

when you’d “ooo” and “aaa” at items of his you looked forward to decorating the house with, and “uhh” at the ones you didn’t. he couldn’t possibly be upset, if anything, he’d laugh at your honesty. there’s nothing that’d make him upset right now.

so when you were finally married, you had to work but he spent the majority of the day squeezing his stuff into the house like you both planned, it still felt right.

you didn’t have to be beside him, helping him unbox for him to be happy. he found everything seemed to fit in place.

settling in didn’t feel as much of a task as you both thought it’d be. there was always a cloud of sadness when he’d have to leave, so finally that experience was tarnished after the knot was tied.

there’s no leaving anymore, because he always comes right back.

at this point, his nerves being around you were fizzled, but of course he still got butterflies when he’d see you.

any moment he was intimate with you still made him feel much younger with the way his heart would pound and his palms would grow sweaty. even if you were just leaning in to kiss him.

so the first night you two were living together as a married couple—i don’t think he’d be so nervous.

or at least, not nervous in a bad way.

“which side of the bed should i sleep on?”

“harvey, we’ve slept together before. this isn’t new.” you tease.

“well we’ve never slept together as a married couple who lives in the same house. this is the start to the rest of our lives, i want to make sure we’re making the right decision,” and after he realizes what he implied, he’s widening his eyes and shaking his head, “no! not like that! as in, what if i sleep on the right side, but i sleep on my right side so my back is always turned to you—“

“harvey, honey…i’m not going to be mad at you if i wake up and you’re not facing me.” you giggle.

he really knows how to overthink everything.

but once you’re finally tucked in bed together (you on the right, him on the left) i don’t think he’ll overthink at this point.

by now, you’re both so in love that he doesn’t second guess reaching over to hold you anymore. he doesn’t need to rethink all of that.

when you latch onto him, pressing your face into his chest and wrapping your arms around him—he’s bound to get butterflies. you may even hear his heart beat a little quicker. but he’s not shy to give you the same treatment.

if he could, he’d hold you all day. he never wants to let go.

[wosoimagines]

Tall Tales - Alyssa Naeher/Reader

part one | part two

prompt: part two to Our Own Litle Book Club where Alyssa helps open up a book store.

warnings: none.

words: 1562

i hope you guys like this cause i'm hoping to get back into writing and maybe even setting a schedule for it to help keep me on track since i'm working two jobs and can get pretty busy these days cause i've really missed writing.

Y/N POV

“So, I have a surprise.”

Alyssa furrowed her brow as I pushed the box across the table toward her. I kept a close eye on her reaction as she opened the box.

Alyssa blinked once. Then twice. And then a third time before she reached into the box.

“Are you asking me to move in?”

I chuckled a little as Alyssa held the key up in between us.

“Not yet,” I shook my head. “I bought the place next door with the money I made from my book. Which reminds me, I really do need to do something for Rose the next time she’s in town since she recommended it to all of your teammates and on her Instagram.”

“Why did you buy the place next door?”

I looked down at the table as I fiddled with the mug that had my latte in it. I had wanted Alyssa’s opinion, but she had been so busy preparing for the World Cup and the last thing I wanted was for her to feel like she had to help me with it.

“I want to open a bookstore. Is it a bad idea?”

Alyssa stayed quiet as she put the key back into the box that was sitting on the table. We had only been together for a couple of months, but her opinion on this meant a lot to me. I held my breath until Alyssa reached across the table to grab ahold of my hand.

“I think it’s a great idea. Do you have a name for it?”

“That’s a work in progress,” I said as I grinned at her. “I was hoping that you’d help me with that. And maybe help me fix it up? I’m not in a rush and Arthur said he’d keep me on the schedule until 11 so that I could work on it in the afternoon until it’s ready to open and then we’ll come up with a plan for my schedule here too.”

“How much work needs to be done?”

“I could show you around when you finish that coffee.”

Alyssa shook her head as she turned back to her coffee that was only half gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I grinned as I stepped back once we had moved the bookshelf into place. Alyssa wiped the sweat off her brow as she joined my side.

“Now we just have to put the books on the shelves.” Alyssa let out a small groan as I waved her off. “I can do it tomorrow with the others.”

“You sure you want the others to put the books up with you?”

I rolled my eyes at that before I tossed the water bottle over to her. Alyssa had met most of the people I had hired but she had insisted that the two of us do the work ourselves to make it our little project.

“You have practice tomorrow and I have the day off from the coffee shop. Besides, it would help if the others know where everything is at so that they can help people find what they’re looking for when we open next week,” I said. I had been training everyone who was hired how to use our system, but it had been easy since a couple of the people coming to work at the bookstore also work at the coffee shop with me. “Besides, you have your national team camp to worry about.”

“I can always tell them that I have personal stuff going on. I want to be here for opening day.”

“Alyssa, you know you can’t do that,” I swatted at her shoulder. We had arguments over the topic that past few days now that I had set the date for my grand opening, and it happened to be while Alyssa was going to be at camp. She’d ultimately be in town as their national team camp was taking place in Chicago, but Alyssa was worried that she wouldn’t be able to stop by for opening day. “I won’t let you put your own career on hold because of me.”

“I want to.”

“And I don’t want you to. What if they refuse to call you up later because you took time away from the team?”

“Let me worry about that.”

“Absolutely not, Alyssa. I’m your partner, it’s part of my job to worry about you. I could never forgive myself if they refused to call you up because you took time for me.”

“So, you can support me as my partner, but I’m not allowed to support you.”

I sighed as I pinched the bridge of my nose. Alyssa didn’t even have a schedule for her camp days yet so there wasn’t any telling if she would have to miss opening day or not.

“Look, the team is coming for the soft launch. It was supposed to be a surprise in case you’re going to be busy on opening day,” I explained. I had reached out to Becky to help me set up the surprise. “You guys will be the first customers that we have. I wanted to make sure that you could still be a part of the opening, but I won’t let you put your own life on hold for me. And we’ll have the first book club meeting when you get done with camp. Okay?”

Alyssa stayed silent as she nodded her head. I was a little upset that I had to ruin the surprise, but if it helped to quell Alyssa’s nerves about possibly missing the opening day then I guess it wasn’t too bad to ruin the surprise.

“We’ll be the first customers?”

“Pinky promise.”

I held my pinky up so she could lock her own around mine. After all, pinky promises were the most important promises ever.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I grinned as I rocked on my hills as the girls made their way toward me. I wrapped Alyssa up in a hug when she got close enough. We had been on the phone just this morning, but nothing compared to being able to see her in person.

“You ready to see how it turned out?” I softly asked her.

“You know I am.”

I pulled away from her before turning to unlock the door. I waited for the girls to pile into the store before I turned on the lights. Most of the girls gasped or squealed when they could finally see how the store turned out. I didn’t mind as they started to go about the store.

I did step up next to Alyssa though as I grabbed ahold of her hand. My eyes were drawn to the display that she was looking at. There were quite a few displays about the store. We had mystery book dates scattered throughout the store, along with a banned book display and even one for our employee favorites.

“In the beginning,” Alyssa read out loud. She looked down at me. “Are those the books we’ve recommended to each other?”

“I couldn’t have opened this place without you. I wanted to do something a little extra special for the two of us,” I admitted. I had even gone as far as to make sure that all the books were in order of how we had each recommended them to each other as just another way to tell our own story. “Do you like it?”

“I love it.”

“Good, because you guys are also working opening day as well.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah, you guys are going to come and work opening day. More press for the store and you get to come to opening day.”

Alyssa grinned before she pulled me closer to give me a kiss. I couldn’t help but melt in her arms. I was getting to live my own little story and I wouldn’t change it for the world.

“Hey, (Y/N)!” Sonny called out, causing Alyssa and I to pull away from each other. Neither of us being comfortable with showing too much PDA around Alyssa’s teammates. “How did you get ‘Tall Tales’ for the name?”

“You don’t have to tell her,” Alyssa said to me, but I was already shaking my head at her.

“Alyssa loves telling me all of the national team tales you guys get up to and she’s tall, so it kind of just worked out perfectly.”

“I knew you loved all the shenanigans that we get up to, Uncle!”

Alyssa groaned at that.

“Is ‘shenanigans’ your word of the day, Sonnett?” Alyssa asked. I immediately brought my hand up to cover my mouth to keep the laughter from spilling out. “I’m so proud of you for being able to use such a big word in a sentence.”

“Don’t be mean,” I said as I pushed Alyssa away from me.

“Let’s be realistic,” Alyssa said. She caught sight of the book in Sonny’s hands. “Are you sure you should let her read your book? She might have trouble with some of the words and subtext and all the hidden meanings in it.”

“Hey!”

“It’s okay, Sonny. You can ask me all the questions about it,” I said to the blonde defender before turning to Alyssa. “And you are getting no more kisses until you can be nice to Sonny.”

Alyssa groaned at that as I moved closer to Sonny to talk to her about some of the themes that she would find in my book.

[pixydustworld]

The marriage law was announced at 2pm on a Tuesday.

By 2:15 Hermione had already drafted a motion to dismiss the law entirely. It was a good motion, too. If she’d sent a copy to Ron, he would’ve replied with: wow! lots of words! good stuff!

At 2:17 her motion was denied.

“It’s best to just accept defeat.” Malfoy said from his side of the office, bookshelves neat, papers all stacked in order. “You won’t win this one.”

“I’m not in the habit of giving up.” Hermione snapped. Her side of the office was cluttered, less pristine. Her bookshelf had a nasty habit of overflowing all over the floor, stacks of books balancing precariously on every surface. “A fire hazard.” Malfoy had sneered at her once, “Breaking several codes.”

“Hm.” Malfoy said, “I hadn’t noticed.” He was smiling softly, like he’d just told the funniest joke in the world. Waiting, almost patiently for her to smile. Stupid man with his stupid grin, Hermione wanted to throw a book at his head.

“This is archaic.” Hermione hissed. “The Ministry has gone too far. They can't force us to marry anyone.”

Even as she spoke, a squirming feeling of doubt was beginning to take root in her chest — being friends with Harry came with many things. Companionship and love, but it also came with a healthy distrust of the government (like a free gift basket! but terrible one).

Malfoy ignored her complaints. "Marriage Acts aren't as mid-evil as you're making them out to be." He said, with that annoying voice he used when he knew he was right about something, "They serve a purpose."

"A purpose?" Hermione could practically feel the beginnings of an aneurysm. A fitting death, slumped over her desk, surrounded by unfinished documents and discovered by Draco Malfoy, "Are you actually defending this?"

She would have to find a new partner. A new office, one where he wasn't constantly surrounding her, swimming on the edge of her peripheral vision. Maybe Dean Thomas would let her set up a current workplace in his records closet, he was always bragging about how it was big enough for him to take naps in during work —

"No." Malfoy said, somehow even more amused now, "I don't support it."

"Oh." Hermione said, very eloquently, "That's good."

"But," Malfoy continued, still distinctly unruffled while Hermione was very ruffled, "Most people will be unfazed. It's a Pure-Blood tradition. My parents have always planned to arrange a marriage contract.” Malfoy shrugged, “It’s not absolutely unheard of.”

“Well," Hermione said, out of breath from all the pacing she was doing, "Your parents are terrible.”

“Of course.” Malfoy said, like it was obvious. “They would never allow me the opportunity to sully the Malfoy name. Producing the correct heir is the only thing I’ll ever be good at.”

Hermione frowned. “Hearing about your family isn’t good for our working relationship. It makes me feel bad for you.”

“We can’t have that.” Malfoy said.

“No,” she agreed with a sigh, “we can’t have that.”

“So, tell me Granger. What is your plan?” His grin became less self indulgent, more fake. “You’ll have to marry someone. It'll undoubtably be the event of the season — have a fiancé you’ve been hiding from me?”

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “Do you think I could hide anything from you?”

Malfoy knew when she changed the scent of her shampoo, when she switched up her coffee order — he even knew if she was sleeping less than usual. It was impossibly annoying to be around someone so observant, someone so intent on cataloguing her every move.

"If I had a secret fiancé, which I don't, I'm confident that you're competent enough to have sniffed him out by now."

Malfoy responding grin was slow and syrupy. "You think I'm competent?"

“Piss off, Malfoy.”

“Is he shorter than me? Is that it? Didn’t want to introduce us because you knew he’d feel bad?”

“You’re taller than everyone.” Hermione said, annoyed, again, “You would obviously be taller than my imaginary fiancé. You’re like an angelic giraffe.”

“You think I’m angelic?”

“No.”

"Two compliments on top of each other, are you feeling alright, Granger?"

"Shut up."

At 2:20, Hermione began to clean her side of the office, desperate for an excuse not to talk to Malfoy.

At 2:22, Harry slammed through her door, completely demolishing the (very little) progress Hermione had made in cleaning up her side of the office.

“I’ll marry you.” Harry said, slightly out of breath, like he’d sprinted all the way to her office, “Do you think we can kiss without making a face? We’ll have to practice.”

“I’m not marrying you.” Hermione said from the floor behind her desk, “You are engaged to Theo.” She was laying on her back with a book covering her face, feeling rightfully sorry for herself.

“Theo won’t mind.” Harry said in the voice he reserved for whenever he wanted people to listen to him (i am harry potter! and i did not spill mustard on the couch! you have to believe me, i saved the world!) “It will be quick. I can get us rings before the day is over.”

"No." Hermione said, still on the floor, "I've gone along with enough of your stupid ideas. This is too much."

Because, despite it all, Harry would do this. Without hesitation, blind loyalty and unwavering determination — Harry would marry her and be pleased with his choices. He was lovely, but at times, Harry could be a misguided idiot.

"This is where you draw the line?" Malfoy hummed, "Interesting to catch a glimpse into the inner workings of your mind."

Finally scrambling to her feet (after a few more seconds of wallowing) Hermione was horrified to find a familiar look on Harry's face — one that promised something stupid.

"I'll figure it out. " Harry said, with a shrug that reminded Hermione of their childhood (occidentally, the stress headache she was feeling also reminded her of their childhood). He pointed a stoic finger at her. "Don't make a face when I kiss you."

Then, he left.

“Theo wouldn’t mind,” Malfoy said in a helpful voice, “He’d probably marry you as well. Would it be Granger-Potter-Nott? Or Granger-Nott-Potter? Better figure that out soon. Potter seems eager to find those rings.”

Hermione threw a book at his head.

Malfoy caught it with ease, his stupid Quidditch hands.

“I have an idea,” Malfoy said after a moment.

Hermione ignored him. “There has to be a way out of this.” She was pacing again, sensible shoes kicked off to the corner (where she’d undoubtedly forget them) “I could write another motion? A longer one this time. With more quotes.”

“Marry me instead.”

Hermione stopped pacing. “Excuse me?”

“I’m your best option.”

“I have many options —

“Weasley already tricked someone into marrying him and Potter is engaged to my only friend.” He frowned, in a mocking sort of way. “Did I leave anyone out?”

“No.” Hermione said flatly. “You didn’t.”

“Alright then. Marry me.”

“Hah.” She said, “Hah. I take back everything I’ve ever said about you. Malfoy, you are funny.”

“I’m being serious.” He said, looking annoyed. Fantastic, they were both annoyed. Like they always were.

“We can get married before the law passes and then you can do what you do best.” Malfoy continued, like that was a totally normal thing to say.

“Which is?” Without her shoes, the height difference was unbearably noticeable. She had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. At some point he'd stopped being a willowy wraith of a person and began the unfortunate process of filling out.

He didn’t look away. “Destroy everyone’s expectations and free the downtrodden.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “What would you get out of this arrangement?”

Malfoy shrugged, too practiced to be nonchalant. “I’d be married to a war hero. It would do wonders for my reputation.”

“And you would be married to me.” Hermione said, beginning to feel like this was getting too real, “We both know that would never happen.”

“Never?”

“Never.” She agreed.

He wasn’t smiling that lazy smile from before, this one was different. Sharper. “I don’t think that’s true.”

“Besides,” Hermione continued on loudly, “you’re no gentleman. No need to pretend. I don’t need saving, I’ll figure this out myself.”

“You don’t need to.” Malfoy said, “I will help. I want to fuck over the Ministry for many reasons, but mainly because they declined your motion.”

He was on her side of the office now, leaning casually against her desk, inches away from where she stood. He was too pretty up close, like staring at the sun.

“It was very good.” Hermione breathed.

Malfoy nodded, almost too good at pretending to be sincere.

“I’m sure it was good. You touched it. Everything you touch is golden.”

“You truly want to help me?”

“I’ve only offered several times.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “All to fuck over the Ministry? No other reason?”

“Maybe I want you all to myself.”

Hermione's eye twitched.

"Don't tease me." She managed to hiss. "Not about this."

She saw when he realized, a flicker of excitement in his eyes — when he noticed her apparent misery at how completely and helplessly she was drawn to him.

"I'd never dream of it." Malfoy said warmly, "You could kill me with ease, only an idiot would be careless around you."

She thought of all the long nights they spent together, crammed in their tiny little office. How she looked forward to her day, if only to see his stupidly pointy face. How she tried to date, but couldn’t. Because it wasn’t right — her dates were too kind, too short.

Not him.

How, through everything, he was the first person she thought of in the morning, the person she thought of in the darkness of the night, when no one could see her wandering hands — the person she looked at for a challenge, for relief and support.

Despite her best attempts, Hermione Granger had fallen in love with Draco Malfoy and now, here he was, seeming to share in her suffering.

“We’d have to consummate the marriage.” She said, giving him one last out. “You’d have to see me naked.”

“I’m sure I’ll survive.”

“I’m very bossy,” she said, “and I work all the time.”

“Good thing we share an office.”

“I’m not easy to love.”

Malfoy scoffed. “It’s been easy enough for me.”

He was close enough to touch, so uncharacteristically open. Looking down at her with fondness she didn’t know he possessed.

“I’m selfish.” Malfoy warned, “Do not forget that. I will help you destroy this law and anything else you want. Burn it all down if you want to. But I won’t be letting you go. Not now, after I've gotten you."

“I suppose that’s fine.” Hermione said softly, watching as his hand moved to touch her face, warm against her skin. "It'll be bearable to be around you, I suppose."

As he held her face in his hands, Hermione watched as his grin transform into something different, something new — a smile she'd only seen glimpses of, one only for her. "I'll work very hard to make our marriage a tolerable one." He said.

"Good," Hermione breathed, stretching up to kiss him, to finally press her lips against his, "I can't wait."

Hermione was married at 3pm on a Tuesday.

It was a small ceremony.

Harry, although he'd never publicly admit it, was relieved.

Despite his best attempts, he would've made a face when Hermione had kissed him.

[hypersonic04]

Teacher!ross and reader moving in together and organizing Ross’ books to her bookshelf but realizing they’ll need more room for it all, add fluffy stuff, talking about their book collection etc

This is so sweet. You’re both big readers, maybe you a bit more so than him with the nature of your subject, so when you move in together, the book situation is definitely interesting.

One of the things that attracted both of you to the new house was the HUGE bookcase in the office - it’s one of those where it’s fitted into the wall, floor to ceiling shelves, and there’s no way Ross could walk away from it when he saw the way your eyes lit up. So now, about 4 months later, he’s looking at you stood with your arms folded, middle of the office, his t-shirt on, the cogs turning in your brain as you try to think of a way to get all 7 boxes of books onto the bookshelf. He comes up to you presses a kiss to the side of your head, ‘what’s going on in that head of yours, hm?’, arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side.

You decide to just make a start - he hands you a book at a time, starting with his history books, and you can’t help but read the blurb of each one, asking him questions, where he bought it, what it’s about, etc. He loves it, explaining everything to you and watching as you take it all in. This does, however, mean that the job takes twice the amount of time it should on paper lol.

The two of you end up sat on the floor on the office, you in between his legs and your back resting against his chest, having conversations about the books you’re pulling out of the boxes. It’s dark outside and neither of you could be bothered to get up and turn the light on, so it’s just the landing light casting through the doorway. His voice is close to your ear, every so often pressing a kiss to the space between your hair and ear when he particularly likes one of your observations. I think you get to some of the last boxes (eventually, it’s definitely past midnight), and you’re both kind of just like where are we going to put the rest of them lol. Because he’s so unbelievably whipped, he decides that he’s going to build you a bookshelf in the living room ‘because you need more room to display all of the books I’m going to buy you’. He sticks to his word, and a few weeks later he buys you a special edition of Wuthering Heights, your favourite, writing in the front page of it: To my beautiful y/n. My Catherine to my Heathcliff. Whatever our souls are made of, yours and mine are most definitely the same. You cry a little bit I think, because he is so very right <3.

[have-some-heals]

Ardent-2 & Nova on the future

⚠️ Spoilers ⚠️

A ring of light circled the small ghost as it flexed in and out adjusting to the new shell the titan had found for them.

“This feels a bit plain” Nova said after a moment. The ghost’s titan was laid out on the ground surrounded by old magazines that had been collected. A large sheet of paper laid in front of them. Gently the titan flipped through pages and every now and again ripped one out.

“The idea is to blend in while standing out… it’s called peacocking” the titan pointed at an article in the magazine. “You said you want Veles to notice you so maybe this new shell will do the trick” ripping another page out of the old magazine Ardent-2 added it to a pile of other photos.

“And what is it you are doing again” the ghost asked after expanding in anger but biting back the argument and instead changing the subject to the odd behavior of the titan.

“After the mask incident last week I went to Eris to talk and she said something about this being one of the methods her therapist recommended for trauma… it’s called a seeing sheet.” The titan sat up a bit and looked at the ghost. “ I’m supposed to take pictures from these old printings and cut them out. Then I stick them in this bigger paper and I hang it somewhere to remind me what I’m aiming for…”

“Isn’t that why you guardians have that Bray site where you press the little add button and things get added to a digital folder?” The ghost moved over to the computer and pulled the screen up navigating to the built in app. The message icon in the corner flashed as the ghost looked through what the titan had already added. “Are you planning a togetherness ceremony?” The ghost asked as the images were mostly stills of other events. Every few adds there would be some image of a dress or suit, or a food arrangement, a table setting, and even some rings”

“No, that’s just in case one day they ever do get to talking” the titan said standing up after a few moments. He moved to the screen and skimmed the messages deleting a few from a particular warlock.

One message caught his eye though and he quickly opened it.

Ardent-2,

Come see me when you can,

Crow

The message was short but had been sent recently. Ardent-2 waived his hand sending the screen away and set course for the helm. “Wonder what he could want with us”

———

The Helm looked the same as ever as Ardent-2 made his way to where he had been told crow was. The newer guardian rarely called on him so he figured it must be important.

Crow was standing in the hall where he normally stood, only Ardent was noticing some odd details. More books, more furniture… more stuff. ‘I wonder if they moved him into the hall’ the titan thought as he looked around.

“Guardian, thank you for joining me” Crow spoke softly and steadily as ever. “I hope I didn’t panic you with my message but glint insisted we see you in person to get a report on the headless ones.” Crow gestured to a small bench and indicted the titan to sit.

“Oh I’m not much of a researcher” The titan sat on the bench cautiously- Not putting all his weight on it. “And to be honest I’ve been out of sorts recently…” he looked over the other guardian a pang of guilt washing over him. Who was he to miss Amanda and pity himself when Amanda and Crow had- his thoughts were cut off.

“I understand. I know what it feels like to learn something shocking about yourself.” Crow offered the titan a smile and sat next to him. “When I found out I had caused, no had planned Caydes death…” Crow took a breath and then rested a hand in the titans back. “If you find you can’t keep looking back then I suggest you find something to look forward to.” He stood slowly and gave a nod to the titan before moving to a bookshelf to straighten a few of the books. “If you learn anything Glint would love to know… and here this was in Amanda’s things” Crow handed a photo of the titan and pilot working on his ship. The expo was covered in oil and Amanda was clearly laughing at him.

Ardent-2 took a moment to look over the photo before pocketing it. He then nodded at Crow as he stood. “I know it’s not my place but Amanda would give me a lashing if I didn’t say anything to ya while I was here… she’d be okay with you falling again. In fact, the Amanda I knew would be pretty upset with us both…” The titan didn’t hang about to talk more about the sensitive matter.

Crow waited till he was sure he was alone before opening the book where the photo had been inside there were a few other photos. The one in top now that of Amanda and a hunter who had taken over Caydes ship. The pair were working on the inside and it seemed like both were unaware of the photo being taken. He flipped the card over and traced the names with a finger.

Amanda & Ace, finally fixing Caydes comms

Crow closed the book and slid it back into its place. He hesitated a moment before pulling up his messages and entering the hunters information. He typed on word.

Ramen?

His finger hovered over the send button, his hand trembling slightly as he looked over the one word message. The words the titan had spoke rang true and Crow knew that like his dark past he had to move forward with this loss as well.

With a breath he pulled his hand back having sent the message before he could chicken out. Behind him the sound of sliding doors echoed down the hall. Soon the sound of Eris talking reached his ear.

“Don’t make me call yours”

[syoish]

TEN SECONDS - EREN/READER

I haven't posted about it on here because I'm SHY ABOUT THIS SHIT but I started posting the Attack on Titan Eren/Reader fic that I've been working on for the last few months.

It's kinda a coming of age fic about asexuality, overcoming past trauma, and going through the motions of getting better. Writing it was a really personal experience and I'm extremely proud of it.

Chapter 6/16 was posted this morning.

It's prewritten and I post a new chapter every day

PREVIEW BELOW THE CUT:

It starts at the end.

With the soft thud of your last moving box meeting the worn carpet floor in your new bedroom.

You can hear your new roommate down the hall in the kitchen, shuffling things around to make space for you in one of the cupboards.

Not that you have much, anyway. It’d been too much of a scramble when you were packing so all you’d really managed to shove into your beat-up minivan were the essentials. You try not to think about the things you forgot, but it’s impossible not to. Especially as your eyes move around the pathetic collection of mismatched boxes surrounding you.

The TV.

Your bookshelf.

The printer.

It’s all stupid things. Material things that you shouldn’t be upset you had to leave behind, but you can’t help the empty feeling that you get when you think about them. You tried to remember what your mom had told you on the phone two nights ago. Your mom. Because she was the only one you could turn to even though you’re supposed to be an adult that can handle yourself just fine.

'Don’t worry about the physical things.' Her muffled voice had come through your phone as you pressed it tightly against your ear, holding your hand to your mouth to hold back a choked sob. 'We can figure all of that out after. Just think about if you actually want to be there or not.'

You hadn’t. 

Not for a long time.

But leaving someone who’d been tied to your life for almost seven years wasn’t easy.

Even though it happened less than 24 hours ago, everything was still such a blur. You feel yourself forgetting bits and pieces of it and you’re scared. Scared for what forgetting means. Scared that if you forget too much… you’ll go back.

You force yourself to remember everything you can. Force yourself not to forget.

'You’re not that brave, stop pretending you are! This is an act that you’ll snap out of!'

'I can’t live without you!! You can’t leave me alone like this!'

'I’m sorry, I’ll stop. I’m sorry, I’ll stop just please don’t leave you can’t leave!!'

'NO ONE IS GOING IN OR OUT OF THIS DOOR!'

You swallow a lump in your throat as your hand reflexively moves to your bruised wrist. The clear purple imprints against it. Your fingers brush softly across the bruises. You push down against them, out of a sadistic desire to feel something. The dull pain slowly makes its way up your arm as your ears ring. You press harder. Harder.

Harder.

And then you drop your hands and tug your sleeve down to cover the marks.

Your roommate moves into the doorway. “The cupboard next to the fridge is empty.” She tells you.

“Thanks.” You reply.

“No problem.”

Then there’s silence.

Even though you go to the same university, you hadn’t met Mikasa Ackerman until a few hours ago when you were downstairs with your shitty old van packed with all your belongings.

You’d found her roommate wanted ad the night before and thankfully, even though you were desperate for anything, what she was looking for seemed to fit:

Student. Female. Quiet. Clean. No parties.

Basically, you in a nutshell. Thank god.

Perhaps sensing the awkwardness of the silence, Mikasa pushed away from the door frame. “I’ll be in my room if you need anything. You can move stuff around in the living room.”

You nodded and she left. 

Turning back to the room, you take a deep breath before opening your first box. 

Your hands tremble as they meet the cardboard. You feel your face become warm as your vision blurs.

You close your eyes and take a breath.

There are so many emotions running through you and you can’t put a name to a single one. Normally, there’s a voice saying something, yelling something, demanding something; but even that voice is silenced.

You want to scream. You want to cry. You want to dig your nails into your head so you can rip the feelings right out.

You feel so empty. You feel so full. You feel desperate and lost and confused and so fucking broken.

You’ve never felt more broken.

Useless useless pathetic useless selfish useless idiot selfish pathetic bitch.

Ah. The voice is there.

“Ten seconds.” You softly mumble to yourself. It feels a little silly to be saying it out loud, but it cuts the voice off before she can say more. “All you have to do is survive for ten seconds.”

1…

2…

3…

4…

5…

6..

7…

8…

9…

10.

Your eyes remain firmly closed, and the voice remains silent. You made it ten seconds. If you can make it ten seconds, you can make it ten seconds again, right?

So, you start to count:

1…

           2…

                      3…

       4…

                                       5…

[domi-scu]

Day off, hallelujah!

The plan was to start with some shopping at Vernissage and then look at the main touristy parts of Yerevan. To begin with, I forgot my hat in the room so I was very aware I’m risking a heatstroke but thankfully, that was avoided as the city centre has loads of trees that cool things down quite significantly. The Vernissage market was larger than expected and I think I looked through everything multiple times. This meant that my tourist day turned into a shopping day with some great finds.

The handmade cashmere scarf was the biggest win. It looked beautiful and I knew I wanted it right away but knowing how expensive it probably was, I hesitated. I also knew that I’ll be given a higher price as a tourist so I googled how much cashmere costs and wasn’t expecting anything below £50 AT BEST. I figured I would ask and just walk away said but when the woman said £14????? I have a new scarf. Another great find was a tiny bookshelf carved out of wood with miniature song books by an Armenian songwriter (I think. The language barrier is real.)

Crossing the streets was a bit of an experience. It took me a while to figure out because there seems to be no rhyme or reason to it so I just had to wait for a local to show up and follow their lead for a while. It’s one way to do it!

I ended up spending £50 at the market after 2.5h so I figured that was enough for one day and moved on to a café and lunch. Touristy stuff will have to come later. For how little I’ve seen, I walked a surprising amount so by the time I finished my food, I was glad to go back to the hotel to drop things off and take another taxi back to the centre to a music marketing workshop.

The information was totally outside of what I do but I did learn a thing or two that I might try to apply. Don’t ask me what, I need to think on it for a while. During the networking session after, I got to know a local artist whose goal it is to collect and record lullabies from around the world. How innovative and interesting. She kindly invited me to join her and half the Portuguese band called Malotira at a ‘hidden away café with the best coffee around’.

It was raining as we left so we got pretty soaked but I got to experience the local metro! And get told off for taking photos in it too- who knew it’s not allowed? I'm also really curious to know why. Maybe tourists tend to fall of the escalators when they take selfies.

My new friend wasn’t lying about this place. We got to choose from about 20 kinds of Colombian coffees. I opted to have mine with ice cream and we also got some homemade chocolate with it too. Both the coffee and chocolate were indeed one of the best I’ve ever had.

We headed back just in time to catch the concert of the best tar player in Armenia with a visiting Albanian polyphonic group- that was very new to me and, once again, impressive. The entire group along with the EU ambassador and one of the UK guys went to a nearby beer garden afterwards so I joined them for drinks along with the other half of Malotira band. One of them being from Chile, the other one from UK (as it turns out, none of the guys from the Portuguese band are actually Portuguese).

As we were chatting, one of them mentioned that he once played a gig in Slovakia. He couldn’t remember where but said he really loved the venue and all he can remember is that it was a train station that was turned into a music venue. I knew immediately where that was- my favourite venue in my hometown. What a coincidence!

As we were slowly getting kicked out because they were closing, we asked for our individual bills- only to find out that the EU ambassador already paid everything (and forgot his tie there in the process). How lovely of him. I then got talked into going next door because apparently this is the place to get the best cognac. And who am I to argue with that, especially when I have multiple meetings and a panel tomorrow? I joined in and was given a 10 year old cognac. I’m no expert but it was surprisingly enjoyable. We finally headed back to the hotel and I was asleep around 2am.

[jaejoongs-nipple-piercing]

When you’re so stressed out and broken down emotionally that you cry not being able to move a bookshelf a few inches.

[gurugirl]

The Scientist & the Stripper*

Happy Harry Fic Friday y'all!

Summary: Harry's your new neighbor and he's just moved in so you invite him over to get to know him better - but what you find out about him is totally unexpected

A/N: 15.2k words in total - 6k+ words of SMUT

Pairing: nerd/virgin!harry x stripper!reader

Warnings: SMUT, mentions of light alcohol use and smoking weed

The couple who lived next to you moved out last week and things were finally quiet again. They had two young children and as cute as they were, you kind of hated kids and how obnoxious they were, and how early they insisted on waking up. Having children for neighbors was exhausting, especially because you worked nights at Star Room Gentleman’s Club.

So, today when you woke up at noon you felt well rested and your mood was good. Really good. You stretched and yawned and got out of your bed, walking to your dresser to find your pack of cigarettes. You walked out to your balcony and lit up the stick and inhaled. Your view of the I-90 interstate on the south side of Chicago was not great, but having a balcony was better than not having one, even if the view was of traffic and concrete.

When you stamped out your cigarette in the ash tray you went back into your apartment and poured a glass of cold brew and turned your radio on. You stretched your sore limbs, grabbing at your ankles and nuzzling your face as close to your legs as possible before rising upward with your arms out and stretched backwards until just before you could lose your balance. It was a typical morning routine; a good cigarette, black cold brew coffee (that you made yourself because that shit is expensive to buy at the grocery store) and deep limb stretches.

You looked at your cellphone to find way too many notifications and put it back down not wanting to deal with anyone so early (well, early for you). It was nice to work odd hours because all your friends with normal jobs never cared when you didn’t get back to them right away. You had to be a social butterfly and confident-flirty (i.e., dance naked) at work so when you weren’t at the Star Room you didn’t feel much like socializing. Your friend Micah would be coming over later with wine along with a few friends who were bringing weed and pizza. You socialized, just not all day.

After a quick shower you went to buy a few groceries and get a bottle of vodka in anticipation of your friends coming over. You weren’t gone from your apartment too long but by the time you returned and stepped off the elevator to your floor there were boxes and furniture blocking you from getting to your apartment. It appeared you were getting a new neighbor.

You rolled your eyes and spoke loudly toward the door that was propped open with a table, “Hi there! Excuse me!” You waited for a moment and tried getting a look into the apartment but there didn’t seem to be any movement so you decided to pop your head into the door and take a look.

There were boxes and furniture everywhere. A large bookshelf was pushed against the wall in the living room and a couch faced the window.

“Hello! Anyone here?” You shouted into the apartment.

Nothing.

Finally you just decided to move the things out of your way so you could get to your door. You lifted the box at the top and set it down in front of your neighbor’s door, then you pulled the larger box at the bottom back a few feet so you could walk around it and make it to the other side.

You hopped over the metal stool and maneuvered next to the box and just as you were about to move past it you heard a man’s voice, “Hey! Sorry! The movers I hired just dumped my stuff in the hallway and left after I paid them. I’ll get everything moved out of your way as soon as possible! I’m so sorry!”

You watched the man as he explained everything and you found it funny how worked up he was, though you knew it was stressful moving anyway. But more than noticing how worked up he was you noticed that he was hot. Really hot. He was tall and he had short brown hair that was thick and looked soft, he had gorgeous green eyes, and a deep voice that sounded British. He was in a t-shirt that fit his frame well, showing off a toned and broad chest, and tattoos were scattered over his arms. And to top it all off he had glasses on. He looked smart and sexy. Hot.

“Oh! It’s okay!” You laughed and turned so you could lean over his stool to shake his hand, “I’m Y/N. I live next door.” You tipped your chin toward your apartment.

“Harry. I live… here.” He gestured to his door and began to chuckle and that’s when you saw his dimples. Oh, you were going to be fucking your neighbor. Harry was too cute not to test out.

“Where are you from? You know what? Never mind, you’re busy. I’ll leave you to it. I don’t want to be a bother.”

You smiled and began to turn when Harry spoke again, “You’re not a bother! I mean, I am busy and I want to get all this shit into my apartment so… but like,” he scratched at the back of his neck keeping his eyes on you, “maybe I’ll see you around soon.” He shrugged and grinned sweetly.

“Definitely! And, ya know… I’m having a few friends over later on, around 8 or 9 tonight. Some drinks, a little weed, pizza… if you’re done with what you need to get done tonight you should come over.”

Harry’s eyes widened ever so slightly at your casual mention of weed and he was curious about what kind of person you were. Not that he thought people who smoked weed were bad, but he had some assumptions and opinions on weed use. He had never partaken; he was a scientist after all and needed to focus on his work. Weed would only slow his mind down and could hinder his research and effort.

But as strict as Harry was with his lifestyle choices, he was still a man and you were a very pretty woman inviting him over. He wasn’t great in social situations but you were going to be his neighbor and at the very least if he accepted your invitation he would have a good idea of what kind of neighbor you’d be. It’s a win-win situation for him, long term.

And there could be the smallest chance that you are into him and maybe you wouldn’t mind that he was completely inexperienced in bed. Well, inexperienced was putting it mildly. It wasn’t that Harry wanted to be a virgin, it’s just that he’d been very focused on his research for the last few years and he never really put much effort in to dating. Then when he started going on dates and meeting new people he just never felt much of anything for any of them. There was one girl he liked a lot but when she found out that he’d never eaten a girl out before she ended things right away (they were making out and she gave him his first blow job but when it was his turn to reciprocate, he explained his lack of experience and asked her to guide him but instead she kicked him out). So that put him off dating. He decided to just let nature take its course. But nature had been slow and Harry was starting to feel like he was missing out.

“Sure! Don’t see why I couldn’t make it over for a bit. Should I bring anything?”

Harry was so polite and eager. You loved him already, the cutie. “Nah, just bring your handsome face and that should be plenty.”

You winked at him and waved as you finally made your way past the large box and back to your apartment.

You put the vodka in the freezer and the groceries away. And then you proceeded to shave yourself smooth, put your favorite cream all over your body, check your stock of condoms, put on your sexiest little thong and thin white dress that was a little short, a little see through, and body skimming, but not too tight. You wanted to show off a little in front of Harry and hopefully have him in your bed by the end of the night. He seemed very sweet and excited.

At the same time you were prepping yourself for the possibility of having Harry balls deep inside of you later on, Harry was busting his ass moving his stuff into his apartment and internally freaking out that you called him handsome and then winked at him.

He realized that sometimes people could tend to be flirty naturally and that it might have meant nothing, or maybe it was more of a kind gesture to create familiarity, and comfortability. But there was also the chance that you were telling him you found him handsome, as an invitation of sorts. What was he to do with this information? Just play it cool? What if it meant something though? What if him playing it cool backfires and you think he doesn’t like you and he missed the chance to see where it could lead because he was too in his head and playing it cool.

Yes. Harry is an over thinker. This is why he generally avoids social situations so he doesn’t have to deal with thoughts like this and navigate other personalities. But he hates that he avoids these situations because it’s a big part of why he’s never gotten laid. And he really wanted to get laid.

At 8 pm sharp, there are three distinct knocks at your door. You find Harry at standing in the hallway, looking as fuckable as he did earlier. “Come in…” you gesture into your apartment and he steps in. He smells very clean like he’s just gotten out of the shower.

You lead him to the living room that’s open to your kitchen.

“Sit wherever you’d like. Can I get you a drink? I’ve got some beer, vodka. A little rum… mmm… and juice and sparkling water.”

You look over your shoulder as you plate the chips and put the dip in the center waiting to see what Harry would like.

“Uh, here… let me get it! I can just, grab it myself since you’re busy…” Harry quickly crosses the room to the kitchen and stands near you.

“I think maybe a beer is fine. In your fridge I’m guessing?” He reaches toward your refrigerator.

You nod as you lift the chip tray, “Yeah, just in the door. There are two kinds so whichever you like. And glasses are in the cupboard to the left of the fridge if you want one.”

Harry reached into the door and grabbed a Modelo, lifting it toward you, “S’fine like this. Thank you. Uh, do you want me to do anything?”

He followed you to the small table as you set down the chips and dip. You laughed, “No! Just relax big guy. You’re probably tired. There’s not much for me to do anyway. I’ll join you in a couple minutes.” You wink at him and you swear you see him blush.

And he was blushing. He kind of liked when you called him big guy. Made him feel manly. He sat down on your couch and looked around. Your place seemed tidy. You had plants and art, a stereo cabinet with speakers, a receiver, a turntable and a good amount of records at the bottom of the cabinet.

Harry popped the tab on his can of beer and took a sip. You had a balcony with tall sliding glass doors that overlooked the interstate like Harry’s. There were twinkle lights draped over your balcony railing and a small sitting area with a table. Harry got up to check out the balcony, he didn’t have much time to see the view from his own. He opened the door and walked onto the metal flooring. There were cars heading North and South, lights coming from the North in the Loop where office buildings were still lit, concrete bridges and overpasses, and other condo buildings.

Harry took a seat in one of the chairs and noticed you had an ash tray full of cigarette butts. He sat his can down and just then the glass door slid open and you appeared, sitting next to him with your vodka soda.

“The summers in Chicago are so nice. I love sitting out here when it’s nice enough. Not the best view but it’s still a view.”

Harry looked at your face and then lowered his gaze quickly to your neck and then over your dress. He gulped and moved his eyes back to yours. He hadn’t noticed how sheer your dress was and that you appeared to not be wearing a bra when he first arrived.

You watched as he quickly glanced down at your attire. He seemed nervous. You figured another beer and he’d settle a bit. You had just met after all.

“Yeah, it’s, uh, it’s nice, though. I kinda like it.” Harry looked out over the railing and licked his lips before taking another sip of his beer. You sipped your drink at the same time.

“I imagine you’ve got the same view. Probably same layout too. I’ve never been in your apartment. The people who lived there before never invited me over.” You pulled a cigarette out to smoke but before lighting it you stopped “S’it okay if I smoke?”

Harry looked at the cigarette you had poised in between your fingers and shook his head, “Yeah. Of course. Go ahead. It’s your balcony. Your apartment.”

You lit the stick and pulled at the filter, inhaling the hot smoke into your lungs before blowing it from your lips away from Harry.

“That’s a bad habit you know. I’m sure you’re aware of how unhealthy that is for you.” Harry noted, watching you smoke the cigarette.

You frowned and cocked your head, “Yes. I am aware, thank you. But I like it.” You inhaled another puff before turning your head to blow the smoke out.

Harry shrugged realizing it wasn’t his place to tell you that but he kind of wished you’d listen to him. He knew the dangers of smoking and how addictive it was but you were an adult and most people didn’t appreciate lectures about how smoking was bad, not to mention a complete waste of money.

You sighed and watched as Harry continued looking over the balcony into the distance. You decided to put the cigarette out. He was right, and also, you sort of wanted to get on his good side. You could tell he wasn’t much for conversation so you needed to carry this if you were going to get anywhere with him. You decided to turn up the charm a little bit.

“You’re right. I shouldn’t smoke. Gross habit. It’s probably why I’m single still.” You bate him.

Harry looks at you and his brows raise for a split second before he furrows them.

“Mmm… maybe. Seems like a bad reason for someone not to want to date you, just cause you smoke.”

You laugh, “Yeah, I guess so. What about you, Harry? Got any bad habits or secrets that keep you single?” You we’re hoping he’d let you know if he was available or not.

Harry coughed and looked down at his lap. Bad habits? Yes, plenty. Like not being able to turn his brain off to get a proper night’s rest most of the time. Or like putting work and research above everything else, including eating and socializing. So much so that he was still a virgin.

“I guess you could say that. Who hasn’t got any bad habits.” He laughs and displays his cute dimples again. He’s not taking the hints you’re dropping. You need to take it further. Harry seems oblivious.

You stand up from your chair and lean over the railing looking down and then back at Harry. He’s looking directly at his feet, not daring to be caught looking at your body under your thin, sheer dress. This frustrates you a bit. You hoped you could get his attention on you but it didn’t seem to work. You turned so you were facing Harry, leaning your bottom against the railing.

“So, where are you from? Don’t sound like you’re a Chicago native.” You chew at your bottom lip as you watch his face soften when he begins to speak.

“From Manchester, U.K. Moved to Los Angeles last year and then had an opportunity to do my research at Northwestern University as a fellow under one of the best biochemistry science professors in the country. So, here I am.” He grinned and then looked down at his shoes again.

“Wow. Impressive. So, you’re into science… biochemistry? Are you wanting to be a professor?” You were genuinely curious.

“I’m about to get my doctorate when my research gets published. I’m a scientist, just lack the final degree and the technical title. I’ve worked in labs and universities for my research for years now, and I get paid for it.”

Fuck. A scientist. You’d ask him more about that later. You had no idea about what biochemistry was. Now, though, you were ten times more intrigued by him and wanted him in your bed even more.

“I like your shirt, Harry. And I agree.” You chuckled. He looks down at his shirt and puffs out a breathy laugh, plucking the material out as he reads aloud the words printed along the fabric, “Women are smarter.”

He looks at you finally and smiles, nodding, “Technically it’s a true statement. For example, studies show that most men overestimate their IQ, while most women underestimate theirs. Therefore, in that context, men are not as smart as they think they are and women are smarter.” He snorts and laughs, “Now, the real question is are women smarter than men? That’s impossible to quantify but I think all signs point to yes.”

You watch him give his short speech and you realize he’s kind of funny without trying to be. He’s cute if not a bit awkward.

“Good answer, Harry.” You keep your eyes on him and move to sit back down next to him. He watches you as you sit.

He’s odd, you think to yourself. But you like him so you tell him, “I like you. Kind of quirky but cute. Do you have a girlfriend, Harry?”

He blinks a few times and appears to be confused before answering, with a shake of his head, “No. Never had much luck in that department.”

“Why do you think that is? You seem like a catch as far as I can tell.” You were just going to lay it on now. Tell him you found him attractive and make a move if he seemed into it. You took another sip, keeping your eyes on his.

“Uh… well, it’s kind of a bit of a story but, essentially I’m just not great in social settings. I devote most of my time to work.” He sips his beer and keeps his eyes on you.

You reach out and put your hand on his forearm, “Well, you don’t seem that devoted to work. You’re here at my place aren’t you? I’m glad you’re here, Harry.” You squeeze at him and then let go. Hoping he somehow gives you something.

Harry was feeling the lingering warmth of your touch on his arm and it had his heart throbbing in his ribcage, “Yeah, that’s true. Figured it would be important to get to know my neighbor.”

Harry wasn’t dumb or oblivious. He just didn’t know how to answer your questions without saying something dumb. Truly, he would have preferred to have been more charming, and responded to your subtle flirts and comments with his own witty responses but he lacked that skill.

“Mmm… yeah. It is important to get to know your neighbor. I’d like to get to know you better too. I think it’ll be nice having you as my neighbor.”

Harry nodded and smiled as he looked down at his lap. He was getting nervous. He tried to calm himself, but it was hard when he wasn’t used to small talk with a pretty woman. He wanted to impress you but didn’t want to seem like he was bragging.

“You’re a little shy.” You reach your hand out and ruffle his hair a bit getting his attention back on you, his green eyes finally meeting yours again. “But that’s okay. I like you. I think it’s cute.” You dropped your hand and picked your cup up to take a sip.

Harry was simply reeling at your touches, “Uh… thanks?” He breathed out a laugh and felt himself getting turned on, his face heated. Having you put your fingers his hair and dropping these telling hints was all it took. He was easy to turn on.

“You’re welcome.” You laughed. He was painfully awkward but you were determined.

“Hey, am I coming on too strong? Or are you just not aware that I’m trying to hit on you?” It was time to cut the shit. You wanted to get to it and have him aware of your intentions.

Harry just stared at you for a moment, appearing in shock before clearing his throat and finally speaking with his heart pounding, “No! I like it. Umm… I’m sorry about my behavior. I’m not great with small talk and I don’t know how to navigate this kind of thing very well.” He gestured between you and himself.

You mimicked his gesture and smiled, “This kind of thing? Like someone hitting on you?”

He nodded and gave you a brief grin, “Yeah. Clueless.”

You set your cup down and titled your head, “That’s okay. I have enough clues to last a lifetime. I think you’re really attractive and interesting, Harry. I’d be up for having you stay after my friends leave tonight if you want. No pressure.”

You needed to be very direct with him, it seemed. And you could certainly be direct.

Harry coughed a rubbed his palms over his thighs and then pinned his eyes back to yours. He took a deep breath to get up the nerve to say what he’d say next, “Yeah. Okay.” He knew it was pathetic, how nervous he was, how he didn’t know what he was doing.

You smirked at him and laughed lightly, putting your hand over his, “Hey, look at me.” You leaned forward to meet his gaze and he brought his eyes back to yours.

“I’m not going to bite. I just want to get to know you and you’re cute and kind. If you’re uncomfortable it’s okay. We won’t do anything if you don’t want.”

Harry did want to do things, though. But he needed someone to guide him. Someone who wouldn’t laugh about him being a virgin. He’d only kissed three women in his life (romantically), had only ever been given one blow job, and had never even touched a pussy. Sure, he’d watched plenty of porn but that absolutely doesn’t count toward experience.

“I’d like to do whatever you want. I just…” he paused and cleared his throat, preparing himself to give his spiel about how he was inexperienced. He’d practiced it, especially for moments like this, not that he had many opportunities, but now he has the chance, “I’m not very experienced, though. I need to be shown what to do. So, if you don’t mind that I’m…” another deep breath and a quick mental push to spit it out, “… a virgin, then I will stay.”

You just stared at the attractive man with the sharp jawline and couldn’t believe what you’d just heard. A virgin? A real-life virgin? You blinked a few times, not knowing exactly how to respond right away.

“Unless your invitation had nothing to do with sex, then never mind! I’m sorry, maybe you didn’t mean that. I didn’t mean to be presumptuous…”

You leaned across the table and grasped the back of his neck and pulled him in, pressing your lips to his. Just a sweet and soft kiss, a few little pecks at the corner of his mouth, and then you released him.

“That’s exactly what I meant. Sex. I don’t want to do anything you don’t want but I’ll be more than happy to guide you. Only if you want.”

Harry was still reeling from your lips on his. It’s been a while since he was kissed and he suddenly wanted more but he needed to contain himself.

“Okay. Yeah? Really? You don’t mind? I always feel like a burden.” He touched his lips as he spoke, which you found adorable.

A man as attractive as Harry being a virgin and asking to be guided through the process seemed like a dream. You’d sort of always wanted to corrupt an innocent man, not that you’d really be corrupting him, he wanted it. You just didn’t know if he wanted to lose his virginity or not.

“I’ll show you whatever you want to know.” You placed your hand over his thigh and squeezed and watched as he looked down to where your hand was. He looked up at you and his eyes searched your face.

“Okay.” He breathed out deeply. His breath had picked up, he was breathing a little harder and you smoothed your hand up toward his crotch but not touching him there. You saw that he was either sporting a bit of a natural bulge or he was already plumping in his pants. Poor guy. He was probably desperate to get laid. A virgin, and he looked like this?

“Okay.” You responded with a soft smile.

When everyone arrived it was a bit of a full house. Your apartment was small and Micah brought five people over. She was only meant to bring three. It wasn’t a problem really but you were concerned about Harry’s social battery. Two of the people Micah brought you’d never met before and one of the two, Dale, was obnoxious and kept hitting on you.

You were okay most of the time, and able to dodge the guy. You introduced everyone to Harry, and Micah’s cousin Petra was eyeing Harry hard. You, Petra, and Micah all worked at the Star Room together. There was a part of you that wished you could just make everyone go home so you could have your way with the dark-haired man with tattoos up his arms.

You and Micah went to the balcony to smoke a joint and much to your chagrin, Dale followed.

The three of you passed the joint around and chatted, slowly feeling the soft buzz of the THC fog your brain and dry your mouth. You zoned out what was being said between Micah and Dale and turned to look through the sliding glass doors and saw Harry sitting at the end of your couch with Petra sitting in his lap. Harry was bright red and you couldn’t help but chuckle as you walked past Dale to go back inside and save Harry.

You stood in front of the pair and pointed at Harry, interrupting whatever Petra was saying, “I need to borrow the man you’re trying to molest.” You laughed.

Harry was quick to move himself, causing Petra to lose her balance and remove herself from him. You grabbed Harry’s hand and brought him down the hallway and to your bedroom, closing the door behind you. Harry thought he might be in trouble from you.

“Are you okay?” You ask him with caution in your eyes, keeping his hand in yours.

Harry nods and grins, “M’alright. Just didn’t expect for her to sit in my lap. Wasn’t trying to be sneaky or anything.”

You shook your head and laughed, “I didn’t think you were trying to be sneaky, Harry. I just didn’t want you to feel overwhelmed. You seemed flustered. But maybe you liked it? Having a pretty woman in your lap. I mean, looks like you enjoyed it.” You motion to the clear bulge of an erection under his dark jeans and his eyes go wide.

“Fuck. I’m sorry, Y/N, I kind of had one before she even sat in my lap. From you, though. Not that Petra isn’t pretty but it was already there and then she sat in my lap and that just didn’t help matters.” He scratched the back of his neck.

God you couldn’t wait to put him out of his misery. “Aww… poor thing. You’ve just been hard for me all this time?”

Harry quirked an embarrassed smile and nodded, “Sorry.”

You stepped closer to him and brought both hands up to his chest and slid your arms over his shoulders, “Don’t be sorry. I like that you’re hard for me. I’m gonna take care of you when they leave, but until then, are you going to okay or do you need a break? You can come to my room anytime you need. In fact, if you need to take care of this,” you pressed your hips to his, being sure to rub over his bulge with your thigh, “I’ll give you some privacy.”

You could see Harry throat jump as he swallowed, “No. No. I’ll be okay. Maybe I’ll just get some water or I don’t know…”

“How about a puff of weed? That’ll relax you.”

Harry said no at first, to your offer of weed. He followed you out of your bedroom and out to the balcony where you refreshed his beer. Dale came out to the balcony with you and Harry and you smoked a little more weed.

“You don’t smoke weed? Missing out man. This is pretty good shit.” Dale inhaled and passed you the joint.

You watched Harry as he shifted a little while you took a drag. He kept looking at Dale, who was standing too close to you.

You handed the joint back to Dale and he moved himself in front of you and placed his hand on the exterior wall directly behind you, half caging you in.

Harry stood up straight and you saw that now his brows were furrowed as he watched Dale crowd you.

“This is a nice apartment. You must make pretty good tips at the club. Was thinking of going up there next time you work.”

Just as you were about to speak and move away from Dale, Harry grabs onto his shoulders and nudges him away from you a few inches, “Give her a little space mate.” Harry keeps his eyes on you and you smile at him, really not expecting him to step in like that.

“Who are you again? You fucking her or something?” Dale scoffs and turns to look at Harry as he speaks.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business. Just give her some space.” Harry and Dale are facing one another, and Dale is pretty high so you’re not too worried about this escalating but you don’t like Dale’s attitude.

“Nah, man. If she wants space she’ll tell me herself. Plus, she’s a stripper and you know how they like attention…”

Harry’s expression changes for a split second as he darts his eyes to you and then back to Dale. You didn’t want him to find out you were a stripper like this. It wasn’t that you were embarrassed by it but people tended to have an assumption about strippers and you wanted to tell Harry in your own time.

“I’m not sure how that gives you the right to crowd her. Come on, Y/N. Let’s go inside.” He grasps your hand and opens the sliding door, pulling you in with him.

You’re genuinely surprised by Harry’s demeanor and a bit impressed. Harry on the other hand, is feeling possessive a little and he wants to display his claim over you. He knows you’re not his but you did give him a promise of something to look forward after all your friends leave and that’s enough for him to act as if he can remove you from a guy who’s standing too close for his liking. He’s also never been in a real relationship so this seems like a natural move to him.

You and Harry stand near your kitchen area and you start to see a little more than just an attractive guy who’s probably super smart. The way he’s standing tall and very close, blocking you from Dale’s view at the angle he’s positioned seems a touch territorial. And you like it. Not to mention how he confronted Dale in the most direct way, going so far as to put his hands over Dale’s shoulders to physically move him away from you.

Harry looked down at you and then over his shoulder, as he put a hand onto his hip and bent his elbow outward like what animals do when they make themselves bigger to scare away anything who tries to take something of theirs. Harry may have never had sex before but he was seriously the jealous type.

When everyone finally left and the apartment was quiet you locked your door and went to your kitchen to pick up a bit. Harry was already busying himself with putting things away and rinsing dishes. Which, if you’re honest, is like the hottest form of foreplay there is. And it was hot because Harry wasn’t doing it for that reason. He was doing it because he was genuinely nice and wanted to help.

Things looked pretty good. There wasn’t a lot of mess since everyone mostly used plastic disposable cups that were tossed in the trash.

Harry’s broad shoulder and we’ll built back we’re stretching his white t-shirt a little and you wanted to rub your hands along his shoulder blades. You leaned next to him and smiled at how deep in thought he appeared to be.

“Thank you for helping. You don’t have to do that, Harry. I can take care of it tomorrow.” You watched as he rinsed a glass and placed it in your dishwasher.

“It’s the least I could do. You’ve been a nice host.” He closed the dishwasher and stood up straight.

You took a step toward him gently took his hand, “Come on, Harry. It’s late already and I think we have a whole lot of things to cover tonight.” You pulled Harry behind you toward your bedroom. You were starting to feel your own nerves bubble up. You had no problem taking the lead in the bedroom but Harry was a virgin and you wanted to do this in a way made him look back fondly.

You closed the door after Harry stepped into your bedroom and turned to face him. He was standing with his arms hanging heavy by his sides, eyeballing your bed and then turning to face you. This was really happening. Harry didn’t know what to expect but he was excited. He was nervous, but you made him feel comfortable.

“Just so you know… I don’t care that you’re a dancer. Dale was a prick for saying it like that. Um… just didn’t want you think that…” Harry swallowed; he was really having a hard time keeping calm. And his choice of small talk to soothe his nerves wasn’t helping.

You can tell right away that he’s struggling so you close the space between your bodies, and you put your arms over his shoulder looking up at him, “Thank you, Harry. For dealing with Dale the way you did. I really appreciate it. And I’m sorry that’s the way you found out that I’m a stripper.” You backed away and grabbed his hand, leading him toward your bed, “Sit.” You gesture to your mattress.

You both sit down next to one another while you turn so your knees are pointed at Harry and you place a hand on his thigh, “So, you obviously work out. You’re busy being a scientist and you exercise in your spare time?” You laugh, trying to lighten the mood. Harry was well built. There was no way he didn’t work out, at least a little hard for his physique.

Harry looked down and nodded as he laughed, “Yeah. Four days a week, an hour and half each session. Nothing special.” He looked at you.

“Can I kiss you now, Harry?” You drew your hand up his thigh further and leaned toward him as he nodded.

Harry turned to face you and without being prompted he put his arms around your waist and pulled you toward him. It caught you off guard a little but of course you didn’t mind it. You pressed your mouth to his and began to softly kiss his pinks lips. Harry began to open and close his mouth as he returned the kiss. He seemed eager but his lips didn’t feel inexperienced on yours. He was gentle and slow but pressed into your mouth enough for you to understand his intentions were to take this further, that he liked it.

When you introduced your tongue to his lips he opened his mouth and flattened his tongued, allowing you to lick over his. You nudged Harry a bit and released your mouth, “Scoot up so your back is to the headboard, and I can sit in your lap and face you, kiss you like that. Does that sound okay?”

Harry nodded, his pink lips swollen and wet from kissing you. He scooted himself further into your bed and sat with his back to your headboard. You climbed up to him and straddled his legs with your thighs before sitting yourself flat over his lap, pressed as closely to his body as you could be. You returned your arms to over Harry’s shoulders and brought your hands up to put into his hair at the back of his head, pushing your lips back to his.

The kiss was gentle and sexy. You and Harry licked at each other and moaned as you made out. His lips were so nice to kiss and you felt your heart rate increase moment by moment. You began to gently roll your hips over Harry’s lap and you felt him hard under your thigh. A nice solid bulge that you could tell was rather sizeable. You couldn’t wait to see him without his clothes.

So you leaned back, your lips making a smacking sound as you parted from his lips. You reached down to pick up each of Harry’s hands in yours and you pulled his hands up so they were on your body. The thin fabric of the dress wasn’t doing much to hide his warm hands on your skin. You could feel him begin to gently squeeze at you. You pulled his hands toward your breasts and guided his palms to cup you.

Harry’s jaw was slack. His gaze went from your eyes to where his hands were and then back up to your face. It was like he couldn’t decide where to focus. You continued rolling your hips over him as you spoke, “Can I take these off?” You removed your hands from his and brought them up to the frames of his glasses.

Harry nodded, “Sure. Probably don’t need them for this.” He chuckled.

You slid his glasses off his face and folded the temples of the frames at the hinges before placing them on your bedside table. You noted the brand, Gucci. You hadn’t expected that.

Harry still had his palms over your breasts when you pushed your lips back onto his. Without you needing to guide him, he slowly brought both palms down over your sides and then down to the tops of your hips and squeezed. His palms were large and you loved how they felt on you.

You leaned back to speak, “I’m going to slip my dress off really quick, okay? Do you want to help me?” You made sure to give him eye contact.

Harry smiled and swallowed, “Yeah.”

You shifted a bit, lifting your bottom and pulling at the hem of your dress bringing it up over your bottom and then you sat back over him firmly, now your small thong was the only thing covering your pussy. Harry was well aware of this fact too. He put his hands where yours were at the bottom hem of your dress and he helped you pull the material up and over your head.

You tossed your dress and watched as Harry’s facial expression changed quickly from shock, to amazement, and then to something animal. The man was dying for intimacy.

He suddenly leaned in and had you tilt back at his force, so he could kiss your breasts. You closed your eyes at the feel of him on you. He wrapped his lips around your left nipple first and sucked in hard. It stung a bit, in the best way. You opened your eyes to watch him and to your surprise he was looking up at you already. He was watching you to find out what you needed and wanted. Harry was clearly a quick learner and probably already had some idea of what women liked. And that was true. Harry had read enough about women and their bodies (both academic and opinion pieces) as well as watched porn with real couples having sex. He might have never done this before but he could pick up some clues from the things he’d learned.

After Harry had given your left breast a good minute of his time, he moved over to the right one, repeating what he’d just done. He closed his eyes this time, suckling at you and licking over your breast in wonder.

You clasped your fingers into his hair to lift him up and you both looked at one another for just a moment. You were going to tell him what a good job he was doing but just as you were going to speak Harry shifted under you, grasping your hips, and tilted you down to put you flat onto your back, your thighs still draped over Harry’s.

He moved from his position and lifted you by your hips to push you down the bed a bit as he climbed in between your legs and then rubbed his hands up to your hip bones and then over your tummy.

Harry was freaking out but he knew what he wanted and he had a good idea of what you wanted, to some extent. He was going to have you guide him through cunnilingus. He’d never had the chance to do it and his mouth watered at the thought of getting to taste you and smell you up close.

“Do you want cunnilingus? I can do whatever you want, just tell me how you want it.”

You looked up at the man and you were in awe. Your mouth involuntarily parted at his words. That was the sexiest sentence you’d ever had uttered to you before, especially since it was coming from Harry with his deep voice and British accent.

“Mmm… yeah, definitely. First, I need you to take off your shirt and pants. You can take off your underwear too if you like or leave them on. Whatever makes you most comfortable.” You wanted to see him. Harry was hot and you just knew he looked great naked.

Harry kept his eyes on you, dark pupils taking over the green irises. He grabbed the back collar of his shirt and pulled it off over his head and then he knelt up and undid his belt. When he began to unbutton his pants he chuckled and looked at you with soft eyes, “M’not wearing any knickers, so just gonna…” he didn’t need to finish his sentence when he pulled his pants down and shifted himself to pull them off his legs, dropping them to the floor.

You weren’t one for dramatics when it came to trying to make someone feel good about their appearance. You’d generally throw out a good compliment here and there but with men, you tried not to feed their egos too much. But this was different. Harry’s dick was worthy of your praise and attention. Beautifully heavy, long, thick… it was the ideal dildo-sized kind of penis. The one that’s bigger than average, and longer too, but not so big that it’s monster-sized and hard to handle. Though, he was closing in on being a size too large for you. You knew well what you could handle and this one was going to give you a run for your money.

“Y’okay? Is this alright?” Harry seemed concerned. You moved your eyes from the cock of perfection up to his dilated eyes and nodded quickly.

“Ooh, Harry. I’m more than fine. I just needed a second to take a look at you. That’s a very pretty cock you have.” You breathed your words out, as you looked back down to his dick, “I am honored that I get to be the first to experience it.”

That was music to Harry’s ears. He liked this, being told his cock was pretty. He was well aware that he was larger than average. He’d just never had the words spoken to him by a woman before. He trembled a little at the praise and watched you as you licked your lips with your eyes on his penis.

And then there was Harry’s body. Of course he had tattoos over his chest, on his hips, some on his legs, a tiger on his thick and muscular thigh. Some dark tattoos scattered over his arms… but the way he was built. He was in better shape than you were and your job consisted of you working out naked in front of people for hours on end. But here Harry was with his broad shoulders and wide chest, lean torso with indents where you were able to make out his six-pack. His pecs were well defined and the hairs scattered over his chest were masculine and attractive.

You pushed yourself up, keeping your elbows back behind you, “Okay, so… Just start by maybe kissing over my pussy a little. Get the feel for it first. I’m gonna take my panties off though, okay?”

Harry was fast to put his own fingers into the band of your thong before you did, “Can I?” He looked to you with soft rounded eyes.

You smiled at him and nodded, “Be my guest, Harry.”

He kept his eyes on you at first, you noted. As he began to remove the fabric from your lower half. But when he finally did look down to your center he let out the smallest groan and continued staring at your little crease that was already shiny from your own arousal seeping out.

You were aroused for him and that just made Harry feel like he was going to lose his mind. Your body was already preparing itself to receive Harry’s penis. It made Harry’s stomach twist in delight.

When your panties were gone Harry adjusted himself in between your legs and did as you told him. He started with a small kiss right at the top of your mound. He took in a deep breath for both his own nerves and to smell you. He always wondered what pussy smelled like and now he was getting to smell one. Yours. And you smelled nice. It was a light smell, but it smelled earthy, real, musky… He kissed your slit again and again until he got the feel and settled into a comfortable position. You bent your knees and spread your thighs apart for him to give him access but then Harry reached around, under your thighs, causing you to angle your hips up a bit. He pushed your knees up over his shoulders, and then he gave you an open mouth kiss this time. He repeated a few times and then you felt him graze your clit and you moaned.

Harry looked up at you and duplicated what he’d just done to get that reaction from you again. When you groaned and looked down at him his eyes were on yours. You watched him lick at your clit, and then he looked down to the spot that had you moaning. He removed an arm from under your thigh to thumb over you, “This feels good here?” He watched your face as he dragged the pad of his thumb over your clit in circles.

“Yeah… how did you? Fuck, that feels good,” you spoke out in a breath as he continued rubbing you.

Harry smirked and licked his lips, “The clitoris. I’m supposed to try and focus right here. Unless it’s too sensitive for you. I’ve read some women don’t like it as much, but most do.”

You nodded and laughed out in disbelief at this man, “Yeah… I really like it. So that’s great. You’re pretty much a natural at this Harry. Just keep touching and licking my clit. You can finger me if you want too. Like push a couple of fingers inside of me.”

Harry got right back to it. Thumbing over your clit and attaching his mouth to your entrance. It was gentle and nice. Harry was a determined man and this was a good thing for you to be on the receiving end of.

Then Harry switched where his thumb was and slid a finger down through your crease, spreading you apart to take a look at your hole. He plunged his middle finger in and watched his entire finger disappear. He pulled out and then pushed back in, the sound of your arousal sticky and wet.

“Feels good, Harry. You can put in two fingers and like, curl then upward, up toward my tummy.”

Harry followed your instruction, inserting a second finger and curling, dragging his fingers in and out slowly, watching your pussy take his digits in and then how wet they were when he’d pull them out.

He looked up at you and adjusted his fingers until you bucked your hips up and he felt like that was a good sign. He replicated his motion and you groaned and smiled at him. He was good.

“Now, you can lick over my clit while you’re fingering me like that. Even kind of gently suck on it, kiss over it. That always feels so good. MMmmm… yes… okay, just like… oh my god…” Harry was quick to follow your directions. He did as you said before you finished your sentence.

Now Harry was feeling in a good rhythm with you. His fingers hitting something inside of you and his mouth over your clit in the way you asked for. He kept closing his eyes but he’d open them to watch you every few moments. He couldn’t lie and say his jaw wasn’t starting to hurt a little but he felt the ache would be worth it if he could make you come.

It did take a while too. At one point you even pushed at Harry’s head so you could give him a break, try something else if he needed, “Do you want me to suck you off now? Or do something different. You’ve been down there a while.” You laugh out.

Harry frowned and shook his head, “Was hoping to get you off like this. If you need something different, then I can do whatever you need.” His face was slick with your arousal and you knew you could come like this with what he was doing, you just didn’t want to overwhelm him. So you let him continue because he seemed to really want to. You didn’t need to rush anyway. You’d let Harry give you an orgasm with his mouth so he could add that to the notch in his belt.

You grasped onto Harry’s hair when you felt yourself start to tremble. Harry’s mouth was slurping at you and giving your clit just enough pressure that you could feel your orgasm begin to make its way through your body.

When Harry felt you quiver under him he looked up to see that your mouth was hung open and your eyes were closed tightly. Your groans egged him on. He could feel something shifting in your demeanor. Perhaps you were about to come. He licked and sucked and lapped and slurped, continuously moving his fingers in and out of you how you liked.

“Ouuhhhhhh…” you moaned, “Fuck… Harry! God!” You clenched your jaw as you finally came, relief pouring from your veins as you gyrated your hips and rubbed your pussy over his face, your hands in his hair, pushing his mouth into you harder.

Harry loved it. He loved giving head. This was something he’d want to try with you again. He continued lapping at your clit with his eyes on you as you appeared to calm down a bit. You released his hair and pushed him away, too sensitive at that very moment for more.

Harry sat up and smoothed his hands over your thighs and watched as you breathed and kept your eyes closed. You were a beautiful woman. He liked your pretty breasts and soft thighs, your little wet pussy that smelled so good, and your slender fingers that pulled at his hair when you were coming…

When you opened your eyes to look at Harry he was sitting back on his ankles and searching over your body with his eyes. His large dick, hard, neglected.

You cleared your throat, “You get an A for that. Made the teacher come on your first try.” You laughed.

Harry smiled at you, one side of his mouth quirking up further than the other, “I’ve got a great teacher. Can’t take all the credit.”

You sat your self up and brought your hands up to Harry’s chest, leaning up to him to kiss him again, your tongue smoothing over his. You could get used to this with Harry. He was so sensual and a great listener. Plus, being so smart he was obviously going to remember the things you’d taught him. He was already quick to pick up things without being told, you could only imagine how much better he’d get with more practice and direction from you.

You brought your palm down to Harry’s thigh and moved back a tiny bit to speak, “Can I touch your pretty cock, Harry?” your lips brushed over his as you asked.

“Yes.” He was quick to respond, pressing his lips back to yours as you slid your hand between his thighs and in toward his balls, grazing over them lightly, then slowly brushing up over his shaft to his tip. Harry paused his lips and breathed out a puff of breath against yours at the feel of your hand on him.

You wrapped your hand around him and stroked gently and then released his cock to wipe your palm over your wet center to gather your own natural lubricant to use on Harry. You didn’t stop kissing him the entire time. Harry was eager in returning open mouthed kisses with small flicks of his tongue to you.

When you placed your hand back around his shaft and began stroking he moaned and his lips paused again. You didn’t mind the break as you kept gliding your hand up and down his length. Harry started to rock into your hand as you slid your fist downward.

“Do you like this, big guy?” You spoke, your lips brushing over Harry’s.

He nodded and opened his eyes to look at you. He couldn’t believe that this awful day turned into a day he’d never forget. Your small, warm hand over his dick felt so much different than when he did it himself and being with another person like this is so much more fun.

You and Harry stared at one another while you pumped his heavy prick. Now you wanted him down your throat. You wanted to make him come with your mouth and then make him come again after he recovered with your cunt.

“Have you ever had a blow job, Harry?” You asked him directly. You had no idea how much experience he’d had. He didn’t go into detail with you.

Harry nodded, “Yes. Just one time.” He pulled his lips into his mouth and looked downward toward the edge of the mattress. You could tell he was struggling with feeling embarrassed about his lack of experience.

“Mmm… well then, I was thinking, if you want, I can give you a blowjob. I wanna put your pretty cock in my mouth, make you come down my throat, and get my mouth and throat stretched out by your big… pretty… cock.” You kept pumping him as you watched his expression. He was convinced you came from a dream.

“Yes.” He breathed heavy imagining what you’d look like with his cock in your mouth. His head was spinning but then he remembered something, “Um, y/n?”

You slowed your hand down and got onto your knees as you were about to get into position, pausing, “Yeah?”

“I am probably going to come, like super, embarrassingly fast, ehm… and I kind of wanted to have sex with you. If you want!” His eyes widened.

You brought your hands up and placed your palms flat on his chest, “I want to have sex with you, Harry. Absolutely. I would like to have sex with you after I give you a blow job. I want to make you come, and then you and I will lay here together and talk a little, get to know one another, maybe kiss, and touch a little, and then once you’ve recovered and you get hard again, we can have sex and you’ll last a lot longer after you’ve recently had an orgasm, so it’ll be even better for me that way too.” You wanted to be sure to explain it plainly to him.

Harry smiled down at you and nodded, “Okay.” He was excited to feel you on him in any way you’d give him, but he knew he was going to come fast. Eating you out had nearly done him in.

You moved yourself between his legs, pushing them apart for your access. Harry leaned back against the headboard and watched as you worked your mouth over his thighs and pecked your lips up his hips. You looked up at him and Harry groaned softly as his cock twitched at the way you looked in between his legs and you weren’t even touching his dick.

You decided to put him out of his misery. The poor guy needed some attention now. So, you slid your hand to palm over his cock and you lifted him toward your mouth. Spitting over the tip, you looked up at him, and he had his eyes closed. He couldn’t look or he’d come too fast. He wanted to enjoy having your mouth on him for at least a couple of minutes. So, he couldn’t look. Not yet.

You smoothed your saliva down his shaft and smiled to yourself about how nice this was going to be. How good you were going to make him feel.

You kissed the very tip of his cock because it deserved one, it was so pretty, “Harry, I’m gonna put you in my mouth now. If you want anything specific from me, just tell me. You can hold onto the back of my head if you want,” Harry opened his eyes and looked down at you, “…push me down over you, not too hard, but put pressure on the back of my head if you want me to go deeper or just to hold me in place. If you want me to massage your balls or suck on them, tell me, otherwise, I’m just gonna go for it and start slow. Okay?”

Harry nodded, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his mouth watering at the notion of being sucked off by the beautiful woman sat between his legs.

You swiped your tongue over him and then lowered your mouth down as far as you could comfortably go on the first pass. Harry’s cock was wide and it would be a lot to take all the way. You weren’t sure you could. But you knew you could give a good blow job regardless.

With your tongue dragging up and down the underside of Harry’s cock, your lips wrapped tightly over him, and your cheeks hollowed as you sucked on him, Harry had to close his eyes again. He began to moan out in shaky breaths.

You sucked and swiped your tongue around Harry, bobbing your head and attempting to get him deeper. You looked up at Harry and his neck was straining. Suddenly he put his hands in your hair and bucked his hips with a grunt.

You lowered yourself down and sucked on him hard. Harry was moving his hips in rhythm with your mouth. You bet he’d probably enjoy fucking your mouth one day. Maybe next time you’d encourage him to do it. But right now? Harry was about to come, you could tell he was nearly there.

With everything in you, a deep breath, and eyes closed, you went down over him further and felt him nudge the back of your throat, causing you to gag lightly and swallow around Harry’s frenulum.

“Ahhh… uhhoooww…” Harry breathed out and moaned at the feel. He really liked that. But even as good as it felt, he looked down at you in worry when you gagged but as far as he could tell you liked it because you didn’t pull off and you continued doing what you were, gagging lightly over him. You were purposely doing it and it felt so fucking good for him.

When you looked up at him again, this time his eyes were on yours. The sight of your eyes looking up at him with his cock in your mouth as you gagged when he bucked his hips was his ending.

His eyebrows shot up and his mouth hung open as he groaned and felt his orgasm pour out of him and down your throat.

You gagged and coughed over Harry’s cock as he came, but you stayed over him and continued working him as he orgasmed, swallowing him down and humming.

When Harry finally stilled and his dick stopped twitching, you removed your mouth and sat up between his legs. His eyes were heavy, and he had a small grin on his face.

“You taste so good, Harry. I could do that every day.” You climbed next to him against the headboard and cuddled into his side, draping and arm over his stomach.

Harry put a hand over your arm and pulled at you so you’d be even closer, with a smile still on his face. He hummed and closed his eyes, “I know this isn’t going to be that great of a compliment because this is only the second time I’ve been given head, but that was the best head I’ve ever had.” He laughed and you smiled and nuzzled into his chest lightly. He was so fucking adorable.

You two laid quietly for a bit, resting and recovering. You were also glad for the small period between orgasms. You were looking forward to fucking him, but a little break was good.

Eventually you and Harry began to talk a little. You told him about living in Chicago and how long you’d been in the city, he told you more about his biochemistry research and his life back in London. You learned that Harry didn’t have a drivers license but that he had a bike to get around. You told Harry about your hobbies and interests and a little about the club you worked at.

“Are you sure you don’t want a puff of a joint? I think it’ll help you relax a little, plus, and you might already know this, it makes sex feel so incredible. Your senses are all heightened and it’s just so so good. I mean, you don’t have to. But I kind of want to have a little and thought I’d offer.”

You sat up and looked at Harry. He did seem more relaxed now that he’d had an orgasm, but you wanted him even more comfortable. He squinted his eyes and took a deep breath looking at you, “Sure. Okay. I’ve never smoked weed before so… Just a small bit.”

You quickly got out of your bed and left your bedroom in search for the joint. You walked through your apartment naked and plucked the joint from your coffee table and grabbed a lighter before going back to your room to Harry.

Climbing up to the bed with a big smile on your face, you settled yourself right back next to Harry, your knees angled toward him and nudging into his side as you lit the joint and breathed in the substance.

You handed the joint to Harry and watched him as he copied your actions, inhaling as the tip reddened and the combusted material was breathed into his lungs. He coughed immediately. Hacking a little and leaning forward to catch his breath. His face got red and he coughed some more. You chuckled and patted his back.

“You okay?” You leaned your head down to keep your eyes on his face as he continued coughing.

Harry cleared his throat and smiled, coughing again, and then looked back at you, “I’m okay. That wasn’t as bad as I thought it’d be. Hurts going down the throat, though.” He grasped his throat and grimaced before laughing.

When Harry’s lungs had mostly recovered you two sat back again and you smoothed your hand up his chest as you continued light conversation.

“So, why didn’t you have any underwear on? Do you usually go commando?” You giggle, feeling the buzz from Sour Diesel strain you’d just smoked.

And Harry was really feeling the buzz. He was super comfortable and relaxed suddenly. He couldn’t ever remember a time in his life where he’d felt so chilled out. Ever. He blinked his eyes looking at you as you asked him about his underwear situation and he smacked his lips, feeling a bit parched before speaking, “Yeah. I don’t like underwear. Not to brag or anything, but most men’s underwear are quite restrictive on my package and so I have to buy a special brand for more, larger sizes, and they’re quite pricey so mostly I just go without.”

You nodded and slid your hand down his torso toward his dick. You brushed your fingers over his soft skin and looked up at him with your hand petting at him. Even flaccid, Harry was impressive. You really loved the way his dick looked. You were tempted to give him another blow job.

Just as that thought popped into your head Harry turned to look at you and he angled his body toward yours. Putting a hand up over your hip, he skimmed his fingers up your smooth skin, and then back down over your hips, chancing to go a bit lower over your bum.

“Can I go down on you again? Just for like a little bit? I can really feel the effects of that joint and I have a sudden urge to taste you once more.” His eyes were bloodshot and his lips were dark pink.

You nodded quickly and Harry moved away from the headboard and climbed in between your legs, pulling at your thighs to move you flat onto your back.

And just like the first time he did it, he started with a small kiss at your mound, but unlike the first time, he knew exactly what you wanted and honed in on your clit pretty quickly. He mostly just gently licked at you for a bit. Keeping his eyes on you as he flattened his tongue and swiped his tongue up and down your slit.

You got wet after only a few minutes of Harry’s tongue over you. And it felt so good being high and getting licked on. You grabbed your tits and squeezed as you moaned.

“Oh god, Harry. You are so good. Oh my god…” you panted.

When Harry felt you were wet enough he plunged two fingers into your opening, making sure to get the angle correct and then he began to sip at your clit again, wet sounds coming from his mouth and your cunt.

When you began to tingle and feel lightheaded you sighed and groaned and looked down at Harry, eagerly working over you with his lips and his fingers.

“Hhh… Harry? Hold on, there…” You pushed at him so he’d stop. He lifted his face to look at you, fingers still knuckles deep.

 “Are you hard? Do you feel like you’re ready now? Or do you need more time? I’m kind of desperate to feel you inside of me.” It had been about thirty minutes since Harry orgasmed and he was definitely hard and ready now. He nodded quickly at you.

You sat up, causing Harry’s fingers to slip away and he knelt up from his position. It was then you saw his erection.

You cooed at him and smiled, “Oooh… you are ready. I have condoms. And… I think I’m gonna need just a little bit of lube for this too, you’re a big guy.” You wink at him as you slip off your bed to grab a condom and your bottle of lube.

Harry watched you move around your room naked with his lip bit and then looked down at himself, fully thickened. He was so horny again already and even though he wasn’t feeling as sensitive as when you’d given him a blow job, he was still worried he’d come too fast for you.

You climbed back onto your bed toward Harry and perched yourself in between his legs as you lifted the condom.

“Have you ever put a condom on? I know you haven’t had sex, but maybe you’ve tried putting one on before?”

Harry nodded, “Yeah, out of curiosity. S’been a while, though. Think I could probably figure it out.” He reached for the packet and looked at you for a second before sitting upright and gently tearing the foil to remove the rubber.

He took a close look at the condom and then settled it firmly over the tip of his cock and began rolling it slowly down his shaft. His eyes went back up to yours, almost as if to gauge your reaction to make sure he was doing it correctly. And of course he was. Getting a condom over a dick wasn’t rocket science but sometimes it could be a bit of a hassle, but Harry seemed to understand the mechanics easily.

Once Harry’d gotten the condom over his shaft as far as it would roll down, you climbed up into his lap, straddling him and planted a soft kiss to his lips.

Harry reached around your back and pulled you in to his frame tightly as he pushed his mouth onto yours in return.

Harry was naturally a good kisser. He was eager but didn’t take it too far. He used a little tongue and his lips were soft and unhurried. Harry was already a very good lover, very giving and very patient.

When Harry slid his hands down your back and found your ass your eyes popped open. He made a bold move on his own, and even though he’d made a few bold moves without prompting, it still surprised you a little bit. But then when he squeezed and pulled you hard toward him and your cunt smushed itself against his condom-covered cock you gasped.

This was really happening. You and Harry were both on the same page. You were both excited and nervous but in the best way. Harry for finally having the chance of feeling the inside of a pussy, of your pussy specifically, and you for getting to ride such a pretty cock, attached to such a pretty man.

When you felt it was time to move forward, when you couldn’t take not having him inside of you any longer, you leaned back and placed your palms on his chest.

“How do you want to start? Do you want me to lie down on my back and you can control the pace that way? Go in as slowly or quickly as you like?” You bite your lip in anticipation and at the way Harry is looking at you, it’s making your head spin. He’s so attractive and so sweet. You wouldn’t be surprised if he made you fall for him completely.

Harry breathes out and nods, “Yeah, okay. But I only want to do what you like. So, if you prefer a different position, I’m okay with anything. I’ve obviously not got a preference just yet. I think any way is going to be my favorite.” He softly laughs.

With your lip still bit and your hormones in full bloom you press your hands over his thigh and lean up to give him another kiss before laying back, spreading your legs apart. Harry couldn’t keep his eyes off you anymore, unlike earlier in the night when he felt bad for looking. Now, you were inviting it and he was going to commit to memory all your parts; your curves, your freckles, the dip of your belly button, your lips, and hair, everything.

“I just want it to be good for you, Harry. This is your first time. I think you’ll like trying it like this first. We can always explore other positions another time.”

Harry thought he could faint. Not only were you so sexy and kind, but he was also about to lose his virginity to you. He wasn’t actually concerned about the virginity part. Virginity was pretty much just a social construct anyway. He wasn’t trying to hold onto it or preserve it. He just wanted to have sex.

“Okay. Just tell me what you like and I’ll do it. I want you to come again too.” He looked into your eyes as he spoke, leaning over you, situating himself so his cock was parallel with your cunt. You nodded and smiled at him, reaching up to cup at his cheek. He was so good, so thoughtful. You were pretty sure this was the most fun you’d ever had with a man during sex and you hadn’t even had his cock inside of you yet.

“Yeah? You want me to come on your cock? You want to know what it feels like to have a woman’s cunt squeezing at you as you bring her to orgasm? Hmm?” You tease him with a grin.

Harry nodded and swallowed. God did he want that.

You reached out to grab the lube and Harry gave you a little space as you drizzled the liquid into your hand. You looked up at Harry as you reached for his dick and smoothed the lube over his condom and swiped the rest over your opening to make it easier for him to enter you. Snapping the cap shut you tossed the bottle and looked back up at him with a smile.

“Whenever you’re ready, Harry. All you have to do is just push your penis inside of me and then I think the rest is mostly self-explanatory.”

Harry nodded again and looked down at himself and grasped the base of his cock, pressing his tip to your entrance. He looked up at your eyes and pushed upward, moving his cock a little so it nudged at your clit and then and then he looked back down and sat his head over your entrance again, “Okay. I’m gonna… are you okay?” He was more worried about you than himself in all honesty. He just wanted to be good for you.

You nod and smile, “I’m very okay. I think you should fuck me now, Harry.” You wiggled yourself so your opening was draped over the tip of his cock and Harry watched as he held himself up to you and slowly pushed past your entrance. He couldn’t take his eyes off the view. You were so pretty, and the way your little pussy spread open to accommodate his girth was incredible. It was the hottest thing he’d ever seen in his life. He’d never forget this picture.

And you could feel your pussy being spread for him as he slowly inched his way inside. You watched his face as he watched where he was pushing into you. You moaned softly at the feel and how much he was stretching you. You lifted your hand up to cup his jaw with your mouth dropped open. He felt so good already.

Harry quickly brought his eyes up to yours when he felt your fingers over his jaw, “Feels okay?” he panted out as he spoke.

You nodded, “Yes…” you breathed out your words in a little whine. You both kept eye contact for a bit as he continued his excruciatingly slow entry. You’d let him go as slow as he needed. Especially at first. This was his first time. You wanted him to feel it how he wanted to feel it. And he certainly could feel it. Of course the condom was a slight hinderance to how much he could feel but he was thankful, in a way, for the barrier. Not only because he didn’t want to spill his come inside of you, but because it would help make him less sensitive overall.

You kept your hand at his jaw and your eyes on his. His hair fell a bit into his face and you could tell Harry was enjoying this moment as much as you were.

When he’d gotten himself in as far as he could get he let out a shaky breath. He looked down where you were connected and noted how he still had a few more inches to go but he was met with some resistance at this point, “I don’t seem to be in all the way. Is this comfortable for you? This is kind of like as far as you can take me?” He looked up to your eyes and you leaned yourself up a bit so you could look and shook your head with a smile.

“You’re a bit longer than average, Harry, so you’re gonna have to work me open a little bit more before I can take you all the way. Shouldn’t take too long. Just start moving in and out a little, whatever pace feels good for you. Once you do that I’ll be able to accommodate you a little more and you’ll be able to be fully inside of me. It might just take a minute.”

It made sense. Harry realized your insides were quite malleable and if your body could adjust to pushing a baby from this canal, you could certainly adjust to taking his cock whole with some time. So he nodded and got to work.

Your legs were spread, knees bent, with your feet flat on the mattress. Harry began thrusting in and out, slowly at first. He kept a careful watch on you to make sure you were okay. But his slow thrusts felt so good in his body. He grunted as he picked up the pace and felt his body heat up. His chest began to flush and you soon began to lift your hips upward toward him each time he drove into you.

“Fucking so deep inside of me, Harry. You’re doing so good. My pussy feels good…” You can feel him getting deep into it. His body has the natural inclination to rock in a steady pace. Both of your bodies moving together on your bed, Harry rolling his hips into you, pressing deep into your cunt and your hips bucking up toward him.

Harry suddenly dips down to press his lips onto yours, his hips still rocking in and out of you. When he wraps his lips around your mouth you moan and butterflies fill your tummy that’s being nudged into with his tip at each thrust. You love how sensual and attentive he is to you. You’ve never had a man give you so much attention before and during sex. Harry had exceeded your expectations fully.

Harry loved it when you spoke dirty things to him. He wasn’t sure he could really return the dirty sentiments but he wanted to keep communicating with you so he could find out what to do and what you wanted.

With his thrusts becoming deeper, he could tell you were opening up a bit more for him, just like you said, “Feels like I’m deeper now. Is that good?” He had trouble keeping his words steady with the movement of his hips and how delicious you felt around him.

You smiled at him and brought your hands down to his ass so you could pull him closer. You spread your legs further and nodded, “Mmm… Harry you feel so… oh my god. Yes…” and that was really as much as you could convey as he dipped deeper in yet. Your wet pussy was slippery and his cock fit snugly inside but the way he pushed into all your parts and how your walls were being moved aside for his length felt more than good.

You whimpered when he began smacking into you, now completely filling you to the hilt.

“Uhh, uhh… ohh… like that…” you nodded as encouragement for him to keep up the cadence he was at. Your toes were already beginning to curl and your head felt in the clouds at his long cock reaching so far into you.

Harry was feeling how you wet you were and he could see that he was finally able to plunge himself into you completely, “I’m all way inside, like this.” He sharply snapped his hips into you when he said like this and you both grunted at the feel, mouths hung open.

“Yes you are. So big. Making me so full.” Your words were breathy and Harry’s thrusts were getting sharper. He was going quite hard actually, but fuck it felt good, even the slight sting from how far he reached into you felt yummy. You wanted his cock like this all the time.

“S’it too big? S’that feel good.” Harry’s shaky words were strained. He knew you felt good, the confirmation was in how wet you were and the sounds coming from your mouth each time he impaled you, the way you moaned or grunted, the slick sounds from your bodies.

“Mmm… almost too big, but it fits just right and feels so fucking good like this…” you whimpered your words. You didn’t feel like you were being fucked by an inexperienced man. Not at all.

And Harry was pleased by your words and how you enjoyed it. He also remembered how the clit was integral to sex for women, so he slowed his hips and leaned back a little to position himself so he could put his fingers on your clitoris.

With his knees bent and thighs spread a little, he pulled you up toward him further and rocked into you sitting up while you were still on your back. He licked his thumb and then pressed it over you and stroked your clit as he watched your face, “Like this? Feels good?” He needed constant confirmation, but you weren’t upset about it.

You nodded and watched him in amazement. Your face was flushed, and your chest was rising and falling rapidly in lust. He did everything just as he was meant to. There was no question to you about how good he was in bed. He was a natural, completely open and attentive. You weren’t going to let this be the only time he fucked you. You wanted to see what else he could do.

Your bed began to creak under the force of Harry’s thrusts and you choked out your moans each time he dipped into you. Harry’s own moans were getting louder. He couldn’t decide where to look. Your beautiful face, your bouncing tits, or your pussy that was spreading open for him each time he pushed in.

He fucked into you in a way that was only possible due to his strong physique. You’d had sex with big and broad men before but some of them never worked out and they’d grow tired too fast. But Harry was in excellent physical shape, and he didn’t seem tired at all. He was working his hips into you with such indulgence and steady pace that you knew would have you coming. Not to mention that he took initiative to include your clitoris in the action.

You couldn’t speak any more, and Harry wasn’t able to form any coherent sentences because his mind was becoming fuzzy as he felt his orgasm bubble through his guts slowly. He didn’t think he needed anymore confirmation from you anyway. He could tell you felt good. The room was silent, barring the wet slapping and patting noises from your bodies, along with the squeak of your bed that moved in rhythm with Harry’s deep thrusts.

You breathed out a long moan when your orgasm began to roll over your center and spread over your thighs and up to your belly. Harry felt you begin to shake lightly, your thighs convulsing slightly. He felt your cunt squeeze around his condom covered dick and he closed his eyes to hold back his orgasm. He knew you were about to come and this would do him in so he needed to focus to give you an orgasm first.

Harry rolled into you harder and continued petting over your clit with the pads of his fingers, applying the perfect pressure for you. You were so wet, dripping down over your ass, soaking the sparse dark hairs that were scattered around the base of Harry’s cock. You held onto your comforter, your fists balling up the soft fabric as you were getting pounded into by this supposed virgin. You half wondered if that was his schtick. To get girls in bed with him. But that thought was wiped away when you began to come and you opened your mouth wide as you moaned into your room.

“Fuck… ff… Hharry! Right the… ohhhhh…” Harry groaned at how harshly your walls pulsed around him. He tried, he really did but he couldn’t hold his own orgasm back. As you were coming around him he released into his condom with a breathy call of your name, throwing his head back and stilling his hips so he was plunged into you as far as his balls would allow.

Moments went by. Your orgasm was incredible. Harry gave your wet clit just enough attention and his cock was magic inside of you – just filling you up and pressing into anything and everything inside of you that mattered.

Harry was in a state of complete high ecstasy. He’d had plenty of orgasms in his life. But having an orgasm inside of a beautiful woman who was also having an orgasm around him was like he’d leveled up in life. How had he allowed himself to go so long? His work was the most important thing to him and he loved it, that would never change, but now that he’d had sex, he knew this would be something he wouldn’t want to deny himself any more.

You opened your eyes and Harry leaned down over you to drop his mouth to yours. He pressed soft kisses to your mouth and you opened your mouth and kissed him back, wrapping your legs around his low back, crossing at the ankles to hold him close. Harry rocked into you one last time, still seated firmly inside of you and you moaned.

He lifted his head and smiled lazily at you, “Was it good? It seemed like you had an orgasm, unless you were faking to make me feel good…” he narrowed his eyes at you.

You giggled and smoothed your hands up his back, “I didn’t fake a single thing. Harry, that was really good. I almost don’t believe you’re a virgin. That was too good.” You bite your lip as you look at the handsome man hovering over you.

Harry’s laugh was so sweet and it gave you goosebumps just hearing it, “Well, I’m not a virgin. Not now anyway.” His cheeky grin grew wide and his adorable dimples made their appearance, “I swear I was a virgin before today.”

You laughed and nodded, “Okay then. Well, you are better in bed than maybe anyone I’ve ever slept with. That was fucking really good. You are very good.”

Harry stared down at your face and looked over your features. He didn’t know what to do in this moment but he was feeling quite confident and very happy, and quite hungry as well, “Can I have some more pizza?” he blurted out.

You laughed and nodded, “Of course. There’s tons leftover. Feeling the munchies?” You were feeling a bit hungry too.

Harry nodded, “Guess so. That explains it,” he smiled as he sat back, your legs falling from him. Harry kept his hands at your thighs and then looked up at you with a sudden thought, “Unless you need me to go. I don’t need to stay if you would like me to leave. I’m sorry…” his confidence suddenly faded at the idea that he was overstaying his welcome.

You sat up and smiled softly, once again, gently caressing over his jaw, “Please stay. In fact, it would be nice if you could stay the whole night. If you want. I’m not ready for you to leave yet. And maybe we can do it all over again in the morning? Or in the middle of the night even? Try different positions, find out what you like.”

Harry could cry. That was exactly what he wanted to hear. He hoped that you’d want him to stay the night so he could know what it felt like to hold you and wake up next to you and experience the fabled morning sex that he’d heard was so good (though he couldn’t imagine that morning sex would be any better than the evening sex he’d just experienced). Now that he’d had sex, he wanted to have it more often. Not at that very moment of course, his natural refractory period already taking place. He nodded, “Yeah, okay.”

You felt a touch giddy at the fact that Harry wanted to stay the night and that you’d have another go with him. You were excited to get to know him and you felt that this could be a good friendship, if not more. You wouldn’t get ahead of yourself but you knew deep down that you’d be begging for him to fuck you often, and could probably even wind up falling for him. You could easily fall for him.

But right now, it was time to eat pizza.

The check-in

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[after-witch]

Missing the Forest for the Trees [Yandere Chrollo x Reader]

Title: Missing the Forest for the Trees [Yandere Chrollo x Reader]

Synopsis: You met Chrollo on a no-frills camping trek. Why does he think you want to be showered in lavish gifts?

Word Count: 1347

Notes: male reader, yandere, unhealthy relationship dynamic, implications of stalking 

The sight of the box sitting on your dining room table does nothing but make anxiety prickle in your stomach. Chrollo had been in your apartment again and he dropped off another present.

It felt like your life had become nothing but gifts lately. All useless, expensive things.  Too bad he never gets the hints that none of this is even remotely "you."

You live in a modest apartment, in a modest area, with modest things. You do all this for a reason.

The gifts weren’t the only thing bothering you lately. It was his attitude. It was the way you suggested getting some local grub and he insisted on taking you to some fine dining restaurant where you couldn't pronounce anything on the menu; the way you suggested a camping vacation (what better way to recreate the way you first met?) and he started showing you rooms at a luxury resort.

It was the look on his face when he did all these things; a look that said you should be impressed and grateful.

It had become easier to see lately that Chrollo didn’t understand you. Not really.

“Aren’t you going to open it?”

A sound leaves your throat that seems to get stuck halfway through and you begin to hack, choking on your own spit.

“Chrollo--” Your hand goes to your chest, an almost comical gesture, as you spot Chrollo standing at the entrance to the hallway that leads to your bedroom. He must have been in the bathroom when you came in. “What the hell,” you manage, voice crackling as you continue to cough.  

He approaches you, patting your back half-heartedly. When you regain your breath, you pluck the box off the table. It’s a small box. Maybe another watch.

You lift the top and… it’s a key. You hold it in your fingers, shiny and cold.

You raise your eyebrows.

He smiles, charming as ever.

“You said we should talk about moving in together, didn’t you?”

The feeling, the one you had in the woods, begins to creep its way back into your arms.

He taps his finger on the box, and you see that there’s a folded piece of paper tucked inside. You swear you hear a buzzing in your head, some low primal warning, before you unfold it.

It’s a luxury condo listing. The price is listed and the sight of all those numbers makes your jaw immediately tense.

You feel suddenly, wholly pissed.

“What the fuck, Chrollo?”

His mouth twitches.

“No, I mean it. What the fuck?” Your voice begins to raise, your tone more frantic, as everything comes crashing down in one big emotional heap. “Do you seriously know nothing about me? About how I want to live?”

Chrollo’s smile has now flattened to something more serious.

“I’m offering you a lifestyle beyond what most people dream of but will never hope to really attain.” He says this like you should know this already, like you should have simply accepted it.

You clench your fist tightly around the key. Then you look around at your apartment, the assortment of things you’ll never use, and you let out a deep sigh.

“Not me. Haven’t you noticed I don’t use any of the stuff you give me?” You almost think you can see gears whirling behind Chrollo’s eyes as you speak. “Don’t you remember how we met?” You gesture to yourself, to your body, to some figurative version of your soul. “I don’t give a rat’s ass about gold watches and suits that cost more than I make in a few months. I’m happy with just having a roof over my head and food in my stomach.”

You walk over to your bookshelf, now stuffed with expensive hardcovers and trinkets. You pick up the gold watch Chrollo gave you last week, a gold thing studded with diamonds.

“This--all this stuff isn’t what life should be about. It should be about…” You close your eyes and shake your head. “It should be about actually living. Experiencing things, even if you aren’t wearing some Egyptian silk suit while you do it.”

You keep your eyes on the watch as you continue.

“And if you think that buying some expensive-beyond-fucking-belief condo without telling me and expecting me to live there with you without any discussion is what our life should be then…” Your fingers fiddle with the buckle, probably Italian leather. “Maybe we don’t need to be together.”

There is a long, heavy silence. And then Chrollo speaks.

“You’re right.”

It’s not what you expected to hear, and you finally force yourself to look at him. He looks thoughtful as his eyes meet yours.

“You’re right,” he repeats. “I seem to have misjudged what might appeal to you during our courtship. I can correct that now, and we’ll continue on.”

“Listen,” you urge, trying to keep your tone civil. “I think you should go--”

His hand is around your upper arm suddenly, and for the first time since that night around the campfire, you do feel afraid. You’re strong--you have to be, with what you like to do. But there’s something unnatural in his grip that makes you realize you can’t get away.

Chrollo’s voice is calm, almost soothing. “I can show you things you’d never see otherwise.” He smiles, softly, an attempt at humor. “And you don’t have to wear a silk suit.”

Does he think it’s charming? Does he think you’ll be taken in? No, there’s something wrong here, something that has always been wrong, and it’s Chrollo’s tight grip that seems to give you clarity.

Your relationship had been off from the start. From the moment you met him in the woods. Camping, he said, just like you--but he’d been wearing a dressy shirt, hadn’t he? You had been tired and a bit starved for human contact, you didn’t question his story that he was with a group and got separated from them.

You didn’t stop to think too hard about his outfit. You didn’t stop to think about how you’d chosen a location deep into the woods, far away from any spaces where groups would think to set up camp. You didn’t think about the feeling you’d had as you trekked through the woods a week prior, the feeling of being watched. You thought it was an animal, but now…

From there, it was a blur. Phone numbers and addresses--no, it was only your information given out--exchanged. Gifts, and dates, and kisses and sex. But everything on Chrollo’s terms; what he wanted, and what he thought you should want.

“Chrollo.” Your voice is thick and you swallow. “I don’t want to be with you anymore. We’re not compatible.”

His grip tightens, and you really do try to struggle now, a primal reaction. But he’s so goddamn strong, and you can’t budge.

“We can be.” His words are firm and simple and they make an ice cold fear drop in your chest. “It will take some time, but I’m confident things will change..”

“I don’t want to,” you murmur, still desperate to pull away. “Chrollo, I want you to leave.”

He ignores you and reaches for your hand, still clenched in a fist around the key, and pulls your fingers away. The key is slipped into his pocket with ease.

“I’ll sell that place, if you like. I don’t normally stay so long in one location, anyway. You can come with me, instead.” Every word makes you feel heavy, more afraid. “You did want to travel, didn’t you?”

You shake your head, but he ignores it.

You’re pulled closer to him, and whereas once you might have welcomed the intimacy, you want nothing more than to be on the opposite side of the room. He brings himself closer until you can feel his breath on your face when he talks.

 “You said life is an experience. Then let me show you how I live.”

Both of his arms grip yours now, keeping you in place as he leans in and presses his lips against yours.

The kiss is salty, bitter, and warm. 

[thej0ry]

Are you the three weed smoking girlfriends guy?

I go to say something but stop last second. Instead, a warm smile appears as I nod behind you. "Looks like rain. Come on in." You turn around to look, and past the sea of dead fields surrounding this lonely farmhouse, dark clouds were forming. One foot after the next, you enter. I close the door.

Inside, a warm and inviting kitchen lays in front of you. Small, but cozy. A sweet aroma lingers in the air. "I was just making some tea. Happy to share." I say as I gesture you through a door into the living room. Once you're seated on the couch, I go stoke the fire in the fireplace and then take a seat across from you in an old rocking chair. "Do you mind?" I ask as I take a pipe from a table next to me. "I-it's your house." You say with a weak smile. "It is, but nonetheless. I know some people can't stand it so I try and ask when I remember. Don't want to upset the only visitor I've gotten in quite a long time." "Oh, do you live alone here?" The warm smile from before is back on my face. "What did you ask me at the door? Am I the, what?" "The weed smoking girlfriends guy." "That fellow behind all those killings those years ago?" "Yeah, him." "Now what would make you go an ask me such a thing?" Deep exhale deep inhale, smoke hanging in the air. You feel strange. Light headed. You shake it off and continue. "I'm doing an investigation on him, trying to find him. I apologize for the bluntness of the question but I ask everyone I interview that. Suppose, well... suppose someone's bound to say yes eventually." The warm smile again. "Well, that's one way of going about it. But the things I've heard about him... question like that would upset him a great deal. And the things he's capable of..." I shudder as I blow another cloud of smoke into the air. You try and summon all your confidence and bravado as you lift your coat to reveal your holstered gun. "I'm... counting on it." Thunder booms as lightning flashes across the sky making you jump, ruining any attempt of the calm-cool-collected persona you were trying to muster. Another smile from me, but this one you can't read. It's not warm this time. Something else. I take a few more puffs from the pipe. My eyes never leave you. "Hate to break it to you, with all the work you're doing, but I heard he's been in jail for quite some time now. Key thrown." I mime turning a key in a lock before tossing it behind my back. "I heard he escaped. I know he escaped. Followed some leads and it led me here." "Led you here, isn't that interesting. Is that why I'm being questioned?" "I believe he lives-- err lived here." "Lived here?" The ceiling groans as a few low rhythmic thuds move across it. Despite your best efforts the surprise visibly startles you. "You live here alone?" You ask. "Now that you mention it, I do feel like there was something... odd... about the previous owner. I looked into it shortly after buying the house. I have some paper work, public records, about the previous owner I can show you if that would help. We can talk all about that, but first, tea." You watch me leave and when you're sure I'm busy in the kitchen, you stand and begin looking around. The living room is tiny, the door to the kitchen behind you, and in front of you are stairs leading up. A fireplace, bookshelf and chairs are the only things in the room. It takes just a quick glance at the book shelf and you know it's nothing but old irrelevant books and trinkets. But across the mantel of the fireplace are a number of framed photos. You start to examine them, an old picture of me on a fishing boat in a lake, a picture of what looks like a hike. Just as you're about to move on from the photos, you see it. You wipe the sweat from your hands and palms against your jeans and pick up the photo. Him. Three girls. Your stomach drops as you look at the girl in the middle. Her midriff showing. Hello Kitty tattoo. "Tea's ready." The photo falls back to the mantel as you jump and turn to see me standing in the kitchen doorway holding a tray of tea and biscuits. "What is this?" You pick the photo back up and thrust it towards my face, but you stumble forward, sluggishness hitting you all at once from no where. "What... what is this?" You repeat with a groan. "It's the good stuff." The smile back on my face. This time, no mystery behind it, you can read it clear as day. Sinister. "Good stuff?" You giggle, your hand on your head as you try and steady yourself. "Weed. It's strong is it not?" I reply. "Nothing like a nice hotbox for a rainy night." You look up at the ceiling, still hazy with smoke and watch it as it drifts about this way and that. More groans in the ceiling as a few low rhythmic thuds move across it. "You said you live here alone? Or..." Your hand shoots to your mouth, stifling a laugh. I only smile, and call out... not to you, behind you. To something deeper into the house. Something upstairs. "Tea's ready!" The low thuds suddenly get louder, faster, heavy, and they move across the ceiling towards the stairs. Fear shoots throughout your entire body, momentarily shaking off the haze and you reach into your coat for you gun. Whipping it out fast, too fast, it flies from your hands and into the far corner of the room. You almost don't realize what happened but the booming footsteps above are almost upon you and so you just run. Shoving past me you run into the kitchen and out the door to your car. Rain whipping at your face, in your eyes. Almost impossible to see, but you know your car is just there, right ahead. Digging your keys out of your pocket, you begin to smash the unlock button but lose your footing in the wet muddy ground. Landing hard, unable to move, your car headlights flash a few feet away from you. Close. So close. You can't help but laugh as the heavy footsteps behind you get louder and louder.