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forever-rogue · 3 years

Text

Worship

Summary | Sex with Bucky comes in a variety of flavors, but sometimes it's all about the connection and intimacy.

Pairing | Bucky x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 3.6k

Warnings | language, smut - oral (f receiving), piv, body worship - 18+ only, minors DNI

Masterlists | Bucky, Main

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Hey Sugar,” Bucky’s voice was low and raspy as soon as he walked in through the door and dropped his bag onto the floor. He spotted you on the couch, working on something on your laptop as you had something mindless playing in the background. Bucky felt lighter than he had in days as you gave him the sweetest smile before slamming your laptop shut, tossing it to the side, and running over to him.

“Bub!” you threw your arms around his neck before jumping in his arms. Bucky picked you up with almost no effort and spun you around as you buried your face into his neck. He slowly set you down before grinning at you and cradling your face in his hands and pulling you in for a slow, gentle kiss, “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” he whispered as his hands found your waist and he just watched you, grounding himself in your presence. you reached up and put your hand on his face, swiping your thumb over his cheek as you studied him. His ocean eyes softened as he was once again reminded of how much he loved you, “nothing’s better than getting to come home to you.”

“What about coming home to me and fresh baked chocolate chip cookies?” you raised an eyebrow as he immediately turned to go and look into the kitchen. He spied the foil covered plate as you just laughed at him, “welcome home, James. I love you.”

“I love you,” he whispered as he stole another saccharine kiss from your lips, “you are so beautiful.”

“You’re not too bad yourself, Sarge,” you playfully swatted his chest, feeling a flush of warmth well up in your cheeks, “don’t look at me like that, James.”

“Let me make love to you,” he asked as he ran a hand down your spine, letting it rest just above the curve of your bum, “let me show you how much I love you.”

“James,” his name got caught in your throat as you just nodded before looking at him with wide, innocent eyes, “please.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Bucky crashed his lips onto yours, soft and gentle, but still hungry and needy at the same time. He cradled the back of your head as he held you close to him, his lips never leaving yours as you both grew breathless. Once you were dizzied from his touch, practically drunk from his taste, he rested his forehead against yours before scooping you up in his arms and carrying you towards the bedroom.

He opened the door slowly and laid you gently on the big bed, on top of the soft duvet. You sighed wistfully as you laid against the soft pillows and watched him closely. He had literally just gotten home and he was already thinking of you and only you. What a man.

Tugging at the hem of his tight black t-shirt, Bucky quickly pulled it off and tossed it to the side, allowing you to freely stare at him. You bit your lip to hold back any sounds as you watched him repeat the process with his jeans, leaving him in only his tight boxer-briefs. How was anyone allowed to be this handsome?

“I know what you’re thinking, sugar,” he whispered softly as you stuck your tongue out at him, “but tonight is about you. Let me love you.”

Before you could respond, he sat at the foot of the bed, next to your still clothed body. A large hand rested on your calf, as stroked his thumb over the soft fabric of your pajama pants. His eyes never left yours as he leaned over and pressed soft kisses to your leg. It was just such a small, but intimate gesture that caused a shiver to run up your spine.

“James,” you swallowed the lump in your throat as he watched you like you had hung the moon and stars. He’d looked at you that same way from the day he’d met you until now. This man was whipped for you.

“I like these,” he pulled at the drawstring of your silly little cartoon Star Wars pants as your breath hitched in your throat, “but I think they’d look even better off. May I?”

“Yes,” you lifted your bum ever so slightly to assist him in pulling them off. His touch was gentle and feather-light as he tugged the pants off your legs and tossed them onto the floor along with his clothes. The situation was almost laughable; he’d come home while you were in silly pajama bottoms, old granny panties, and maybe the rattiest t-shirt you had but he was still looking at you as though you were the personification of beauty itself.

“You’re thinking much too loudly,” he whispered as a hand rested on your hip, rubbing gentle circles on your soft skin, “despite what you’re thinking and no matter what you’re wearing, you are still the most beautiful thing in this world. “

He played with the waistband of your panties, eyes seeking yours for permission to pull them down, which you easily granted. They quickly joined the growing pile as you watched him with a sweet smile. Bucky pushed your legs apart lightly, settling in between them as he ran his hands, one soft and warm and one cool and firm up and down your skin. He was taking you in, reminding himself of how soft and gentle you were, how opposite of him. You were so soft, and delicate, essentially at his mercy but you trusted him completely - loved him. It was still something that shocked him to no end.

Slowly bending over, he trailed a line of kisses up your legs, alternating between left and right before stopping just before reaching the apex of our thighs. He grinned at you before pressing a kiss to your hips and pushing up your t-shirt. You could help the small giggle that escaped your lips as he wiggled his eyebrows at you before you leaned up and let him peel the shirt from your frame. Bucky pulled you towards his face and slowly kissed you, a deep, passionate thing as he licked your lips to gain access to your mouth. You moaned into his mouth as you gave him access and let him take control. Like most things, Bucky did everything thoroughly and kissing you was no exception.

Even after all the time you had been together, it was enough to make your toes curl and butterflies erupt in your stomach as you memorized every touch, taste, and feel. It was like you were still falling in love with him all over again every single day.

“James,” his name was like a sacred whisper flowing from your lips as you laid back down and let him loom over you. He lifted his vibranium hand, hesitating for just a moment before you nodded lightly, taking his hand and placing it on your cheek. Bucky’s heart felt like it was fit to burst with the trust you put in him; you’d never once hesitated or showed any signs of fear when it came to black and gold metal arm. You’d loved on it and him, many times before, reminding him that it was nothing to be ashamed or scared of, it was just a part of him.

“Look at you,” he whispered as stroked your cheek as you just keened into his touch, “my girl. You are all the best parts of me.”

“And you are my everything,” you pressed a kiss to the palm of his hand before sighing contentedly. He leaned down and kissed your lips before slowly moving to your jaw and down your neck before stopping at your collarbones. He nuzzled his nose against your skin, inhaling your warm scent before you felt him smile. He swiped his nose against your pulse point before lightly nipping at tender skin and pressing kisses to both of your shoulders, “such a tease!”

“No,” he promised, “I’m just taking my sweet time with you, sugar.”

“Mhmm,” you bit back a delicate moan as his mouth found your breast, his tongue swirling around your nipple as you arched into his touch. His other hand massaged your other breast as you reached for his free hand, lacing your fingers together. Bucky took his sweet time, lavishing attention to both breasts, leaving you breathless and aching for his touch between your legs.

Bucky made sure to leave plenty of gentle love-bites across your skin that would color you in constellations of purples and pinks for days. Everyone would know you were his, and you would probably display them as you normally did.

He lifted your arm and trailed his lips from your wrist to your shoulder, mapping out each little mark, freckle, and scar with love from his lips. Your eyes fluttered closed as you let his touch overwhelm your senses and drown you in love. It was quiet, with the only sounds being the soft evening breeze rustling the curtains and the sound of your soft moans followed by his lips mapping out your skin.

His soft touch stopped at your shoulder before he proceeded the same on your other arm. There was something so gentle and intimate about this; the silence but sweetness of him loving on every part of you. Sex with Bucky was always good, in whatever flavor it came in. Some days it was rough and needy, fast and hard, and some days it was gentle and sweet. But there were the days when it was just so slow and loving - it wasn’t about the end result or finishing at all even, it was all about the love and affection you held for one another. There was nothing but the need to be together, holding each other closely. Some days that was enough more than enough. There were a lot of things in the world that left you confused and doubtful, but the one thing you never doubted was Bucky’s love or devotion to you.

“I love you,” he trailed his soft, plush lips across your collarbones before stopping at the hollow of your throat, “my sweetest girl. Light of my life.”

“Silly man,” you giggled as you pulled him up for a kiss to your lips, carding a hand through his dark locks as you lightly scratched at his scalp, “I love you more than life itself.”

“I know that despite all the horrible things I was forced to do, I did something right,” he brushed the hair away from your face and smiled at you, “I did something right - I got you.”

Your mouth opened slightly as you looked at him in pure awe. Even after all this time, this man still made you feel like nothing else in this world mattered besides you. Before you could even attempt to rebut his declaration, he gently straddled your waist as he sat back and admired you.

His eyes were dark with list, but not of the animalistic kind, but the yearning, gentle kind. He was surprisingly light for a man of his size and stature and his touch feather light as he ghosted his fingers over your body.

"Beautiful," he whispered more to himself than anything else as he lavished your ribs and tummy with more love. You swore that his plush lips grazed over every inch of your skin. It was the best feeling you could ever imagine and you wished you could spend an eternity like this, “I wish you could see yourself the way I do.”

“And what about you?” you replied softly as you touched his cheek, “my love.”

His large hands gripped your hips before he sat back on his haunches and looked at you for permission to continue. You gave him a soft nod before he slotted himself between your thighs as he tenderly massaged your soft flesh. Slowly bringing his warm hand between your legs, he dragged a finger through your already soaked folds, listening to the way your breathing changed with each little touch. Bucky was being slow and deliberate with each movement, wanting to make this feel as good as possible for you.

His deft finger circled your sensitive bud, encouraging you to let our moans be heard, to never hold back how you were feeling with him. Once you had slowly started to move your hips in time with his ministrations, he slipped a finger inside your entrance, causing you to gasp lightly in surprise. Bucky beamed at how responsive you were to his touch, whispering soft praise against your chest as he leaned down to kiss you. Only when he was sure you were ready did he add another finger in, curling them both perfectly to just hit your spot. You were biting down on your lip to keep from crying out at the feeling but he just nuzzled his nose against your neck, “c’mon baby, let me hear you. Want to hear all your pretty little sounds.”

You let go as he kissed along your neck, leaving soft little hickies for the world to see. He adored you; the way your mouth fell open in a small little o and your eyes were half lidded as you looked back at him. You were so fucked out and he’s barely touched you.

“Can I taste you?” he asked as he slowly pulled his hand away from your cunt, leaving you to whimper at the loss of feeling his fingers. He reached for your hand with his vibranium one and entwined your fingers together, bringing them to rest above his heart so you feel its steady rhythm. He let it rest there for a few moments as you let the strong beat ground you in reality before he pressed a small kiss to each finger. You watched him in awe as he settled himself between your legs, and you could already feel his warm breath fanning over your dripping cunt.

He wasted no time in diving in, licking a stripe up your wet folds and lapping up all of your juices. His hands had slipped under your backside and were delicately massaging your bum as he ate you like a man starving. The man was talented with his fingers but with just his mouth, he was able to perform pure magic. He alternated between liking and sucking at your sensitive clit, making you card a hand through his dark hair as you moaned his name. You could feel smirking against you as his tongue dived into your entrance, causing your eyes to almost roll back in your head.

You reached down and pressed his face against you, wanting to feel all of him at once as the tight coil in your belly continued to grow and grow. He stopped for a moment, resting his head on your thigh as he watched you with soft lidded eyes. You looked so beautiful as you slowly came undone. You opened your eyes and stuck your tongue out at him before the two of you burst into a fit of laughter. You’d known, for a long time really, that what you had with Bucky was real and true when you’d have moments of silliness during such intimate moments.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he breathed softly before trailing wet kisses to the inside of your thigh and on your mound. You made a small sound of content as he ghosted his mouth over your cunt, offering you a few more wet, sloppy kisses to where you needed him most.

“And you’re so good at that,” you put your hand on the back of his neck as you pulled up towards your face. His lips and stubble were glistening with your slick, the sweet nectar that he could never seem to get enough of. You pulled him down and offered him sloppy, needy kisses of your own, savoring the taste of yourself on his tongue, “I want to feel you, James. Want you to come with me.”

“You sure?”

“Mhmm,” you wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled down to your aching cunt, grinding your hips against his hardness. He groaned, the sound seeping deep into your soul at the friction his body was craving, “want you to feel good too, baby.”

“Always thinkin’ of me,” he hastily reached down and discarded his boxers, leaving you both finally naked and grinning at each other.

“Of course,” reaching between your warm bodies, you pumped his hard, weeping cock a few times before lining him up at your entrance, “I happen to love you, silly man.”

“I love you,” he whispered as he pushed all the way in, stopping only when he bottomed out. It took a moment to get used to the familiar stretch before you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down against your body. A small whimper left your lips as he started to move slowly, neither of you in a hurry to finish. He buried his face in the crook of your neck as he whispered gentle words against your skin, words meant more for himself than anything else as he felt your walls start to clamp tighter around him with each roll of his hips. You met him move for move as you let him make love to you.

“James,” you whispered softly in his ear as you turned his face towards yours as you kissed him deeply. You felt his cock twitch as you just grinned at him between kisses. You would have done anything to see that smile; it was beautiful and his eyes were soft as he watched you closely, “let go for me, baby. You’ve been so good to me - come on.”

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” his movements started to stutter slightly as his own bliss started to wash over him. The lazy little half smile on your face was enough to make his heart stutter; he was so in love with you, just as you were with him, “you comin’ with me?”

“Always,” you promised softly as your whole body warmed up and you left your release wash over you. Your velvet walls hugged him so tightly that he couldn’t help but come as well, spilling inside you as he moaned into your mouth, “James.”

His hips moved slowly against yours as he worked you both through your orgasms, wanting to relish in the feel of you for as long as he could. He wanted every inch of your skin touching his skin; to him there was almost no better feeling.

Once he tried to move off of you, you shook your head and made a small nuh uh sound and snaked your arms around his middle, holding him tightly against your body. You both laughed as he kissed your cheek before effortlessly rolling onto his back and pulling you on top of him so he couldn’t crush you. Laying down on top of him, resting your head on his chest as you played absentmindedly with the dog tags he always wore, bringing the cool metal to your lips and kissing them. His heart fluttered at the small, but intimate gesture.

“You’re going to have to move, sugar,” he whispered as you pouted at him, “lemme clean you up and then I’m all yours.”

“Hurry,” you teased as he slowly pulled out of you, causing you to whine at the loss of him. He quickly came back with a warm washcloth and cleaned the mess between your legs and his before quickly getting back into bed.

“Always take such good care of me,” you threw the blanket over him as you curled up around him, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’ll never have to worry about that,” he promised softly as you peppered feather-light kisses of your own against his chest, finding each little freckle and showing it affection. He grinned at your actions before you straddled his waist and looked down at him. You were like heaven above him, looking down and casting him in your light, “you must be an angel.”

“And you must be a fool.”

“A fool for you,” you threw your head back in laughter at his little joke as his hands found purchase on your waist.

“James - Bucky,” you laid back on top of him, making it so you could hear his heart beating in your ear. You took his hand, placing your palm against his as you look at the difference in size before slotting your fingers through his. You studied the black and gold vibranium of his arm before ghosting your lips over where flesh met metal. You knew that some days it still caused him pause when he looked at himself, but you’d never once hesitated to touch him or showed any fear towards him, “you are my everything. I love you more than all the moon and stars and then some more.”

“I love you too, sugar,” he wasn’t sure if he’d ever left more calm or relaxed than in that moment. His whole world was right there, on top of him, in his arms. He couldn’t have asked for anything better, “rest now. The world can wait.”

“Promise me something?”

“Anything.”

“We’ll always have each other - this?”

“Always.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

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#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you

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sourholland · 3 years

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Mother’s Day || Harry Styles

in honor of this mother’s day, i wanted to write a little something in spirit :) a little dad!harry seemed to suffice

happy mother’s day to all of the moms, sisters/siblings that are like moms, moms to be, moms trying for a baby, moms who have lost a baby, and dads who are both mom and dad <3

“Quiet, Lulu.”

Harry had your four year old on his hip, a tray in his hand, and Lucie holding his phone while shakily recording.

The creak of the door made you stir, almost opening your eyes when he set the food down and sat on the corner of the bed. Lucie climbed up next to you, squeezing herself underneath the covers where Harry had previously resided.

“Mummy! Wake up, mummy,” she whispered in your ear.

Harry couldn’t help laughing at her eagerness to get you out of bed, placing his hand on your waist and giving you a light shake. You turned over a minute, pulling Lucie into your arms, feeling her nuzzle into your chest. You wrapped a leg around her tiny body, flinching at her freezing feet.

“Lucie, what happened to your socks?” You groggily chuckled, letting her pepper soft kisses on your cheeks.

“I dunno.”

The window was cracked open, a soft breeze coming through the room. The thick duvet shielded you from this, but you assumed it was the reason she was like ice. Her little hand cupped your cheek, grinning impossibly wide.

“Happy Mother’s Day, love,” Harry smiled, leaning in to kiss you himself.

He pulled out the small tray, on it sat chocolate chip pancakes and strawberries. He even made a smiley face out of the little pieces of chocolate. Beside the plate was a homemade card, it was colored thoroughly with lots of different shades of pink, purple, and blue.

“I drew it, see—on the front is me, you, and daddy. There’s Josie, right there,” she pointed to the dog. “And daddy wrote what I wanted to say.”

You reopened the card, looking at the scribbles and reading the small blurb in light purple crayon:

Dear Mummy,

I love you more than anything in the entire world. You are the best mum I could ever ask for and I hope you like my drawings.

Love,

Lulu

You couldn’t help wiping away a few stray tears when you closed the paper, cursing yourself for being such a sap. You knew these things were irreplaceable, and that you’d want them all when you and Harry got old and senile. You kissed Lucie, telling her how much you loved and appreciated it.

Harry then handed you his gift, or part of his gift as he claimed. One part of it was a card, inside he inscribed a long message. The other bit was a scrapbook filled up with pictures from before, when you both began dating, leading up to now, the most recent little photograph he’d taken was of you and Lucie messing around in the studio. They all held sweet little messages beside each captured moment, some just a few words, others quotes he adored.

If you hadn’t been crying before, you definitely were now. Once you got to the photographs of Lucie’s birth, you were an absolute emotional wreck. There was a tiny little Polaroid slipped in, it was of Harry squeezed in the hospital bed beside you. She was in your arms, curled up against your chest, and Harry was looking down at her with tears streaming down his cheeks as he rubbed his eyes.

You could recall his words in that moment perfectly, “this is the best day of my life.”

Lucie moved her little fingers underneath your swollen eyes, pushing away the tears and holding your hand. Her head laid on your shoulder, and Harry’s hand gripped tightly in yours. Some moments you remember forever, and this felt like one of those.

“Don’t cry, love,” he cooed.

“How couldn’t I?” You sniffled, pulling his hand up to your lips and kissing it.

You could see one of the tattoos he’d gotten in dedication to Lucie on his forearm, it was ‘I love you, daddy’ in her handwriting, she’d sent it to him while he was on tour in a letter and he immediately got it inked on permanently. This reminded you of what you were waiting until tonight to tell Harry, reaching your hand out and brushing your fingers along the words made you rethink that.

“H,” you murmured.

“Hmm?”

“I’m pregnant,” you told him suddenly, a smile spreading across your face so wide your cheeks had begun to ache.

He sat up immediately, eyes wide and mouth agape. There was a flash of excitement, met with something like shock and curiosity. You hadn’t been trying necessarily, but you also hadn’t really been preventing. With a cheeky grin, he climbed further onto the bed and gave you a pointed look.

“Are you really?” He asked giddily, to which you nodded.

“I found out two days ago, I was going to wait until dinner tonight—”

“You’re pregnant!” He practically cheered, lifting Lucie up and kissing all over her cheeks.

Lucie wasn’t sure what this meant, but relished in the attention. She jumped on the bed while he attacked her with tickles and cuddles, leaning over to you when she fell over laughing and pressing a long, hard kiss on your lips. This made you smile, cupping the side of his face and leaning your forehead against his.

“You know what this means, Lulu?” He asked, pushing her hair out of her face. “Means we’re gon’ have another baby.”

#harry #harry styles au #harry styles blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles x y/n #dad!harry #elle’s fics #a little something

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melancholymetropolis · 3 years

Text

Cloud Nine

Pairings: Roommate! Hitoshi Shinso x Reader

Summary: The reader gets stood up and Shinso decides to make it up to her.

Warnings: Explicit Content. Porn with Plot. Slightly edited. Based off of this cover. All characters are aged up.

Author's Note: Hello to all! I have missed you guys. It's been a while. Finals have been kicking my ass but, I am back! This fic is a good blend of fluff and smut. Maybe a little bit of angst. If you would like to commission me, click here! I set a new goal, so please check it! Thanks for your support, it means a lot to me.

Word Count: 4500

The sound of the front door slamming shut resonated through the apartment, quickly followed by the echo of heavy footsteps trailing down the hall. They came to an abrupt pause; interrupted by the splashing of water in the sink and the ripping of a paper towel. He must’ve found the freshly baked cookies I left on the counter. The footsteps sound again but they stop short of my room. A firm knock rattled from my door; I looked up from my laptop and shouted “come in!” My roommate opened the door, appearing in front of me, dressed in his usual attire. Workout jacket and running shorts with a gym bag tossed over his shoulder. Shinso had already taken a bite out of the freshly baked cookie nestled in the paper, and tiny crumbs had been sprinkled around his mouth.

“You’re home earlier than I expected,” he said as he dropped his gym bag by my door and took a seat in my desk chair. “I thought you had a date with that producer guy.”

“Yeah, I did,” I closed my laptop and pushed it to the side. “But, he never showed.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Shinso said before taking another bite of his cookie. He chewed it slowly before adding, “I had a feeling something was wrong since you baked.”

“I don’t only bake when I’m sad, So-so,” I replied as I rubbed the back of my neck.

“You’re right,” he took another bite of the cookie and swallowed. “You only make your comfort cookies when you’re sad.”

I gave him a quizzical look and he took it as an initiative to continue.

“When you’re sad or have a bad day, you always make double chocolate cookies with walnuts. And if you’re peeved, you add Nutella in the middle. Like today. So, if you don’t mind telling me what’s wrong, I’d be happy to listen.” Shinso finished off his cookie and brushed his mouth with the paper towel. His purple eyes gleaming up at me with concern.

“It’s just. . .” I crossed my legs underneath me and sighed. All the built-up frustration exploded out of me in three words, “Men are trash.”

Shinso’s face remained completely neutral; he didn’t even flinch at the statement. “How so?”

I groaned and dropped my head into my hands. “Okay, so last week, remember when I was wearing that super-cute outfit?”

“You gotta be more specific, you always wear cute outfits,” he said with a confused look in his eye.

“It was a Tuesday. I was wearing some bell-bottom jeans and a pink halter top that said ‘cherry bomb’. Do you remember that?”

“You had two buns on your head that day,” he added in recollection.

“I did! Well, I bumped into Justin on my way to the studio and we talked for a few minutes. Towards the end of the conversation, he gave me his number and asked me to dinner. I was ecstatic and practically skipped down the fucking street!”

“Sounds like something you’d do.”

“So, we’ve been texting all of last week and this week. I am under the illusion that we’re on for dinner. All of a sudden, he doesn’t reply to my texts this morning. I brushed it off and continued about my day. I went to the agreed restaurant and waited an hour in my car for him. Texting him the entire time, just for him to give me a reply on my ride home.”

“What did it say?”

“‘Sorry, something came up.’”

“Wow. . . what an asshole.”

“I know! Such a fucking jerk.”

We stayed silent for a minute or two before Shinso rose from my desk chair and walked to my door. He grabbed his gym bag from the floor and turned back to me. “I ordered from that restaurant you like, down the street, once I saw the cookies on the counter. I figured you could use some comfort food. It’ll be here in a little while, so I’m going to take a quick shower, then we could eat together. If you’re cool with that?”

“Sure, that’s fine. I’ll see you when you get out,” I replied with a look of astonishment on my face.

“Okay, see you in a bit.”

The pro-hero exited the room and gently closed the door behind him. My eyes remained in that general area, seconds after he left. Processing all the information that he gave to me. Wakatoshi Shinso. . . a man that I cannot describe in words. But, if I had to condense it, to say what he was, all I could say is that he cares. So much about me. Before moving in together, he was simply a friend-of-a-friend. We were cordial, always said “hi” in passing, and never left a bad impression. So, when I found an apartment, and he needed a room, it was a no-brainer. Shinso was the ideal roommate. Quiet, calm, and collected. He always made me breakfast, even though he was always up significantly earlier than I was. If I was too tired, he’d tidy up my leftover dishes and straighten up my things. When I had my period and ran out of pads, he went to the drug store and bought me some. Including chocolate ice cream and painkillers. He doesn’t mind doing the grocery shopping alone and doesn’t complain when I leave my bra on the bathroom door. He wiped my tears when my boyfriend left me and brought me flowers the next day.

Shinso was perfect in every way.

I was lucky to have him in my life.

The doorbell rang and I rose from my bed and raced to the door. Just as he said, Shinso had ordered from my favorite restaurant, as seen by the menu poking out of the biggest bag. I gave the delivery boy a small smile and thanked him, before shutting the door and walking into the kitchen. I placed the takeout bag on the counter and began to take out all the items from the bag. He brought chicken parmesan, mushroom ravioli, fettuccine alfredo, vodka alla penne, and two garden salads. In the second, smaller bag, were two pints of ice cream and complimentary miniature cannolis.

“I didn’t know what you were in the mood for so I got a little bit of everything,” his voice echoed throughout the room, causing me to jump.

“Jesus—” I looked up from the array of food to my roommate. Who was dripping wet and practically steaming from his shower. Grey sweatpants hung dangerously low on his hips, extenuating his sharp v-line. He was shirtless, which wasn’t something new, he often walked around the apartment that way; however, the droplets sprinkled about his bare chest were doing things to me. His damp hair was slicked back, combed out of his face. Shinso walked around the kitchen’s island and popped open the lid off one of the containers. The display of his bruised knuckles resting on the counter caused my insides to churn.

Maybe it was the way Justin ghosted me earlier, or maybe it was the way Shinso cared for me— the longer I looked at him, the more I wanted him to bend me over the sink and make me scream.

An intense blush flushed over my face and I instinctively bit my bottom lip.

Without missing a beat, my roommate placed his hand on mine and locked eyes with me. “Is there something wrong?”

“I. . . ugh. . .” I looked away from him and down at the ground. “I’m fine.”

I could feel his violet-purple eyes squint with uncertainty. Shinso gently squeezed my hand and released a sigh. “I was thinking about what you said about ‘men being trash’ and how Justin was an asshole to you.”

“Yeah?”

“Maybe you're looking in the wrong place."

I looked up at his face, taking in his flushed-out expression. Although his wet hair gave him a more refined aura. His cheeks highlighted his boyish charm. Shinso's hand lifted from mine and found itself underneath my chin. My eyes automatically snapped toward his and my breath got caught in my throat. He had an unwavering stare upon his face that made me weak in the knees. Shinso’s eyes slowly closed and brought his face closer to mine. I gripped his shirt and pressed a kiss firmly against his lips. Every muscle in my body relaxed and I felt his arm securely wrapped around me. I moaned against his lips and loosened my grip on his shirt. I dug my fingers in his hair and pressed my body against his.

“I want you,” he groaned against my lips.

“Then, take me,” I replied as I untied his sweatpants. And kissed him again.

Shinso tore away and guided me to the couch. He gazed down at me, a questionable look in his eye. “Are you sure?”

I lifted the oversized tee-shirt over my head and tossed it to the side, My chest was completely bare, my ample breasts in the view of the towering athlete. “I’m all yours.”

Shinso’s eyes darkened. His demeanor was intense and serious. He wrapped his arms around me and lifted my legs to his waist. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear,” he grunted before capturing my lips in a kiss.

I wrapped my arms around his neck. My bare chest against his; my heartbeat in my ears and his body heat warming my soul. I wanted to be as close to him as I possibly could. I needed to be closer to him than I ever was before. “Take me to your room.”

Without hesitation, the pro-hero took long paces to his vacant space. He gently sat me on the edge of the bed and look down at me. “Open your legs.”

I scooted my by rear further on the bed and placed both feet on the neatly tucked duvet. My knees were facing the ceiling and my clothed womanhood was facing him.

Shinso swiftly dropped to his knees and brought his face to my inner thigh. Featherlike kisses sprinkled along the soft tissue and goosebumps ran up my back. When he got to my core, after taking his sweet time, he pushed the soft short and panties to the side before lapping the dripping center. My legs gently twitched and my eyes rolled back. His soft muscle continued to lap its sweet nectar and I swore I could see God Himself. After a short while, he had gotten bored of pushing my garments to the side, so Shinso tenderly removed them from my legs. I halfway expected him to rip them to shreds but I guess he was too gentlemanly for such savage behavior.

The athlete looked up at me with a wistful expression and asked a simple question. “Do you mind if I use my fingers?”

I paused for a minute and smiled. “Come here.”

Temporarily rising from his position on the floor, the massive man laid his body between my legs and hovered his face above mine. “Yes?”

“You use whatever you see fit,” I replied while looking into his eyes. “I trust you.”

Without so much as a second glance, Shinso walks to his nightstand and unlocks the bottom drawer. He pulls out a Hitachi wand, an eye mask, and bondage cuffs. “Are you comfortable with these?”

A blush dusted my cheeks as I looked at the items. “Oh my, I never knew this side of you existed.” I reached for the eye mask and placed it on my head. Then, I lifted my arms over my head and gripped the bedpost. I winked and finally said, “I’m ready when you are.”

Shinso turned to the top drawer of the nightstand and pulled out a condom. “I should’ve confessed sooner.”

I nodded with appropriate enthusiasm and widened my legs. “Please continue what you had been doing earlier. I want you.”

The athlete reached down to my face and pulled the eye mask over my eyes. “Anything for you, sweetheart.”

His feather-like touches littered against the right side of my body and I swore I could feel my senses come alive. I felt the bed sink in between my legs and his warm hands reposition my hips on the bed. “Hold your legs up for me, baby.”

I did as instructed and took a deep breath.

I could feel his hot breath fan my naked cunt and all I could do was drip in anticipation. His coarse thumbs spread the thick lips apart; cool air fanned my bud. After a few seconds of no movement, his hot mouth pressed against the dripping mess. A long, deep moan arose from me, as my legs jolted again. He blew against my womanhood, creating a slurry of my nectar and his saliva. I could feel it drip down my cunt and to my rear slowly. Seductively almost. His soft tongue pushed its way into my smooth center and I felt my walls clench. He bobbed his head forward and back; probing me with his tongue as he went. I furrowed my brows and arched my back. Gripping the back of my knees, I bucked my hips against his mouth as slutty moans left my lips.

“Mmm. . . you feel so good, So-so,” I chanted as I whipped my head to the side.

He groaned against my womanhood, before pulling away briefly. He reached up the bed and gripped his desired item. Once I heard a distinctive buzzing, I knew it was the wand. He pressed the toy against my bud, possibly wanting to see my reaction to it. I moaned at the light vibrations and squirmed underneath it. A hum passed his lips as I felt his fingers gently toy with my entrance. One finger slowly went in, curling upward to the desired pleasure button. Shinso used that finger for about a minute before adding a second one. He presses his fingertips against the roof of my cunny and started to jab them upward. I bit my lip and dug my nails into my thighs at the added friction. I could feel a soft pool gather in my stomach and I knew my climax was near.

“Oh fuck! Oh, fuck!” I practically yelled as I gripped the sheets.

Shinso kept his same pace. I could imagine observing the incoming orgasm rise from my toes down my calves and thighs and to my abdomen.

I furrowed my eyes again and brought my legs closer to my chest. “Oh fuck. Oh, fuck! Oh shit!” My legs shoot violently as my toes clenched tightly. My breathing increased and tingles encased my whole body. Then, all of a sudden, all the feelings in my body stopped. And all I could hear was the buzzing of the vibrator in my room. For those two seconds, every fiber of my being clenched, including my walls around Shinso’s fingers. I could feel tears form in my eyes as a throaty moan fell from my lips and my back arched against the bed. I released the grip on my legs and allowed them to shake chaotically against the mattress. I reached under my head for the pillow and squeezed it around my head as I rode out the pleasable wave.

When my legs stopped shaking and my breathing calmed down, I released the pillow and lifted my head. “So-so?”

“I’m here,” he swiftly replied before removing the eye mask from my face. Shinso looked at me with a loving expression and placed a hand on my cheek. “Are you okay? That seemed pretty intense.”

“It was,” I replied looking at him with doe eyes. “Can you just. . . hold me for a while? I don’t think I’m ready to continue.”

“Of course.” He climbed into the bed and wrapped his arms around me. His violet eyes gazed down at me with such repertoire that it was almost impossible to keep contact.

“Is there something wrong?” I asked feeling so insecure.

“No, I just. . .” Shinso cut himself off. Somehow trying to find the right thing to say at that moment. He pulled my body closer to his before pressing his lips to my forehead and saying “ I love you.”

I froze. My breath caught in my throat. My heartbeat pausing its usual rhythm. My mind was completely cleared of any passing thought. “How. . . long have you known?”

“Not too long. About a few minutes.”

“Wait,” I pulled away from him and sat up in the bed. “What do you mean ‘a few minutes’?”

Shinso took a deep breath and followed my motions. “I realized I loved you when you told me you trusted me and proceeded to relinquish control. I had never seen you so vulnerable with anyone and we have known each other for five years. It meant a lot to me and everything else just. . . clicked in my brain.”

“So, all the ordering food and tampons. . . you didn’t do that to get me to put my guard down? You did it just because?”

“Well, yeah. I thought that’s what good roommates do. At least, that’s what Tendou says they do.”

“Wow. . . I. . . need a minute to digest. . . all of this.”

“Take your time.”

I spent the next few days hovering about our shared apartment. Replaying those three tiny, tiny words in my mind. I love you. He loved me. Shinso loved me. He didn’t do all those nice things because he wanted to use me or my body for his pleasure. He did it because he wanted to be a good roommate. Shinso wasn’t the type of man to say things he didn’t mean— hell, he doesn’t even speak the majority of the time. He meant what he said. And I couldn’t gather my thoughts to see how I felt about him. I knew what he meant to me. I knew I didn’t see myself living with anyone else and the thought of him being with another woman infuriated me. After a short while, I picked up a pen and grabbed my keyboard to write a song.

Justin found time to text me again; notifying me that he wanted to make up for our failed date by giving a free studio session. Being the starving artist that I was, I took up the offer. On a whim, I texted Shinso to meet at the studio, half expecting him to decline my answer. He didn’t. Shinso walked into the small room, still in his volleyball uniform. His violet eyes brightened when I smiled at him. He gave me a small smirk and a short wave.

Justin, completely taken back by the massive player, gawked at Shinso’s sheer size. “Damn, how tall are you?”

“Six foot four inches,” Shinso stated in a bland expression.

“Wow,” Justin turned away from the athlete and back to me. “I’m ready when you are.”

I took a deep breath, readjusted my keyboard, and looked ahead. “I’m ready.”

I started playing the keys and looking down at the lyrics on my notebook page.

I don’t want to seem the way I do

But I’m confident when I’m with you

I looked up at Shinso with a weak smile.

Lately, all I feel is bad and bruised

Tired of tripping on my shoes

I squeezed my eyes shut and finished the rest of the course.

But when he loves me I

Feel like I’m floating, when

He calls me pretty, I

Feel like somebody.

Even when we fade,

Eventually to nothing,

You will always be my favorite form of loving.

I opened my eyes and looked up at Shinso. His cheeks were a slight pink and his eyes were slightly closed. He seemed somewhat embarrassed by the lyrics, yet really into them.

I finished the lyrics, making sure I kept eye contact with him for the entirety of the song. I watched his shoulders relax, and jaw clench at the sound of the lyrics. He leaned forward as if to hear me better. Shinso’s boyish charm was completely exposed and I was loving every second of it.

When the song ended, Justin stood up and clapped from the other end of the glass. He clicked a button and shouted for me to come out.

“You were so good!” He practically shouted to the top of his lungs. “I should’ve gotten you here sooner.”

“I’ve been trying to tell you,” I said with a chuckle.

“Please tell me you’re free this Friday, there’s someone I want you to meet,” Justin gave me a hopeful look.

“Actually— “

“She has plans with me this Friday,” Shinso chimed harshly.

Justin looked between the two of us and simply nodded. “I totally get it. Shoot me a text when you are free though. We should talk business.”

“Of course!” I replied with a smile.

Shinso and I trotted out of the studio shortly after the exchange. He remained silent within the elevator of the building. Inside the cab home. And, as we walked through the front door. It was after he retreated into his room and took a shower when he finally spoke to me.

“Did you write that song for me?” Shinso asked after taking a seat in my desk chair.

“I did,” I answered simply.

“Does that mean you. . . share my feelings?” He proceeded to question me.

“Yes, I love you, Shinso,” I offered the response slowly.

He rose from my chair and sat across from me on my bed. “Tell me again.”

“I love you, Shinso.”

His lips captured mine in a heated kiss. His calloused hands pulled me closer to him as mine latched in his hair. I leaned back against the bed and spread my legs to give him more access. I moaned against his lips and moved my hips against his groin.

“Do you want to continue?” Shinso asked as pulled away. “We can always—”

“Hurry up and grab the condoms from the top drawer,” I interjected as I unhooked my arms to peel my shirt off.

Without a word, the athlete scooted from the bed and did as he was told. Shinso swiftly removed his sweats and tossed them to the side. He ripped the plastic packet open with his teeth and rolled the rubber on his member. He climbed back onto the bed proceeded to yank my bottoms off my body and spread my legs. Shinso positioned his member against my center and looked up at me. Once I gave him an eager nod, he sunk himself into me. A soul-shaking moan erupted from the two of us, followed by a curse underneath our breaths. He leaned down to give me a soft kiss before slowly rocking his hips against mine.

Gentle moans fell from my lips as I arched my back against his thrusts. “You feel so good, baby.” I brought my hands up my legs and navel; I latched my digits onto my ample breasts and gave them a slight squeeze.

Shinso readjusted my hips and lifted my legs in the air. His fingertips pressed firmly in the soft flesh of my thigh as he had begun to drop his hips down onto mine in such a harsh manner. My walls clenched around him, as I felt myself begin to ooze even more onto him. The new stimulation was making my whole body heat up and I desperately wanted more of it. I gripped the sheets tightly and gazed at his flushed-out face.

God, he looked so powerful fucking me like that. His muscles flexed with each thrust and sweat began dotting his abdomen. The pink hue on his cheeks and the clenching of his jaw made my insides tingle.

I was more attracted to this man than I could ever possibly know.

Suddenly, his pace started to slow down and his hips started to spasm. Just a tad. He was so close to his peak.

“You take me so well, sweetheart,” Shinso grunted lowly. “You’re tight cunt is milking me dry.”

I smirked. “Are you about to cum?”

His violet eyes narrowed and he paused his thrusts. “On your belly, now.”

“Yes, sir,” I teased as I rolled onto my stomach. Chest pressed against the bed and hips in the air.

The athlete gripped my hips as he eased his member back into me. “Rub that needy clit of yours, nice and slow.”

I tucked a hand between my legs and flicked my fingers softly. A small moan fell from my lips as my hips began to twitch slightly.

“Looks like you’re not gonna last too long, baby,” I could hear the smirk in his voice.

“Of course not, you know how to make me cum,” I said with a giggle.

“I am the only one that will be doing that from this point on, understood?” His gripped tightened around my waist and I could feel his hips begin to twitch slightly.

“Understood,” I grunted as I felt the warm pool fill in my stomach. “I’m getting close, baby.”

“Move your hand faster,” Shinso instructed while keeping his pace.

I flicked my wrist faster and immediately felt the climax rising my legs and thighs and gathering at my stomach. I clenched and released my walls several times before releasing a gurgle-like moan. “Ahh fuck. Ahh, fuck!”

“You better not stop moving your hand, princess,” he warned in a low tone.

“I’m not! I promise!” I squeezed my eyes shut and bit my lip. “Please let me cum! I wanna cum so bad! Oh, God!”

“Go ahead, you deserve it,” he grunted as he began to move his hips faster.

“Oh fuck!” I gripped the sheets tightly and moved my hand even faster. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop!”

I clenched my walls ever so tightly and squeezed my eyes shut. In the pit of my stomach, I felt a soft soap bubble pop and ooze out to the rest of my body. My entire body clenched, and my hand pressed hard against my clit as I rode out the orgasm. My eyes rolled to the back of my head and my tongue fell out of my mouth. Drool dripped down my chin as the stars behind my eyelids faded. After a few seconds, I slumped forward onto the bed and opened my eyes.

“Oh fuck. . .” I gurgled as my body finished twitching.

Shinso slid out of my smooth canal and kissed down my sweaty back before laying next to me. He gathered me into his arms and looked down at my overly stimulated body. “Promise me you’ll be mine and only mine.”

With half-closed lids, I looked up at him and said, “You buy me food when I’m sad, you get me tampons when I’m bleeding, AND you made me cum so hard I almost blacked out. There’s no way in hell I’m letting you be with someone else.”

He chuckled. “I love you.”

“You better, because you can’t get rid of me. I’m in too deep,” I replied as I snuggled closer to him. After a short moment of silence, I said “I love you, too.”

379 notes · View notes

velvetcloxds · 3 years

Text

LEAVE ME BREATHLESS| D.H.

Pairing: Derek x fem! Reader

Word count: 2135 words

Warnings: none, just fluff

Summary: Reader attends her senior prom with her friends, however she can't really enjoy it as her boyfriend Derek is in Mexico searching for Kate, luckily though, Derek is full of surprises.

“Why aren’t you dressed?” Stiles asks in a rush as he comes into my room. His eyes scan the bed quickly as he sees my dress and shoes scattered onto the duvet. “We had to leave half an hour ago.” He informs me and he ignores the obvious frown on my face as he walks over to the bed to pick up the dress. I groan loudly as I wipe the rest of my makeup off, ignoring his dramatic gestures behind me.

“I’m not going, Stiles.” I tell him and he makes no trouble to hide his shock, his mouth opening to protests as he steps towards me, throwing the dress over his shoulder as he touches the back of my chair.

“I don’t understand that sentence,” He announces and spins my chair in the same breath. “I refuse to understand that sentence, considering the fact that you’re the one forcing us to go,” He pauses to drape the dress over my knees and smiles encouragingly. “Now, enough of the dramatics, get dressed.” I sigh.

“Stiles.” I groan and he ignores this, pulling me from the chair and softly pushing me into the bathroom with a stumble.

“Dress and shoes, I’ll wait out here.” He tells me and I contemplate objecting for a sweet second, but cave instead.

He’s right for pushing me to get dressed, because I did in fact force everyone to go tonight. Prom in the middle of a crises seems out of order, but it’s the last time we’ll all be here together and it’s important to make memories, even if only for one night. Besides, it's Beacon Hills, there is never not a crises at hand. Although I hadn’t realized until now that I’d be going stag among all of my couple friends. And I certainly didn’t realize that the one person I want to be here isn’t.

“There she is!” Stiles exclaims with a large smile as I emerge from the bathroom. “Shoes,” He says as he holds them out for me. I take them, lifting the layers of my dress high enough to slip the heels on and out of the corner of my eyes I can see him stuffing multiple makeup products into his blazer pocket. He smiles when he sees me. “Lydia will help you in the car.” He informs me and I have just enough time to grab my clutch and some perfume before he starts pushing me out of the room and towards the jeep.

“You look amazing.” Lydia tells me as we reach the jeep. I smile, pushing a curl behind my ear as Stiles opens the back door for us to get in.

“Yeah, you’re both gorgeous. Now get in,” He rushes and Lydia rolls her eyes before jumping in, with me following suit. “Makeup.” Stiles says as he hands us his blazer over the seat, starting the car in the same movement. I smile over at Lydia as she removes everything from the pockets, looking over at Stiles through the mirror every few seconds where his eyes already wait for hers.

It doesn’t take long for her to get going. Applying everything in the correct steps, stopping briefly when Stiles gives her the bump warning. I sit still through the process, my mind slipping away from reality as I let her do her job.

“Glossy or Nude?” Lydia asks and I realize we’ve stilled in front of the school. She holds up two lip-gloss tubes for me to choose from and I reach forward to take the glossy one, knowing it’ll be much less of a hassle to reapply. “Good choice, we’ll wait outside.” She tells me, squeezing my hand before getting out of the open door that Stiles holds on to.

“Hey man!” A new voice yells from across the parking lot and I peak out of the window to see Scott and Malia walking hand in hand towards the jeep. I smile to myself and then use my phone as a mirror to quickly put of the gloss.

“Where’s Y/n?” Malia asks just as I get out of the jeep and her face lights up when she sees we’re both wearing black.

��You look very pretty.” Scott tells me as he leans in for a quick hug and I smile before following the four of them into the school.

I swing my clutch over my shoulder and allow my fingers to tangle into the little charm on my necklace, my heart swooning over to the hands that clipped it on for me a few months ago.

The gym hums with excitement as everyone moves in somewhat of a rhythm to the song that the band is playing. The decorative balloons begging to be released from their strings to the ceiling. A large collection of different coloured lights flickering on beat against the walls.

“We’re going to dance!” Malia yells over the noise, harshly grabbing onto Scott’s hand and pulling him towards the dancefloor. Scott just smiles as he allows her to lead him away.

“Do you girls want something to drink?” Stiles asks already backing up towards the snack table and Lydia just smiles as she shakes her head to tell him no. He looks at me and I mimic Lydia’s gesture which causes him to nod quickly before walking off.

I look over at Malia and Scott who are both waving us over to join them. Lydia smiles. “You coming?” She asks leaning in. I look from her to the dancefloor and I really don’t feel like jumping around and shuffling against other people right now.

“I’m going to the ladies’ room really quick and then I’ll join you.” I tell her, leaning into her as well so she can hear me. She looks me over for a second, probably checking to see if I’m okay and then nods before walking away. I wait for her to reach them before turning around and walking to the door we just came in through. I just got here and already I feel like I need some air. I bend down to take of my heels and hold them in my hand as I walk over to the school sign, pushing myself up and placing my purse and heels next to me.

Senior prom. It’s one of those milestone nights, one to remember forever. Physically I’m ready, but my mind is far away from the glitter and the punch. My mind is with Derek Hale and so is my heart.

I reach into my purse and pull out my phone, unlocking it quickly to dial the number of the motel he’s staying at in Mexico. It rings a few times before a loud beep tells me that he’s not in his room. I sigh before adjusting myself on the wall and bringing the phone closer to my ear.

“Hi,” I say almost too softly, I pull my knees to my chest, the dress draping around me. “I missed you again. We can’t seem to get this scheduling thing right. I just wanted to hear your voice, I guess,” I smile as I look up at the stars. “I’m at our spot right now, thinking of you in a suit and a tie. You look handsome by the way,” I close my eyes to picture it, but shake my head when the image starts to drift. “Anyway. Call me back when you can. I miss you.” I put the phone down next to me as I continue to look at the starts, swallowing down the tears in my throat.

“Now, you know damn well that I don’t wear ties.”

“Derek?” I question softly, my voice shaking with excitement at the very idea of that voice in fact belonging to my goofball. He laughs lightly and now I don’t even have to think about it to know that it’s him.

I turn myself around quickly, meeting his gaze for a brief second before losing my balance and slipping from the little wall. His laughter continues as he moves to catch me, getting hold of my hand just in time to stop my untimely collide with the concrete. He pulls me against him to steady me and despite the countless times we’ve done this, I still need to catch my breath. My cheeks burn as I feel his eyes moving over my body taking his bloody time to look at every single feature.

“Beautiful.” Is all he says as our eyes meet and my lips tilt upwards as a natural reaction to his presence. I move my hands from his and carefully reach upwards to touch his face, hovering for barely a second before softly cupping his cheeks. My smile grows.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, his hands folding around my waist to keep me close.

“I missed you,,” He informs me, like it’s just that simple. “Stiles called.” He continues and I can’t decide where to rest my eyes as he speaks. “He said you weren’t acting like yourself this week and it didn’t take a genius to figure out why,” His thumbs trace the stitching of my dress. “And I wasn’t exactly doing any better on my end, so here I am.”

“I was losing my mind without you here,,” I tell him, my heart beating in my throat as he smiles down at me. He tilts his head to look at me even closer and I almost instantly look down. “When do you have to go back?” I ask after a moment of silence and I feel his body tense against mine, letting me know that it’s a lot sooner than I’d want. He sighs, his hands tugging me closer.

“Let’s not think about that,” I look up to see him grinning brightly, his eyes almost sparkling as he stares at me. “We have tonight. I can hold you in my arms and hear your voice,,” He kisses my nose, the suddenness of the gesture making me giggle. “I get to hear that intoxicating little sound,” He exhales slowly. “We have tonight.” He tells me softly and his voice drifts as he leans in, I jump away from him quickly, mischief on my mind as I back away from him.

“Would you like to dance?” I ask him and he groans loudly, eyes telling me exactly what he was about to do. I laugh softly.

“Not exactly.” He pulls a hand through his hair and a glimmer of frustration rests in his raised brow.

“Come now, it’s my prom night after all,” I take hold of both his hands. “Are they playing a slow song or a fast song?” I ask him and he shakes his head at me before closing his eyes to listen.

“Slow…” He says and I smile, part of me being glad that I don’t have to stop being so close to him after all.

“Is that so?” I muse, the tone of my voice prompting him to open his eyes and without missing a beat he pulls on my hands until I’m once again held firmly in his embrace. I giggle again, something I realize only happens so naturally when I’m with him. Our hands shift into place and I tangle my fingers together behind his neck. His arms dangling loosely as his fingers fold around my sides.

“I might just enjoy this after all,” He informs me with a silly little smirk as he guides us to a rhythm only he can hear. We sway in silence for a while, my face against his chest and his chin on my head. “I don’t know how I went on so long without you,” He says suddenly, lifting his head so I can look at him. “It’ll be downright impossible to do it now.” He tells me, bringing out bodies to a halt as he lifts a hand to my face, his fingers stroking over my cheeks slowly. I close my eyes as the sensation captivates my senses.

“I know what you mean.” I say softly, sliding my hands down his blazer where I rest my fingers against his chest.

“I love you,” He tells me and I open my eyes. He uses his thumb to lift my face, a smile filling his lips when he looks at me. “Say it back , won’t you?” He asks playfully and I smile as well, my heart swelling with pride.

“I love you, too.” I tell him and he laughs.

“Again.” He tells me, looking over me as he waits for me to say it.

“I love you too.” He laughs again, softer this time. Happier.

“Yeah…” He kisses me quickly, not nearly long enough to make up for the time we’ve been apart, but the way he looks at me leaves me breathless. He rests his forehead against mine. “I’ll never be able to leave you again.”

Hi there, more of my imagines can be found on Wattpad under @mjoubertt. Mxx.

#derekhale x reader #derek hale imagines #derek x reader #derek hale one shot #derek hale #teenwolf x reader #teen wolf

157 notes · View notes

hrina · 4 years

Text

Polished

PAIRING: Harry x Reader RATING: M WORD COUNT: 15.6k REQUESTED: nope!

hi everyone 💘 this is the bodyguard AU that i’ve spent all week writing. she’s another long one (i think i have a problem lol) but i worked really hard on it and i’m super proud of how it all turned out. i really hope you like it! if you do, please feel free to leave me some feedback here.

thank u to the people who acted as my betas for portions/the entirety of this fic: @emotionally-imbruised, @gucciwoodnymph, @poppunkdork and @atlafan! i appreciate it so much!

warning: this fic contains mentions of blood, minor violence, attempted assault, weaponry, and a single use of the f-slur. if any of this makes you uncomfortable, please keep scrolling.

with all of that being said, enjoy! i can’t wait to hear ur thoughts 💖

~*~

September 18, 2020

“Cheers!”

The tequila burns its way down your throat as you toss the shot back. Your ears are ringing, the sound amplified by the music pulsing through the nightclub. Lights flash from the ceiling, bathing everything in pinks and blues and greens and purples. To your right, Sydney leans forward, smiles toothily, and yells something at the bartender. You think she might be telling him that it’s her birthday, even though that won’t be true for another month—perhaps it’s an attempt to secure an additional round of drinks. Your hips sway unconsciously as you sink your teeth into a slice of lime.

It’s a Friday night.

In the periphery of your vision, you catch the bartender nodding with a permissive smile on his face.

It’s a Friday night, and Sydney is handing you another shot of tequila.

Someone places their hand on the small of your back as they pass. A little zap of electricity races down your spine.

It’s a Friday night, Sydney is handing you another shot of tequila, and you’re drunk. You’re very, very drunk.

The pinch of salt that you lick off your hand stings the edge of your tongue. You don’t reflect on the sensation for too long, though, choosing instead to tip your shot glass back and let the alcohol run its course. The bottom of the glass thuds against the countertop when you slam it down, but the noise is lost amidst the heavy bass pouring through the club. Sydney smiles up at you as she bites into her lime, a green grin. You laugh.

“So!” your friend screams, grimacing at the sour aftertaste lingering on her lips. “Where’s Harry?”

“What?” You squint and lean in, bending down slightly so that you can hear her properly.

She rolls her eyes good-naturedly and repeats the question: “Where’s Harry?”

“Oh!” You smirk, shooting her a mischievous wink. “Managed to shake him off for the night!”

“No shit!” Sydney yells, her jaw dropping. “He let you come?”

You pucker your lips, averting your gaze. “Er…not exactly.”

In response, her eyes widen, and she just laughs. You grin when she slaps your arm gently and grabs your wrist, tugging you away from the bar and into the dancing crowd.

“Who cares?” she says loudly, throwing her hands toward the ceiling and shaking her hips. “He’s got a stick up his ass either way!”

Despite your inebriated state, part of you longs to correct her. He’s actually not that bad, you want to say, because it’s true. In public, Harry is stoic and reserved and always on high alert, but that’s because he has to be. It’s his job. You resent the fact that he intimidates your friends, and that it complicates your outings, but you don’t resent him. He’s been assigned to you for two years now, and there’s never been an incident—you wonder if it’s because he’s good at what he does, or because you don’t really need protection after all.

All this time…perhaps your mother was just overly paranoid. And perhaps she continues to be overly paranoid, even to this day.

You shake those thoughts from your mind; they’ll just give you a headache.

Another hand lands on the small of your back, but this time, the contact isn’t fleeting. Fingers pinch and tug at the material of your shirt, relentless. You’re about to whip around and demand that this badgering stranger unhand you, but then a pair of lips are right at the shell of your ear. Hot air fans down your neck—you shiver.

“Why do you insist on making my job so much harder than it has to be?”

~*~

Harry doesn’t speak a word after ushering you into the car. The whole ride back, you sit with your arms crossed, staring out the window and trying to shake off your dizziness. A deep pout is etched into your lips. Your somber expression doesn’t shift, not even when Harry pulls up to the tall metal entrance of your estate, punching in a code on the keypad and sticking his head out of the driver window to undergo a retinal scan. He settles back into his seat afterward, blinking rapidly and waiting for the front gates to creak open.

“How’d you find me?” you slur as you stumble into your bedroom. It’s the first time you’ve spoken since he dragged you out of the club.

Harry doesn’t answer as you make your way over to your bed; your room is large, rivalling the size of an overpriced studio apartment. The furniture is all carved from the finest mahogany, and a glass chandelier hangs from the ceiling. Tall, full-length windows are framed by satin curtains. On the opposite wall stands the door to your private washroom, and next to it, the entrance to your walk-in closet. It’s lavish, it’s luxurious, but it does nothing to ease the situation at hand.

“What?” you ask, plopping down onto your bed. You lift one foot up, fiddling with the strap around your ankle. “Ignoring me for the night?”

You purse your lips as you struggle to get your heels off. Your head is swimming, and a deep feeling of shame is blossoming in your chest. Groaning loudly, you smack your hands down against the duvet and squeeze your eyes shut.

Footsteps approach, but you pay them no mind. You only open your eyes once you feel a pair of rough—albeit nimble—fingers dance down your shin. Through the slight blur in your vision, you find Harry kneeling before you, his hands working deftly to unclasp the strap on each ankle and gently tug your shoes from your feet. You wiggle your toes, sighing appreciatively.

“Thank you,” you murmur, swallowing heavily.

He only grunts in response.

The two of you sit there in silence—you on your duvet and him on his haunches. He’s looking down at the ground, and you take the moment to study his features—the sharp bridge of his nose, the fluttering of his eyelashes, the twisting of his lips. His black suit fits him well, filled out in all the right places; gold cufflinks glint in the moonlight. He’s attractive, and you’re not blind. But your relationship is strictly professional, no matter how much you like to think that the two of you have grown close enough to be friends.

“Find my iPhone,” Harry mutters suddenly.

“What?”

You recoil. He looks up at you with piercing green eyes, and only then do you realise that he’s answering your initial question.

“Oh,” you say, nodding. “Well…good to know.”

His lips twitch.

You wobble into the washroom, trying your best to rub off the makeup on your face despite your inebriated state. Somewhere beneath the buzz, you know that you didn’t get all of it—and that there’ll probably be dried crusts of mascara beneath your eyes tomorrow—but you can’t bring yourself to care.

“You missed some.”

You jump, your gaze snapping upward. In the reflection of the mirror, Harry is leaning against the doorway. You groan, raking your fingers through your hair.

“Don’t worry about it,” you mumble.

Harry’s brows creep up his forehead, surprise evident on his face. “Aren’t you always telling me that it’s important to take it all off before bed?”

You roll your eyes. “I’m smarter when I’m sober.”

He snorts. “Good one.”

You frown.

He pushes off from the doorway, stepping closer to you and reaching for the pack of discarded makeup wipes. When his eyes meet yours in the mirror, he tilts his head to the side, gesturing to the toilet on your right.

“Sit.”

You pout like a child, plopping down onto the ceramic lid and waiting impatiently. Harry takes his sweet time, slowly pulling a wipe from the package and unfurling it gingerly. You’re momentarily entranced by the way the rings on his fingers sparkle in the light. But then a yawn tears past your lips, and you begin to tap your foot against the bathroom tiles, letting out an annoyed sigh.

“C’mon. I’m tired.”

He shoots you a stern look. It’s enough to shut you up.

You watch him intently as he crouches down in front of you and grabs your chin between his fingers. “Close your eyes,” he murmurs. The deep baritone of his voice sends a shiver down your spine.

His ministrations aren’t as tender as they should be—you make it a point to tell him as much.

“You’re rubbing too harshly,” you whine, squeezing your eyes shut. “Be gentler with it.”

“Quiet,” Harry huffs.

Spurred on by his irritation, you continue: “Are you always this rough? Your poor girlfriend…”

He grits his teeth.

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” he deadpans. You whimper when he drags the wipe unforgivingly over the delicate skin of your eyelids. “But if I did,” he adds, “she’d like it rough.”

Your shoulders stiffen once his words sink in. He says nothing else, choosing instead to crumple the wipe up into a ball and toss it in the garbage. You follow his movements with wide eyes, staring up at him as he stands.

“Brush your teeth,” he tells you, rubbing his fingers over his jawline. “Your breath stinks.”

And then he’s gone.

After a haphazard attempt at brushing your teeth, you shuffle back into your bedroom. Harry is still there, but he’s holding two pieces of fabric for you to take. You recognize them as the baggy t-shirt and the shorts that you usually wear to bed.

“Thank you,” you say, laying the material out on your mattress. Your lips part with another loud yawn as you unzip your skirt, letting it fall from your hips and pool around your ankles. When you cast a glance toward Harry, you find him facing away from you, his fingers laced behind his back.

Always a gentleman.

You tug on the soft, cotton shorts—the hem falls a few inches below your bottom. You reach behind your back, trying to thumb open the clasps of your shirt, but quickly grow frustrated as the seconds draw out.

“Harry,” you sigh, shaking your head.

“Yes?” He doesn’t turn around.

“Can you help me with this?”

Gingerly, he peers at you over his shoulder. Once he takes note of the fact that you’re dressed, he steps closer to you. You toss a thumb backward, gesturing to the column of buttons stacked along your spine.

Again, Harry manages the task easily. You stiffen as he parts the fabric of your shirt, your eyelids growing heavy with each new inch of skin exposed. Though he’s not standing nearly as close as you would like, you can still feel faint puffs of air floating across the nape of your neck. The room is silent; you’re afraid that he can hear your heart battering against the confines of your chest.

Do his hands linger a touch longer than necessary, or is it just your imagination?

“Thank you,” you say for what feels like the hundredth time tonight.

You pull your shirt off, leaving yourself in just a lacy black bra. Harry’s sharp intake of breath is audible, and then he’s whipping back around.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, shaking his head. “Give a guy a warning next time, yeah?”

“Next time?” you parrot, emboldened by the alcohol in your system. “Am I going to be stripping for you on a daily basis?”

He grunts. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

You smile to yourself, unclipping your bra and shrugging on the baggy t-shirt he’d given you. “I know.” You clear your throat. “You can turn around now. I’m decent.”

Harry glances over at you as you climb into bed, pulling the covers back and nuzzling your face into your pillow. He bites his bottom lip, crossing his arms over his chest and watching as you settle in for the night. Once your shuffling has ceased, he squares his shoulders, his gaze flitting toward the door.

“Well, if that’s everything—,” he starts, taking a step back.

“Wait!” you say, shooting up into a sitting position.

He freezes, his eyes going wide. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you reply. You shrug, picking at a loose thread on your duvet and avoiding his eyes. “Would you—I was just wondering if maybe—you could stay?”

“Stay,” Harry echoes. You nod, still refusing to look at him. He sighs, and the pet name that he seems to have reserved exclusively for you falls past his lips.

“Love…you’re drunk.”

“Exactly,” you shoot back. “I’m drunk and I just…it feels like I’m floating, and I need something to keep me grounded. And—” you groan, “I know that doesn’t make any sense, but could you please stay? Just—just until I fall asleep. Then you’re free to go, or whatever.”

Harry’s eyes are wide by the time you’re through with your little speech. His expression leaves you feeling even more embarrassed than before. You’re about to roll your eyes and grumble out a never mind, I’m being stupid, just leave, but then he’s approaching your bed cautiously, like you’re a deer that he doesn’t want to startle.

“Just until you fall asleep,” he confirms, drumming his fingers over his bicep.

You nod, expecting him to settle into the armchair a few feet away.

He doesn’t though; you watch attentively as he lowers himself down to sit at the edge of your mattress. His posture is stiff, back straight—he uncrosses his arms, but then locks his fingers together and places them securely in his lap. You hold back a laugh.

“You can relax, you know,” you say, rolling onto your side so that you can fix him with earnest eyes. “I won’t bite.” You pause. “Unless you’re into that kind of stuff.”

“I’ll leave,” Harry threatens without missing a beat.

You giggle, smothering your cheek into your pillow. “Fine, fine, I’m sorry.”

The ghost of a smile dances across his lips. Your eyes fall from his face to his lap; without thinking, you reach out, wrapping your fingers around his wrist and tugging his hands apart.

“It’s already chipping,” you say, a hint of admonishment seeping into your voice. “You should’ve let me put on the protective coat, dummy.”

“It’s fine,” Harry says, flexing his fingers in your grasp. “You’re just gonna redo them on Wednesday, anyway.”

“Still,” you murmur, thumbing over the purple varnish on his nails. You scrape your knuckles against his, letting out a quiet sigh. “What colour do you want next? Are we sticking with lavender again?”

“Nah.” He shakes his head. “Let’s try something new.”

“I went shopping yesterday with Sydney and bought mint green,” you tell him through a yawn. “What do you think of that?”

“’S nice,” he replies, though it sounds like he’s far away.

You peer up at him through your lashes, only to find that he’s staring at you intently. Under normal circumstances, you would offer up a quip about how he can’t seem to keep his eyes off of you. But you’re tired, and you’re warm, and his hand is now stroking over yours, and you don’t want to ruin the moment.

Maybe he’ll stay the night, is your last thought before you drift off to sleep.

When you awaken the next morning with a pounding headache and a dry mouth, Harry’s gone. The only proof left of the night before is a tablet of ibuprofen and a glass of clear liquid sitting on your nightstand. The ceiling wavers above you; you might still be a little drunk.

You sit up, popping the pill into your mouth and knocking it back with a large swig of water. There’s a dull ache in your chest but you ignore it, opting instead to pull the covers back up over your head.

He didn’t stay. You try not to feel too disappointed as the realisation sinks in.

September 23, 2020

Harry is waiting for you once you get out of class.

Usually, you fall into step with him, ready with a teasing remark about how he must not have anything better to do with his time. He knows that the two of you probably look like quite the pair—you, with your bag and your coffee and your cheeky smirk, and him, resigned and rigid and expressionless. He would give anything to claw his way out of this situation, to smile along with you and laugh at your jokes and tuck your hair behind your ear. But he needs this job, and your mother loves him like a son, and he doesn’t want to do anything to screw that up.

Today, however, you leave class with a new friend. Harry’s entire body tenses when he notes just how closely the man is walking next to you. He follows the two of you from a safe distance, trying his best to be inconspicuous. You laugh at something that your companion says, and his jaw clenches—he pretends not to know why.

It feels like eons have passed before you and the man finally part ways. Harry doesn’t waste any time.

“Hey,” you say without even turning to look at him. When he glances down at you, he finds a shadowy smirk on your face.

“Hi,” he replies, clearing his throat. “Good class?”

“Mhm.” You nod.

“That’s good.”

He blows out a breath, pushing through a door and holding it open for you to follow. You thank him softly, releasing a happy sigh as the warm sunlight hits your face. Harry’s gaze is drawn to the serenity of your features, but he looks away quickly. He’s not really in the mood to endure your taunts. Not today.

“So,” he starts as the two of you amble down the sidewalk, “you made a new friend?”

“Yeah,” you say, shouldering the strap of your messenger bag. “His name is Kevin. He’s nice.”

“He’s funny, too, I’m guessing.” The slightest tinge of bitterness seeps into his words. He hopes that you won’t notice, but of course, you’re as perceptive as ever.

You glance over at him, lifting an eyebrow quizzically. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were jealous.”

Harry keeps his eyes trained in front of him, where he can see a black car inching into view on the road ahead. Your chauffeur rolls down the window, lifting one hand in greeting. Harry waves back, his expression betraying nothing.

“It’s a good thing you know better, then, isn’t it?”

You laugh at his comeback, but the noise isn’t as cheerful as usual. If anything, it sounds a bit forced.

“Yeah,” you say. Harry opens the car door for you, and you climb into the backseat. “I guess it is.”

~*~

“Your hand is shaking.”

“It’s not my hand, it’s yours.”

“You’re smudging it.”

“Because you keep moving!”

You sigh, sitting back against the headboard of your bed and squeezing your eyes shut. You don’t need to see Harry to know that he’s fighting a smirk. The discography of your newest celebrity obsession is playing on your phone. Harry has told you multiple times that he hates this song—and that’s exactly why you have it on repeat.

“Can we please listen to something else?” he asks, shifting carefully on your bed.

You crack one eye open. “Can you stay still long enough for me to finish doing your nails?”

“Fine.”

You scoot closer to him, reaching for your phone and shuffling the songs in your library. Harry exhales in relief when a new, slower melody begins to trickle from the device. You toss it away, holding out your hand and looking at him expectantly. He lifts his chin, placing his fingers onto one of your crossed legs.

The sensation of his hand on your knee shouldn’t leave you breathless, but it does. You feel like his palm is burning a hole through your sweatpants. It’s been like this for as long as you can remember—painting his nails every Wednesday night, listening to music and enjoying each other’s company. Some evenings, conversation is scarce; others, it’s like you haven’t spoken in months. It doesn’t make a difference to you—you just like knowing that he’s there.

“How’d the call with your mum go?” Harry says. He makes a move to rest his chin against his fist before realising that the action will inevitably disrupt the polish on his other hand. You notice, smiling softly at the awkward moment.

“It went well,” you hum. Harry likes the way you purse your lips in concentration. “She’d landed in Amsterdam a couple hours prior. Called me when she got to the hotel.”

“That’s good.” He blows out a breath. “How long is she staying for?”

“A few months.”

“I see.”

You peer up at him, your eyes swimming with curiosity. “Do you know why she’s there?”

He shakes his head.

“Are you lying to me?”

“Love,” he starts, frowning gently, “you know she doesn’t—I’m not—she doesn’t keep me in her circle.”

“I know,” you say, somewhat mournfully. “I just thought—maybe she would’ve told you.”

A dejected crease forms on your forehead. Harry longs to lean forward and smooth it out with his lips. He hates when you get like this, but on the other hand, he can’t blame you. Surely, it must be difficult to be kept in the dark, especially for so long. It’s been years, and you’re still not exactly sure of what your mother has gotten herself into.

And despite your frequent questions about her trips, you’re not exactly sure if you want to know.

Silence ensues, and the two of you wordlessly agree to drop the topic—at least for tonight. You finish painting the nail on Harry’s middle finger, bending down and blowing cool air on the wet varnish in hopes of speeding up the drying process.

“Careful,” he warns when your hair tumbles over your shoulder. Without thinking, he reaches out, trying his best to gather the strands in one hand so that they don’t fall onto the freshly-painted nails splayed out over your knee.

You squawk in surprise, sitting back up and circling your fingers around his wrist. “What’d you do that for?” you say, admonishment evident in your tone. “You’re gonna screw these ones up!”

“I was just—!” he tries, but you shush him, scrutinising the semi-dry polish on his other hand. After a long moment, you sigh in relief, returning it and narrowing your eyes at him.

“You’re lucky,” you tell him, snorting quietly. “I would’ve killed you.”

“Like you could take me,” he mutters under his breath.

“What was that?” You cock an eyebrow.

“Nothing.”

You smirk, peering down at the mint green covering three out of his five nails. Absentmindedly, you run your fingers over the hills of his knuckles, softly tweaking his pinky at the end of your journey.

“We’ve come a long way since the black, haven’t we?” you ask, a teasing lilt in your voice. “That was so boring.”

“It was.” Harry nods.

It’s comical, really—a big man like him, sitting cross-legged on your bed. A man covered in an intimidating black suit, hunched over and watching with wide eyes as you meticulously paint shiny varnish onto each one of his nails.

A year ago, you would have been reminding him of this at every available opportunity.

Now, though…now, you’re just enjoying the closeness of it all.

“Er,” Harry clears his throat, and you peer up at him through your lashes.

“What’s up?” you ask.

“I—,” he looks away. “I just wanted to apologise for earlier today.”

“Earlier today…,” you trail off, frowning in confusion. “What happened earlier today?”

“When I—when you—never mind.” He shakes his head.

You smile. “I’m totally fucking with you,” you tell him, snickering quietly. You shrug. “And it’s okay. I forgive you.”

Harry’s brow furrows. “You’re the worst,” he grumbles, his lips curling down into a scowl.

You laugh, reaching forward and shoving his shoulder gently. “You love it.” Your own shoulders shake as you look back down, dipping the dried nail brush into its accompanying pot of green polish.

“Plus,” you add, trying to keep your voice light. “You’ve got nothing to worry about. Unfortunately, you’re the only man in my life.”

Harry lifts one eyebrow, unimpressed. “Should I be insulted?”

You resume painting his nails, giggling at his sardonic tone. “You should be flattered.”

October 10, 2020

You’re walking back to the car when it happens.

It’s a beautiful day—the sun is shining brightly, and there’s not a cloud in the sky. You and Harry pass by a woman walking her dog, but not before you bend down, transferring all of your shopping bags into one hand (a feat, Harry thinks) and cooing at the furry little creature.

“She’s adorable,” you tell the owner, peering up at her with shining eyes. “What’s her name?”

“Blossom,” the woman replies, smiling.

“Blossom,” you repeat, turning your gaze back to the fluffy white dog. “Oh, you’re beautiful, aren’t you? I just want to eat you up.”

The owner laughs nervously—Harry doesn’t blame her. You’re harmless, but he’s right behind you. He’s sure that he looks intimidating, lingering in a black suit with his arms crossed over his chest. He makes no move to engage with the woman or her dog, even though the little boy in him yearns to run his fingers through Blossom’s soft white fur. Instead, he stands there, waiting patiently as you bid the lady goodbye and blow one last kiss in her pet’s general direction.

The two of you continue walking; the car is only about fifty feet away.

“That was one of the cutest dogs I’ve ever seen,” you say once you’re out of earshot. You glance back over your shoulder, sighing longingly. “Do you think she’d put her up for sale if I asked?”

Despite himself, Harry smirks.

“Contrary to popular belief,” he begins, uncrossing his arms. “You can’t buy everything you see.”

“I bought you, didn’t I?”

“I’m not for sale. And even if I was, technically it would’ve been your mother who bought me.”

“Okay, well then, we bought…your services.”

“Jesus.” He shakes his head, chuckling a bit. “You make it sound like I’m a prostitute or something.”

You laugh.

Harry loves your laugh. He loves the sound, loves the tone, loves the pitch. He loves the way your features crinkle up with joy as the noise slips from your mouth. Every time he hears your giggle, his gaze is drawn to your face, like an inborn reflex.

He’s grateful for that. He sends out a prayer of thanks to whatever mighty powers that may be, because when he looks at you, he sees everything. He sees your smile, the apples of your cheeks, your full, fluttering lashes.

And he sees the shaky red dot positioned squarely between your eyes.

“Get down!”

You squawk in surprise when he tackles you to the ground.

“Harry—!” you start, but then a telltale whizz! rockets past your ear.

You scream.

Your shoulder makes contact with the cement of the sidewalk, and a flare of pain blazes up your arm. Harry’s on top of you in an instant, his hands on either side of your head and his green eyes wild with panic. You’ve never seen him look so scared.

You know what’s happening, but you can’t seem to move. Your pretty pastel shopping bags are lying around you in a heap. Some are still on your arm, digging into your wrist and cutting off circulation. Harry appears to realise this as well, because he climbs to his knees and yanks your hands free.

“Go!” he shouts, but his voice is muffled by the ringing in your ears.

The two of you stagger to your feet. You take in your surroundings, your lips parted in shock. “My—my bags…”

“Forget the bags!” he yells. He grips your biceps callously, spinning you around and shoving you in the direction of the car. “Fucking run!”

~*~

“Harry…”

“Harry.”

“Harry!”

“What?” he roars, whipping around.

You stumble backward, nearly bumping into the wall behind you. You’re standing in the front foyer of your estate, your face littered with tears and your hands perpetually shaky. Harry locks the door and then wrenches closed the curtains on the windows flanking the entrance. The abrupt action causes him to wince.

“You’re hurt,” you state, though your voice is weak. “Harry, your arm…”

“’S just a graze,” he mutters, turning on his heel and storming past you.

You follow him as he makes his way toward the tall, winding staircase in the middle of the room. The steps span every level of your house, from the top floor to the basement. Harry pauses on the first stair of the flight leading downward, his hand on the bannister and his back to you.

“Go to your room,” he orders lowly, refusing to look at you. “And stay there.”

“Go to my room?” you repeat incredulously, your eyes bulging out of your head. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

Harry doesn’t reply; instead, he blocks you out, descending the stairs into the basement without another word. You let out an angry yell, furiously fisting the material of your cashmere sweater. A few long moments elapse before you grit your teeth, and then your feet are smacking heatedly against each step as you rush after him.

You’re quiet once you reach the bottom of the flight, looking both ways for any clue as to where he could’ve gone. You purse your lips when you see him turn the corner, his left hand clutching his right bicep and a deep scowl etched into his face. Silently, you follow.

He ducks into a room at the end of the hall, pushing the door closed. However, it doesn’t click into place, leaving a small crack for you to peek through once you reach the threshold. You place one hand over your mouth to stifle your breathing, watching with wide eyes as Harry yanks his suit jacket from his torso.

His white button up is crisp and pristine—save for the right sleeve, which is soaked through with blood. You nearly gag.

Harry stalks through another doorway—a quick glimpse inside reveals it to be a bathroom. You push open your door ever-so-slightly, taking in the scene in front of you.

His bedroom. Of course.

You’ve never actually been inside his room. You’ve always known he lived somewhere in the house—a safe haven to frequent after midnight—but you’d never been bold enough to seek it out. You’re surprised to find that his room is quite similar to yours. It’s smaller in size, but the layout is the same (excluding your full-length windows and luxurious chandelier). The walls are painted a deep shade of burgundy, and the bed is made up of black satin sheets. He also has a walk-in closet and an adjoining washroom, just like you.

Bolstered by your discovery, you slip inside, nudging the door closed. Something on his dresser glints, catching your eye—you turn toward it.

It’s a picture frame. Upon closer inspection, you notice that it bears a photo of Harry. He’s young, but not that much younger than you are, now—maybe nineteen or twenty. He’s got his arms wrapped around two women, holding them against his sides; one is older, her face slightly weathered with age, whereas the other is youthful and alert, sporting bright eyes and smooth cheeks.

With a jolt, you realise that Harry and both of these women all look eerily similar—and that they all share the same smile.

The sound of running water jerks you out of your daze. Your head snaps up in the direction of the washroom; the door has been left ajar.

Harry is standing in front of the sink, soaking a washcloth underneath the faucet. His hair is dishevelled, and his button-up has been ripped open, exposing his chest and abdomen. A silver pendant—a dog tag—hangs from his neck. You’re shocked to discover all of the tattoos littering his skin—you’ve only ever been privy to the cross inked into the dip of his thumb.

Your eyes trail up his body, landing once again on the bloody sleeve covering his arm. The sight of it is enough, giving you the courage you need to speak up.

“Just a graze, huh?”

Harry’s eyes flicker up to meet yours in the mirror. A small part of you is upset that you didn’t manage to catch him by surprise. Are you really that predictable?

“Thought I told you to go to your room.”

You place your hands on your hips, scowling deeply. “And I thought you were twenty-six, not fifty. Who are you, my father?”

“No,” Harry says, and you hate the coolness with which he addresses you. He wraps the wet washcloth around his fingers, squeezing excess water from the fabric. “But I am your bodyguard.”

“You’re also hurt,” you retaliate, taking a step toward him.

Harry moves to the side, trying to put some distance between your bodies, but you’re not deterred. You back him up until his leg knocks against the edge of the bathtub, lifting one eyebrow challengingly because he has nowhere to go. His nostrils flare in irritation—you don’t think he’s ready to give up.

“You have two options,” you tell him, set on holding your ground. “You can either stop being such a proud prick and let me help you, or we can stay like this, and you can bleed out onto the bathroom floor.”

A long stretch of silence ensues. Harry stares at you with hard eyes, but you refuse to let your foundation crumble. Just when you think he’s going to force his way out of the situation, he sighs in defeat, his shoulders slumping dejectedly. You hold out your hand, and he dumps the washcloth into your waiting palm.

“Come here,” you say, backing up.

You hop onto the counter, spreading your legs and beckoning him closer.

He hesitates. You roll your eyes.

“Get over yourself,” you snap, shaking your head. “You’re not that dreamy.”

It’s unmistakably a lie, and you both know it, but neither of you say anything. Harry settles into the gap between your knees, keeping his arms securely at his sides. You peer up at him nervously, setting the washcloth down onto the counter and reaching forward to lightly grasp the collar of his shirt.

“This might hurt a bit,” you whisper, tugging the material away from his shoulders. He hisses when the fabric passes over his wound, scraping unpleasantly against the raw skin. You purse your lips, murmuring gentle apologies.

His left arm is covered in tattoos. You want to stop what you’re doing, trail your fingers over each design, and marvel at every little detail. But you can’t—you have bigger things to worry about at the moment, and not even your priorities are that screwed up.

Harry swears under his breath when you press the washcloth to his bicep. The material is warm and wet, and you use it to soak up the blood that’s been smeared down to his elbow. Once you’ve cleaned the area around his wound, you lean in to get a better look at what you’re dealing with.

The skin is pink and irritated, and there’s a deep groove running across the width of his arm. He’s lucky—he’s so, so lucky—but even as you stare, blood begins to pool all over again. You quickly press the washcloth back against the laceration.

“Fuck!” he chokes, reaching out and gripping the edge of the counter with white knuckles. “A little warning would’ve been nice.”

“Sorry.” You shift, trying to catch his eyes. “Do you have any disinfectant? And bandages?”

He nods, bending down and pulling open one of the cupboards below the sink.

“Let me—,” you start, but he cuts you off quickly.

“Still got one good arm, don’t I?” he grumbles.

You chew on the inside of your cheek, unsure of how to reply.

The disinfectant stings like a bitch—you tell him as much before spritzing it onto his wound. He lets loose a string of colourful curse words, and despite the tension hanging in the air, you smile. The bandages are next; you rip off a long strip, winding it around his bicep and tying it into a tight knot at the end.

“You need to keep pressure on it,” you murmur, though you don’t know who you’re addressing. “That should stop the bleeding, eventually.”

“Eventually,” he echoes. You stare fixedly at his collarbones and nod.

A beat of silence passes between you.

“I’m sorry,” you finally mumble, looking down at your lap.

He grunts. “For what?”

“For this,” you say, shaking your head and gesturing between your bodies. “You—you got shot, Harry.”

“Graze,” he reminds you, but the correction only makes you feel worse.

“It doesn’t matter!” you say, looking up at him earnestly. “You could’ve died.”

“But I didn’t,” he says. He’s staring at the mirror behind your head, refusing to meet your gaze. “And if it weren’t for me, you would have died.”

“That’s exactly my point!” you cry. You wrap your fingers around his forearm, hoping that the contact is enough to make him understand. “Who says my life is more valuable than yours? Some stupid fucking paycheque? Or—?”

Harry cuts you off before you can say anything else, squishing your cheeks together with his left hand. You make a surprised sound in the back of your throat, your brows knitting together at the suddenness of the action. You’re sure that you must look extremely unappealing, with a puckered mouth and inquisitive eyes, but he just gazes at you solemnly, licking his lips before speaking.

“I would take a bullet for you, no questions asked.” He stresses every syllable, like he doesn’t want to risk any potential misinterpretation of his words. “And not just because it’s my job.”

For the first time since he’s known you, he witnesses you speechless. Your squished lips part, but no words come out. Harry sighs, releasing your cheeks and stepping back from in between your legs. You watch as he approaches the bathroom door, pulling it wide open and making his request clear.

“You should get some rest,” he mutters, and once again, he refuses to meet your eyes. “It’s been a long day.”

October 12, 2020

Harry pokes his head through your bedroom door just as you end the call with your mother. You groan, tossing your phone onto your mattress and flinging yourself into the mountain of pillows piled against the headboard. When you catch sight of him in the periphery of your vision, you greet him with a glare.

“You told her?”

He shrugs, stepping into your room and clasping his hands behind his back. “It’s my job.”

“No,” you say, mildly annoyed. “Your job is to make sure that I don’t get killed. Not to go running to my mother at the first sign of danger.”

Harry bristles. “She’s my boss. And you’re her daughter—she deserves to know.”

You groan, shutting your laptop and rolling over onto your stomach. Your sheets are soft; you wish that you could sink into the fabrics and let them swallow you up until you wink out of existence.

“What did she say?” Harry asks, snapping you out of your reverie.

“She wanted to come home,” you mumble, shaking your head. “I told her to stay where she was.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m fine!” you tell him, exasperation leaking into your words. “And I know that I’ll never hear the end of it if she has to cut her trip short because of me. God forbid she act like a parent for once in her life.”

“She’s trying her best.”

You laugh hollowly, turning onto your back and staring up at the ceiling. “That’s a lie, and we both know it.”

Harry doesn’t respond.

You peer over at him with raised brows, like you’re truly noticing his presence for the first time. “I’m surprised you’re still on duty. Does she not care about the fact that you’re injured?”

Again, he doesn’t respond. His silence, however, reveals everything.

“You didn’t tell her, did you?”

“I didn’t think it was relevant.”

“Bullshit,” you bark out, pushing yourself up into a sitting position. “So, what?” you ask, your lips curling down into a scowl. “You get to decide what’s ‘relevant’?”

“I’m here to protect you,” Harry states firmly, fixing you with stern eyes. “And I can’t do that from the sidelines.”

You scoff but say nothing else. A hush washes over the two of you, hanging heavy in the air. You pick at a loose thread on your duvet, your brows tucked tightly together.

Harry is the first one to break.

“Have you told your friends?”

You shake your head.

“Why not?”

“They don’t need to know.” You shrug. “Sydney’s rented out a booth for her birthday on Saturday, so I’m just going to go and pretend like nothing ever—”

“Hold on,” he cuts you off, wrinkles creasing into the skin of his forehead. “You—you’re joking, right?”

“Why would I joke about Sydney’s birthday?”

“No, I mean—,” he grunts, pinching the bridge of his nose with two fingers. You stare at him, utterly bewildered. He stands up to his full height, and the exasperation warping his features fades; apathy takes its place. “I’m sorry, but you’re not going.”

“What?” you shriek. Your unbothered appearance quickly disintegrates into a heated grimace. “What do you mean, I’m not going?”

“You’re not going,” he repeats, and you hate the calm—almost tranquil—expression on his face. “That’s final.”

“Okay,” you start, scrambling to your feet and holding up your hands. “Let’s pause for a second, yeah? I know we fuck around and laugh about my daddy issues sometimes, but…you do know that you’re not actually my father, right?”

“This isn’t about your daddy issues,” Harry declares, though his tone is void of any and all emotion. “It’s about your safety.”

“And what about my sanity?” you fire back. You tug the sleeves of your crewneck over your clenched fists, desperately searching for something to keep you from falling apart. “Are you saying that I’m basically trapped in my own goddamn house?”

“You’re being dramatic.” The mask that he’s wearing seems to have been carved from stone.

“Well, you’re being a dick.”

“I can live with that.”

“Harry!” You stomp your foot—like a fucking child—as your eyes dampen with tears. Your initial sense of shock washes away, replaced by a helplessness that you haven’t felt in a long time.

The next question that leaves your lips is pathetically frail.

“Why are you doing this?”

He finally meets your gaze, and for the first time since he’d walked in, it feels like he’s looking at you rather than through you. His back straightens, shoulders squaring like he’s preparing for divine combat. You approach him carefully, a stray tear streaking down your face. Before you can wipe it away on the material of your sleeve, Harry is reaching out with his uninjured arm, cupping your cheek and catching the droplet with his thumb.

“Less than forty-eight hours ago, an attempt was made on your life,” he murmurs, staring at you with earnest green eyes. “And you’re already so willing to risk it again?”

You sniffle, lifting your chin in defiance and batting his hand away. Harry’s expression falls, and his gaze grows cold once more. You wrap your arms around your torso, glaring at him angrily. Your subsequent command drips with venom.

“Get out.”

He doesn’t put up a fight.

October 14, 2020

It’s nearly one in the morning when someone knocks on your bedroom door. At first, you don’t hear it, too preoccupied with the song pouring from your headphones into your ears. But then it’s there again, a bit firmer this time, and you pause your music, calling out a gentle, “Come in!”

You don’t know who you’re expecting to see. Maybe it’s one of the housekeepers, doing some late-night laundry and bringing you fresh towels for the next day. Maybe your personal chef has been baking cookies again—a common coping mechanism for when she can’t sleep. Your mouth waters at the thought.

All of your hopes are dashed, however, when the door creaks open.

The first thing you notice is that Harry’s not wearing his usual attire. You don’t know why you’re surprised—it’s past midnight, and he’s technically off-duty. It’s still shocking, though, seeing him sporting a plain t-shirt and a pair of black sweatpants instead of the crisp, dark suit to which you’ve grown so accustomed. Your eyes drop to his hands—at least he’s still wearing his rings.

“Hi,” Harry utters lowly.

You turn back to your laptop, not saying a word.

He sighs, dragging a palm down the side of his face. Fresh bandages peek out from beneath the sleeve of his t-shirt. For some reason, the sight startles you, and you remember that this is the man who had quite literally taken a bullet for you.

You suppose that it’s time to remove your head from your ass.

You shut your computer, pushing it to the side before tossing your legs over the edge of the bed. Harry watches you cautiously as you approach him, still as a statue. Swallowing heavily, you reach out, pushing the sleeve of his shirt up and brushing your fingers over his wounded bicep.

“How is it?” you ask, your voice no higher than a whisper.

He relents, shoulders deflating as he exhales. “’S better. Still sore, but it’s healing.”

“Can I see?”

He nods.

You’re surprised at how easily he lets you take the lead. You push the door closed with one hand, lifting your chin in the direction of your bed. He obeys your silent request and pads over to your mattress, easing down onto the duvet with his sock-clad feet still flat against the floor. You join him a moment later, settling in on his right side and crossing your legs to get comfortable.

His arms are limp, but his posture is straight. He stares at the door as you tug on the knot of his bandages, watching as they loosen around his bicep. Slowly, you unwind the gauze, subconsciously holding in a breath and awaiting what lies beneath.

The graze has started to heal. The skin around it is a lighter shade of pink, and the wound itself has begun to mend. You’re relieved to see that there’s no blood dotting his skin. Out of the corner of your eye, Harry’s throat bobs with a heavy swallow.

“It looks good,” you murmur, unsure of whether you’re talking to him or to yourself.

He just nods again, remaining motionless as you wrap the gauze back around his arm. You redo the knot at the end, and then you have to physically restrain yourself from leaning forward and smoothing your lips over the concealed wound.

Instead, your hands fall to his wrist. Harry stiffens, but then relaxes when you lift his fingers up to your face. Your brows furrow as you study the chipped green varnish on his nails. He’s been choosing the same colour for weeks, now—you’re glad that he seems to like it.

“Do you want me to?” you ask softly, peering up at him through your lashes. You’ve never been in his company so late at night (whilst sober, at least) but you suppose that there’s a first time for everything.

“Yeah,” Harry mutters, fidgeting with the material of his sweatpants. “Please.”

You shoot him the tiniest smile imaginable, and then you stand, making your way into the washroom to retrieve the worn, well-loved nail kit hidden under the sink.

~*~

“Do you want to keep the green?”

He shakes his head. “No, let’s try something else.”

“Okay.” You nod, dumping the contents of the bag onto your mattress. Little, colourful glass bottles clink together as they roll out onto your duvet. You look up at Harry with a raised eyebrow, gesturing luridly to the selection laid out in front of him. “Take your pick.”

His gaze sweeps over each shade before he shrugs—you don’t miss the slight wince of pain that passes over his lips. “I can’t decide,” he says simply, and when he looks back up at you, he’s almost shy. “You choose.”

“You’re giving me a lot of power, you know,” you say wryly. A soft chuckle slips from his mouth. After a brief moment of deliberation, you settle on pastel yellow, holding up the bottle so that he can see it clearly. “This might be pretty.”

“Pretty,” he echoes, staring straight into your eyes. His gaze knocks the air from your lungs and leaves you wondering if he’s talking about the colour, or about…something else.

You give the tiny bottle a good shake, catching sight of your phone laying off to the side. Without thinking, you snatch it up from the duvet, unlocking it and tapping onto your music app.

You hand the device over to Harry. When he shoots you a confused look, you just say, “If I’m picking the shade, you can pick the songs. Seems fair to me.”

He smiles.

You screw open the cap of the nail polish, studying the consistency of the liquid inside. “I might need to apply two coats to make it opaque enough,” you mumble, mostly to yourself.

Harry just hums in agreement as he scrolls through your music library.

He eventually seems to settle on a decision, because just then, a soft, monotone note wafts out from your phone’s speaker. You recognize the tune right away.

“Girl Crush?” you ask, the corners of your lips kinking up into a nostalgic smile. “I would’ve never guessed.”

He returns your tender expression, tilting his head to the side sheepishly. “It’s a nice song.”

“It is,” you concur. A sharp spark passes between your fingers when you reach for his hand, but neither of you comment on it. “Okay,” you say, shooting him a faux-menacing look. “Don’t move.”

The two of you sit in silence for the next ten minutes. You’re meticulous as you paint the varnish onto each one of Harry’s nails, your tongue caught between your teeth and your brow furrowed in concentration. You can feel him staring at you—he’s practically burning a hole through your head—but you say nothing, mostly because a small part of you is enjoying the attention.

“What were you doing before I showed up?” Harry asks quietly, breaking the silence.

“Working on a presentation for my seminar class,” you hum, dipping the nail brush back into its bottle. “It’s due Friday.”

“Are you nearly finished with it?”

You shake your head. “Not even close.”

“Love,” he starts, and you think you hear a hint of admonishment creeping into his tone. “Why’re you wasting your time giving me a bloody manicure?”

“Don’t worry about it.” You wave away his qualms with an absentminded flick of your hand. “I’ll get it done; I promise.” You pause for a moment, puckering your lips before you add, “Plus, I like doing your nails. It’s therapeutic.”

“Therapeutic,” he repeats. It’s obvious that he doesn’t believe you.

“Yeah,” you nod, blowing cool air over his fingers. “It’s nice—this. Us.”

He doesn’t reply.

You start on his other hand, careful with your ministrations. The memory of his closing wound is still fresh in your mind, and you don’t want to risk any sudden movements that might open it back up. You work noiselessly for the next few minutes.

“It’s weird seeing you dressed like this,” you murmur suddenly. The words slip out before you have the time to register them.

Harry chuckles faintly. “I’m usually on-duty, aren’t I?” When you nod, he continues: “Plus, we’ve never done this so late at night.”

“We can,” you say, perhaps a little too quickly. Your ears grow hot with embarrassment, and you’re suddenly extremely grateful for the fact that you have an excuse to not look at him. You stare hard at the rings on his fingers, swallowing heavily. “I mean…if you want. I’m sure it’s more comfortable sitting in sweatpants instead of slacks.”

“Don’t you have an early class on Thursdays, though?” Harry cocks an eyebrow, his question ripe with subtle mockery.

You chew on your bottom lip and refrain from telling him that you’ll happily show up to class with bags under your eyes if it means spending more of your time like this—with him. “Oh. Right.”

He laughs softly, and silence falls over the two of you once more. Just when you think that your conversation has tapered off for the night, he addresses the elephant in the room that you’ve both been trying your hardest to ignore.

“I’m sorry about the other day.”

You freeze, nearly smearing a glob of yellow onto the cuticle of his pinky. When you offer up nothing in response, Harry persists.

“I’m sorry I made you cry,” he mutters, lowering his head in shame. “I hated seeing you like that.”

You look up at him with wide, shining eyes. You’ve never witnessed him so full of remorse—the sight makes your heart ache.

“It’s okay,” you tell him, discarding the nail brush back into the pot of bright varnish. “I—you were probably right, anyway. It’s too dangerous.”

“No.” He purses his lips. “I think I was just being selfish. I was…trying to protect my ego.”

“What do you mean?” you ask softly.

His fingers flex when you stroke over the rough skin of his knuckles. He sighs.

“It’s my job to keep you safe,” he says. The words are slightly strained. “And I nearly failed.”

“But you didn’t,” you say, leaning forward.

“But I almost did!” he counters. You recoil, stunned by the emotion in his voice. He clears his throat and covers your hands with his. You can’t even be bothered to worry about the fact that his nails might ruin.

“When you told me that you were going out again, and so soon…,” Harry trails off, shaking his head. “I panicked, and I tried to take control. I’m sorry.”

You squeeze his wrists comfortingly and nod. “It’s alright,” you say thickly. “I forgive you.”

He blows out a relieved sigh, straightening up and blinking rapidly. Just like that, all evidence of his personal sentiments is gone. He can turn his feelings on and off so quickly—you suppose that it’s necessary in his line of work. Still, though…you don’t know whether to be annoyed or impressed.

“You should go to Sydney’s birthday,” he states matter-of-factly.

A small smile forms on your face. “I—are you serious?”

“Yeah.” He bobs his head in approval. “But I’m coming, too, obviously. Need to make sure you stay out of trouble.”

Your modest smile grows into a bright grin. Somewhere beneath your vibrant excitement, you realise that both of your hands are still tucked tightly between his.

“Escorted to a party by my hot, British bodyguard,” you tease. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

October 17, 2020

The club is packed. You can barely move, squished between perspiring bodies and gyrating hips. You can’t even see the bar because of how many people are crowding the counter, waiting to order their drinks. It’s dark, and hot, and the air smells of sweat and desire—typical.

Under normal circumstances, you would’ve never come out on a Saturday night. The pros simply do not outweigh the cons.

Thankfully, though, these aren’t normal circumstances.

The booth that Sydney has rented is a beacon of hope, a little island of peace in the surrounding sea of chaos. You’re right next to the birthday girl, laughing at how captivated she is by the song booming through the building. She wraps one arm around you, tilting her head up and accepting another swig of vodka straight from the bottle.

The rest of your friends are scattered. Some are with you, lounging in the booth and drunkenly screaming lyrics up at the ceiling. Others are out on the dance floor, blending into the crowd and twirling around without a care in the world.

Sydney is plastered; you’re not too far behind.

A quick glimpse at your phone tells you that it’s a few minutes past one in the morning. It also makes you realise just how badly you need to pee.

There’s a man standing near the bar—he’s been eyeing you unsubtly all night. From what you can tell, he’s cute. A baby blue button-up hugs his shoulders nicely, and his blonde, shaggy hair is swept sideways on his forehead. He’s tall and handsome, and you don’t think you’d mind kissing him. As you inch your way toward the edge of the booth, a large part of you wonders why you haven’t already made a move.

You trip over your own two feet as you stand, and you’re sure that you would have broken your fall with your face if it weren’t for the strong pair of arms that catch you mid-tumble.

And oh. It comes rushing back to you, wrapped up in stark clarity.

That’s why.

Harry’s pained grunt reverberates lowly in your ear. With a loud gasp, you realise that your fingers are digging loosely into his injured bicep.

“I’m so sorry!” you yell over the music as he helps you back onto your feet. “Are you okay?”

He just nods, shaking off his discomfort and clenching his jaw.

He hasn’t moved from the edge of the booth all night. He’s been standing there for hours, untouched by the turbulent current of drunk socialites. You suppose that it’s because he appears to be just another member of security, watching the crowd and ensuring that everyone is staying safe.

“Where are you going?” Harry shouts. His question is barely audible, swept away by the basslines vibrating through your body.

“Bathroom!” you yell back.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

A laugh bubbles up in your throat. You pat his shoulder gently and shake your head. “I think I’m perfectly capable of taking a piss by myself! Thank you, though!”

He frowns, looking like he wants to argue. When he sees the expectant, mocking expression on your face, however, he clamps his mouth shut.

You shoot him an appreciative smile, tossing your thumb over your shoulder and barking out a quick promise of, “I’ll be right back!”

You’re pleased to discover that the washrooms of the club are split up into private cubicles rather than simply aggregated in one big space. The walls of the corridor are lined with doors and littered with a few drunken stragglers. You pass a man and a woman who are locked in a blazing kiss, and a hot pang of longing claws its way down your sternum, settling uncomfortably in the pit of your stomach.

The last cubicle on your right is vacant. Breathing out a quick prayer of thanks, you duck inside. There’s an empty shot glass standing on the edge of the sink, but other than that, the room is in good condition. You tug your underwear down as you position yourself above the toilet, clutching the hem of your dress close to your chest and doing what you came to do.

Two minutes and one flush later, you’re screwing open the faucet, sighing happily as cool water runs over your wrists. To your right, a dispenser containing lavender-scented soap is nailed into the wall. You wash your hands quickly before wringing them out and wiping the excess wetness against your thighs.

When you open the washroom door, you freeze in your tracks. A man—that same man who’s been making eyes at you all night—is standing in the threshold.

He’s even taller in person. And now that you’re closer to him (and shrouded in better lighting) you can see that his hair isn’t blonde like you’d originally thought, but light brown. His eyes are a stark shade of cobalt blue, attentive enough to indicate that he might be one of the only sober people in the entire building.

“Hi.” His voice is as smooth as velvet.

“Hi,” you reply, offering up a small, wary smile. He’s cute, but who the fuck tries to pick a woman up as she exits the bathroom?

“My name’s Lukas,” he says, holding out his hand. You take it gingerly, quietly introducing yourself in return. He smiles at the mention of your name. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too.” You stand on your tiptoes, peering over his shoulder and chewing on your bottom lip. “Sorry, my friends are waiting—”

“That’s a pretty dress,” Lukas tells you, placing his hands on either side of the doorway. Somewhere beneath the buzz of alcohol in your system, you’re aware that he’s successfully blocked your only way out. He takes a step toward you, and you match it with a step back, nearly tripping over a shallow crack in one of the tiles on the floor.

“Thanks,” you say, your lips curling into a dim scowl, “but I really should be going.”

“Or we could hang out in here,” he suggests, shrugging innocently (in the back of your mind, you know that his thoughts must be the furthest thing from innocent.) “Just the two of us.”

“No, thanks.” You shake your head vehemently. Your palm finds a place on the wall, and you use the leverage to keep yourself steady. Your eyes rake down his body as he inches toward you, searching for any potential weak points.

Elbow to the nose? Knee to the groin?

Just then, a gruff utterance of your name is heard from out in the hall. You nearly sob in relief.

“Harry!”

Less than a moment later, a large, sweaty hand slaps down over your mouth. You squeal, frightened tears rushing to your eyes as Lukas heaves you up against the wall. He digs his fingers into the column of your throat, keeping you pinned with one hand while the other reaches for the door, aiming to slam it shut.

Before it can close all the way, a strong, ringed hand appears out of nowhere, shoving the barrier back open. Hinges creak as the doorknob crashes into the side of the wall, nearly putting a hole through the plaster.

Harry’s nostrils flare as he absorbs the scene laid out in front of him. Only a second passes before he’s stalking inside the cubicle, his mossy eyes alight with one palpable emotion: rage.

“Get the fuck off of her!” he bellows.

His palms make contact with Lukas’ shoulders, and he uses the brunt of his weight to shove him away from you. The other man goes tumbling into the opposite wall, almost stumbling over the porcelain bowl of the toilet.

“The fuck is your problem?” Lukas snaps, rubbing the back of his head as he regains his bearings.

Harry pulls you out of harm’s way, putting himself between you and your aggressor. You watch the scene unfold from behind him, anxiously fumbling with the hem of your dress.

“Don’t—,” Harry points at Lukas threateningly. His voice has returned to its normal, low octave, but you can still hear the fury simmering beneath his words, “—ever fucking touch her again.”

Lukas pushes himself off of the wall, cracking his knuckles and angling his head to the side. His blue irises glimmer maliciously as he looks over at you.

“Is this your boyfriend, sweetheart?” he asks. The words are nothing but a wicked taunt. He sizes Harry up, assessing his figure.

You watch his eyes widen when they land on the pale yellow polish decorating your bodyguard’s nails, and then—much to your horrified surprise—he laughs.

“Oh, my mistake.” He shakes his head, a spiteful smile splitting across his face. “He’s just a fuckin’ faggot.”

Harry doesn’t react to the insult—but you do. Before you can even register your actions, you’re slipping out from behind him, lifting your arm high into the air and delivering a sharp, backhanded blow to Lukas’ right cheek.

Your knuckles sting at the contact, but the pain is overshadowed by the smug sense of vindication that settles in your chest. Anger warps your features, turning you into someone unrecognizable.

“How dare—?”

The rest of your sentence dissolves into an alarmed shriek when Lukas seizes your wrist. He snarls.

“Know your place, bitch!”

You brace yourself for his retaliation, but the strike never comes. In the blink of an eye, Harry has Lukas’ arm pinned behind his back. Blue eyes well up with agony, and a pained shout slips from his lips. You recoil, startled by the sudden shift of power.

Harry leans down, his mouth just above Lukas’ ear. He glances up at you briefly before looking back down at the cowering man before him. In that moment, your gazes meet for only a millisecond, but the contact somehow puts you at ease.

“Apologise to the lady,” Harry mutters, pulling Lukas’ arm even tighter across his back. “Or I break it.”

Lukas whimpers, glaring up at you with angry eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he spits out, though there’s no sincerity behind the phrase.

Wordlessly, you lift your chin, spinning on your heel and making your way toward the door. Behind you, a surprised yelp slices through the air, followed quickly by a violent thud. When you peer back over your shoulder, Harry is brushing his palms off on the lapels of his suit, and Lukas is kneeling over the toilet, his chest heaving.

“Harry,” you say, calling him over. You hope that neither of the men can hear the slight quiver in your voice.

Harry approaches you, and you reach out for him. He offers you his uninjured arm; you link your elbow through the gap between his bicep and his torso.

You expect it to end there, but then Lukas mutters something unfamiliar under his breath. The words are nearly indiscernible, but you know for a fact that they’re definitely not English. Harry must hear them too, because he freezes in his tracks.

“Harry,” you say, tugging gently at his sleeve. “Harry, what’s wrong?”

“Say goodbye to your friends,” he replies bluntly, dodging your question. “We’re leaving. Right now.”

~*~

The journey back home is painfully quiet.

Harry says nothing until the car drags through the metal gates of your property and peels up the roundabout leading to your front door. Once your chauffeur cuts the engine, Harry turns to him, shaking his hand firmly and thanking him for the ride. You bid the man goodnight, catching his kind smile in the rear-view mirror.

He seems nice. You should probably learn his name.

But that can wait.

The effects of the alcohol in your system seem to have worn off. You attribute your sobriety to the fact that you were cornered and nearly attacked in a public bathroom not too long ago. You’re still a bit wobbly on your feet—not to mention the loud, persistent ringing in your ears—but your mind is clear. That’s all that matters.

Harry leads you inside, cupping his palm beneath your bent elbow and keeping you steady. Part of you longs for him to slide his hand closer and trail his fingers down your back until they’re tickling the base of your spine. But that would be unprofessional, you remind yourself, so you keep your mouth shut.

Walking into your room fails to bring you the familiar sense of comfort that it usually does. You swallow heavily, kicking off your heels (these ones aren’t embellished with any straps or buckles, thank God) and making your way over to your bed. As you approach your mattress, your fingers find their way to your back, grasping for the zipper of your dress that’s settled just above your shoulder blades.

You grit your teeth in frustration, stopping suddenly and casting a glance behind you. Harry is waiting at your door, standing rigidly with his hands clasped tightly in front of him.

“Can you…?” Your question is hushed and incomplete, and you don’t wait for his reaction before turning back around. The sound of his low footsteps reaches your ears; your skin prickles in anticipation.

His fingers are gentle as they tug your zipper down. He’s close—closer than usual. You can feel his warm, laboured breaths puffing out against the nape of your neck.

Harry pauses when he drags the zipper past the middle of your back, exposing the clasp of your bra. His hands abandon your body, leaving you confused. Before you can question him, however, he’s fiddling with the little hooks on the undergarment. A moment later, the cups holding your cleavage in place loosen and slip lower on your chest. A soft, dazed gasp tumbles from your lips.

Harry then resumes his previous actions, unzipping your dress the rest of the way and stepping back once he’s finished. You face him, clutching the sagging fabric against your sternum to keep it from sliding down your torso.

“Thank you,” you murmur. Suddenly, the floor is a lot more interesting than the man standing before you.

Harry just grunts in response.

You hesitate, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip. There’s a palpable tension hanging in the air; you feel like it might suffocate you if you don’t voice the question dancing on the tip of your tongue.

“What was it?” you ask quietly, refusing to take your eyes off of the ground. “In the washroom, before we left—what did he say? It wasn’t English—”

“French,” Harry cuts in. You pause, clamping your mouth shut and waiting for him to continue, but he doesn’t add anything else.

“What did he say?” you repeat. Beneath the loose, shapeless material of your dress, your heart is beating a mile a minute.

“Nothing,” Harry utters after a long moment of silence. “At least, nothing that you need to worry abo—”

“You’re lying,” you seethe, and the abrupt wave of irritation that washes over you is enough to make your head snap up. Your gaze burns into his face, lips curled down into a vivid scowl.

“Harry—,” you say, reaching out with one hand and shoving helplessly at his chest. He doesn’t budge, of course—the realisation only makes you angrier. “Stop lying to me.”

He clenches his jaw, and strong, slender fingers circle around your wrist before you can pull away. You squawk in surprise, your brows knitting together at the suddenness of the contact. Harry’s green eyes blaze with an emotion that you can’t quite recognize, but even then, it still leaves you utterly breathless.

You watch, stupefied, as he slides his palm beneath yours, lifting your hand to his lips and pressing a soft, barely-there kiss to the hills of your knuckles. Your jaw slackens, but—for the first time in your life—you have no witty comeback, no sharp retort.

“Une putain gâtée, tout comme sa mère.”

The words are a low murmur. His mouth brushes against your skin as he speaks. You’re enthralled by his French accent, but the sour expression on his face tells you that he must’ve just said something rotten.

“A spoiled whore,” Harry translates—he looks almost ashamed, “just like her mother.”

Your hand slips from his grasp.

October 18, 2020

You’ve been in your room all day.

Harry hasn’t moved from his station outside, standing in front of your door with his arms folded over his chest. It’s been hours, and he hasn’t heard a peep from you. As much as he hates to admit it, he’s bored. You’re usually right next to him, talking his ear off and being your bossy, teasing self. He misses all of your little quips, not to mention the devilish smiles that you give him when you take a shot at pushing his buttons.

Now though, the silence is getting to him. He considers pulling his phone out and indulging in a trivial little game to pass the time, but then ultimately decides against it. The sun has fallen from the sky, and the moon has risen in its place—his shift is nearly over.

His cellphone chimes from inside his pocket. He fishes around for the device, eventually tugging it from the depths of his trousers. When he taps onto the screen, he finds a text from Lana, your personal chef.

Her dinner is ready. Do you want me to bring it up?

Harry purses his lips before typing his reply.

No, I’ll come down. Thank you.

A single smiling emoticon is her response.

After retrieving your plate from the kitchen and bidding Lana goodnight, Harry makes his way back upstairs. He stalls in front of your door for a few seconds before shaking off his uncertainties. His fist raps three times against the wood, and he waits expectantly for your answering call.

His shoulders deflate in relief when he hears a faint, yet familiar, “Come in.”

The room is dark, illuminated only by a small lamp on your nightstand. You’re lying on your bed, spine against the mattress and eyes trained on the ceiling. Your hair is fanned out against your pillow, and you haven’t changed out of your sleepwear (though it’s late now, Harry supposes, so there’s really no need). Cotton shorts sit low on your hips, but thankfully, your t-shirt is covering everything that needs to be concealed. When you turn your head toward the door, Harry notices that your eyes are rimmed with red.

You’ve been crying. The realisation makes his chest ache.

“Hi,” he says quietly, approaching your bed with cautious footsteps.

“Hi,” you croak. You sit up and clear your throat.

He holds out your plate. “Dinner is served.”

“It’s almost midnight.”

“That’s true.” He tilts his head from side to side, acknowledging your words. “But you haven’t eaten all day.”

“You don’t know that for sure,” you mumble, though you take the dish from him with eager hands, confirming his hypothesis. “Mac n’ cheese?” you ask, peering up at him with wide eyes.

He nods. “Compliments of the chef. She said it was your ‘comfort food’, or something like that.”

You pick up the spoon resting on the side of your plate, dipping it into the pasta and scooping up a large bite. Flavour explodes across your tongue, and you hum in appreciation at the taste. “Lana’s the best.”

Harry doesn’t respond. When you look over in his direction, you find him standing awkwardly at the side of your bed, like he’s not quite sure where to go.

“Do you want to sit?” you ask through a mouthful of food. His lips twitch at the warbled quality of your voice.

“No, I—,” he starts, shaking his head. “I can leave you alone.”

You swallow heavily, running your tongue along the roof of your mouth. “Stay,” you tell him, averting your gaze. The softness of your tone makes him pause, but you just shrug. “I don’t really want to be alone right now.”

~*~

You finish the entire plate of macaroni in a matter of minutes. Harry doesn’t think he’s ever seen you scarf down food that quickly. You offered him a bite, but he turned it down, claiming that you needed it more than he did.

He was right, of course. But you would rather die than tell him as much.

You set the dish down onto your nightstand, snatching up the reusable water bottle on the corner of the little table. Harry watches, amused, as you take a large gulp of the contents inside. Once you’ve swallowed, you chance a glance over at where he’s sitting on the edge of your mattress. There’s a small smile playing on his lips.

“What?” you ask wryly.

He chuckles lightly. “Nothing.”

You smirk but decide to drop the subject.

Harry shifts, rubbing his palms over his thighs nervously. “How are you feeling?”

You look away—you knew that he would try to breach the topic of last night, but the question is still a punch to the gut.

You shrug wordlessly. He clucks his tongue.

“That’s not an answer, love.”

Your shoulders slump in defeat. A loose thread on your duvet catches your eye, and you twine it around your index finger. Another long moment of silence passes before you finally speak.

“I’m just…confused.”

“Confused?” Harry’s eyebrows knit together.

You nod.

“How so?”

A rushed, humourless laugh falls from your lips. “You’re joking, right?”

When Harry shakes his head, you sigh.

“All my life,” you say, a lump forming in your throat, “I’ve been kept in the dark. Do you know how embarrassing it is, as a little kid, to not have an answer when your friends ask what your parents do for a living?” You wrap your arms around your torso, hugging yourself tightly.

“I even used to joke about it at school,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. “‘Yeah, guys, my mom’s secretly a drug dealer!’”

Harry doesn’t say anything. You take his reticence as a sign to continue.

“But then, as I got older, I realised that maybe I wasn’t that far off. She might not be in a fucking drug ring, but she’s still doing something illegal. There’s no way that we could afford to live like this, otherwise.” You gesture toward the glossy chandelier hanging from your ceiling.

“And then you came into the picture,” you say, rubbing tiredly at your eyes. “And that’s when I really started to panic. But I didn’t want to show anyone how I was feeling, obviously—so I kind of just kept it all bottled up.”

“Until now,” Harry murmurs, his expression unreadable.

You nod. “Until now.”

The material of your t-shirt is twisted up in your fists. You exhale heavily, releasing the fabric and smoothing it out with your palms. Several long seconds of tranquility ensue, until—

“Arms.”

Your gaze snaps over to Harry. “What?”

“Arms,” he repeats gruffly, staring directly at you. “She’s not dealing drugs. She’s dealing arms.”

You sit back against the headboard as his words sink in. Silence hangs in the air, growing thicker by the moment. Your mouth opens as you try to make sense of this newly-revealed information, but your lips only form around dying sounds and nonexistent sentences. Eventually, you settle for a simple, “Huh.”

And despite the trepidation of the situation, Harry laughs.

The sound brings a small smile to your face. It quickly slips away, however, when you remember something else.

“Last night, the guy at the club…,” you trail off, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “I don’t think what he said was just an expression.”

Harry’s eyes are solemn. “Neither do I.”

“He told me his name was Lukas,” you say, straightening up. “Has my mother ever mentioned him before?”

He shakes his head.

“I don’t know anything else,” he replies. Deep down, you recognize that he’s telling the truth. “She only shares things with me when it’s absolutely necessary. My job—first and foremost—is to protect you. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you say quickly, shifting closer to him. Harry stiffens briefly when you place your hand on his arm, but then relaxes again. The fabric of his suit is soft, pressed to perfection. “I—thank you for being honest with me. I feel better now that I know.”

He nods.

“And thank you for yesterday,” you add, swallowing heavily. “For keeping me safe.”

“Next time, I’m accompanying you to the bathroom,” he mutters. “End of discussion.”

You laugh. A tiny, barely-there smile creeps onto his lips. Your eyes fall to the yellow polish on his nails, and you hesitate.

“Harry,” you say. Anxiety unfurls in your stomach. “Can I ask you something?”

“’Course.” His voice is a low rumble. “What is it?”

“Last week,” you mumble, fidgeting with your fingers, “after you got shot—or grazed, whatever you want to call it—”

He freezes. You have a strong feeling that he knows where you’re going with this.

“You said—”

“I know what I said.”

I would take a bullet for you, no questions asked.

Your mouth goes dry. Harry won’t look you in the eye, but you refuse to let him shy away. You squeeze his forearm softly, hoping that the contact will prompt him to meet your gaze.

It does. When he peers up at you, the green of his irises sets off a series of echoes in your head.

And not just because it’s my job.

“Why did you?” you whisper, leaning toward him.

He blinks, embarrassed.

“You know why,” he grumbles, staring fixedly at your duvet. A loose strand of hair flops onto his temple as he shakes his head. “Don’t make me say it.”

Something shatters inside of you. Impulsively, you lurch forward, pressing a quick, chaste kiss to the corner of his lips.

Harry’s face snaps toward you as you sit back. You’re greeted by wide eyes, foreign and unrecognizable, and seemingly unable to make out who you are. The small mountain of hope that had been growing in your chest crumbles into nothing, scattering like dust in the wind.

You clench your jaw, trying to keep yourself composed. He’s looking at you like you’re a stranger.

“Sorry,” you sputter. Panic washes over you, and your eyes prick with the telltale sign of tears. “Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry—”

Just as it had last week, Harry’s hand finds your face, squishing your cheeks together and cutting off your apologies. You gaze up at him as he leans in; he’s shaking his head ever-so-slightly.

“Why would you do that?” he asks, and it almost sounds like he’s berating you. “Why would you—?”

“I’m sorry,” you eek out. Water beads along your bottom lashes.

“I’ve been trying so hard,” he carries on, smoothly disregarding your regrets. “Trying to keep myself from—”

He breaks off, gritting his teeth and staring directly into your eyes. His next words are stern, finite.

“It doesn’t fucking matter anymore.”

His fingers release your cheeks and migrate to the back of your neck. He uses the leverage to pull you in so that you can meet him halfway, and then he’s kissing you. It takes a moment for everything to register in your brain, but soon thereafter, you’re melting into him and kissing him right back.

You grip the lapels of his suit between tight fists, tugging him closer as you pour every ounce of yourself into his embrace. Harry’s lips work fervently against your own; the palm on the back of your neck slips lower, settling at the base of your spine. His other hand comes up, splitting apart so that his thumb and middle finger find themselves on each side of your jaw. The grip is bruising, unforgiving—you whimper in delight.

“This is—,” Harry can barely get the words out. “—unprofessional.”

“It is,” you murmur, nodding fiercely.

“We shouldn’t,” he says.

“We shouldn’t,” you agree breathlessly.

But neither of you stop.

Harry lays you down on your bed, climbing on top of you whilst still doing his best to keep your lips attached. Your hands slip beneath his suit jacket, fingertips digging into his back over the white button-up covering his torso.

“You’re wearing too much,” you whine once the two of you break apart for air.

He chuckles, pushing himself up onto his knees. You watch, awestruck, as he fiddles with the buttons lining his abdomen, undoing each one swiftly before yanking the jacket from his shoulders. A shadow of pain passes over his features.

“Careful,” you say softly, referring to his injured arm.

He doesn’t reply. Instead, he brings himself back down to where you are, wasting no time and dipping his tongue into your mouth.

“Mm,” he hums, smacking his lips together. “Mac n’ cheese.”

You giggle. “Guess you got a taste, after all.”

He nods, smirking. “In all honesty, though,” he murmurs, his lips smearing against the lower-half of your cheek, “I’d much rather get a taste of something else.”

He punctuates the innuendo with a gentle bite to your jaw, and you moan.

It doesn’t take long for his hand to travel south. Harry gives you a questioning look when his fingers reach the elastic waistband of your shorts.

“Can I?”

You nod.

He curses when the digits slip beneath the fabric, because you’re not wearing anything underneath. His palm scrapes over the triangle of trimmed hair at the apex of your thighs, and he nearly starts salivating right then and there. You whine impatiently, bucking your hips up to spur him along.

He chuckles, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your neck. “Gagging for it, aren’t you?”

A strangled squeak echoes in the back of your throat, but you say nothing.

“Answer me,” Harry growls, nipping softly at your earlobe. “Tell me you want it.”

“I want it!” you choke out. You wrap your fingers around his forearm, guiding his hand lower so that he can feel just how wet you are. “Please—I want it.”

“So polite,” he murmurs, sponging his lips up to your temple. Your eyelids flutter shut when he begins to rub languid circles into your clit. “Where are those manners usually hiding, hm?”

“Harry—,” you sigh, feeling your face grow hot. You’ll never admit it, but his taunts stoke the fire building in the pit of your stomach. He laughs darkly, sliding his middle finger down your slit and prodding coyly at your entrance.

“You’re soaked, and I’ve barely done anything,” he mutters. His thumb stays positioned squarely on your clit as he lowers his head, pecking your lips delicately. “Want me inside?”

You nod, but he only tuts in disapproval.

“Words, love.”

“Yes!” you whine, pouting deeply. “I—I want you inside.”

He smiles.

You squirm when he slips his finger into you, adjusting to the intrusion. Harry probes around curiously, stroking along your walls until he brushes against a spot that has you crying out in thrilled surprise and squeezing your eyes shut. The patronizing laugh that falls from his mouth is hot and heavy against your warm cheeks.

“That’s it, yeah?” he asks. “That’s the spot?”

You breathe out a weak whimper of confirmation, and he snickers. When he peers up at you and finds your eyes closed, a small frown tugs at the edges of his lips.

“Look at me, love,” he orders, adding another finger into your heat. “I wanna see you.”

You shake your head and turn away, face hot with humiliation. It’s good, though—it’s so, so good.

“Look at me,” Harry repeats, “and I’ll let you cum.”

It’s an offer that you can’t refuse.

Slowly, your eyelids flutter open. He grins at you, pride sweeping over his features. You keep your gaze trained on him, even when he speeds up the movements on your clit, his thumb rubbing quick shapes against the sensitive nub. Your back arches, toes curling into the duvet as your orgasm approaches. Harry kisses your lips, humming happily at the contact.

“Cum,” he commands quietly. “Cum for me, and then I’ll ruin this cute little cunt.”

The filthy promise has you falling apart.

He holds you tightly as your high washes over you, absorbing all of your little moans and cooing words of encouragement into your mouth. You shake, staring up at the ceiling and watching as the chandelier above you splits into doubles. The glass crystals twinkle alluringly in the dim light of your room.

“So pretty,” Harry whispers. He pecks the clammy skin of your cheek, and you sigh.

“That was…,” you trail off, unable to find the right words.

“Good?” he supplies, pulling his hand out of your shorts.

You bark out a weak, incredulous laugh. “Way better than ‘good’. I don’t think I can feel my—”

Your confession falters when you turn to the side, just in time to witness Harry slide two of his fingers past his lips. He groans desperately at the tang that spreads over his tongue.

“Sweet,” he murmurs, almost like he’s in a trance. He nuzzles his nose against yours, dropping his hand onto the bed next to your head. “You’ll let me have a proper taste next time, yeah?”

Without a second thought, you nod rapidly. “Yeah.”

Harry grunts in surprise when you push him off of you. His back lands against your mattress with a dull thud, and he chuckles faintly when you sling your leg over his waist, straddling him.

“What’re you doing?” he asks playfully as you begin to unbutton his white shirt. You pepper kisses down his chest, worshipping each new inch of skin that becomes exposed. His hands subconsciously find their way into your hair, gathering the bulk of it into a makeshift ponytail. Your clit positively throbs, ignited by the dominant undertones of the action.

“You got me off,” you say. Though the accompanying shrug of your shoulders is nonchalant, your heart is thundering beneath your ribcage. “Seems only fair, don’t you think?”

You undo his belt and flick open the button of his black trousers. Harry groans as you palm him over his slacks, sinking into the plush pillows cradling his head.

“Right,” he breathes. “Only fair.”

His cock twitches when you dip your hand into his boxers, and God, he thinks to himself as he shudders, he loves you.

~*~

You awaken in the middle of the night to sounds of restless shuffling. Your room is dark, engulfed in black. Blinking the sleep from your vision, you push yourself up, peering around and waiting for your eyes to grow accustomed to the obscurity of your surroundings.

The spot next to you on your mattress is still a bit warm, covered with wrinkled sheets. When you finally zero in on the source of the noise, you find Harry sitting in the armchair a few feet away from your bed. He’s slouching, his head supported only by a closed fist. His white shirt is draped over his shoulders, completely unbuttoned. Gray boxers sit low on his hips, revealing a pair of ferns inked into the skin just above his pelvis.

Not even five hours ago, you trailed your tongue along those very same tattoos.

“Harry?” you say groggily, and he freezes. “What—what are you doing?”

His eyes are bright, despite the encompassing darkness.

“I—,” he hesitates. “It’s alright. Go back to sleep.”

“Not unless you join me,” you retort. You slide your legs over the edge of the mattress so that you can face him properly. “What’s going on?”

He shrugs, avoiding your gaze. “We kind of just passed out, and…I wasn’t sure if you were comfortable with me, like, sleeping in your bed. I didn’t wanna cross any lines.”

You balk.

“Harry…,” you start, fixing him with a drowsy yet bewildered look. “You’ve literally had your fingers inside of me, and now you’re worried about crossing a line?”

A quiet chuckle of accountability falls from his lips; the sound makes you smile. You reach out with one hand, wiggling your fingers at him and tilting your head toward the rumpled pillows waiting for you.

“Come back to bed.” Your request is soft.

The storm in his eyes dissipates, and he obeys.

You sigh as you settle back underneath the duvet, snuggling into his side and tossing a leg over his thighs. Harry wraps his good arm around you, craning his neck and pressing a tender kiss to your hair. Your fingers creep up his chest, toying with the dog tag resting between his pectorals.

“Is this going to change things between us?” you ask in a small voice.

A long moment of silence ensues.

At last, Harry replies:

“I don’t know.”

You were expecting that kind of answer, but it still stings. A big part of you wants him to say no, things won’t change. He’ll still have you, and you’ll still have him, and the two of you will still bicker back and forth like children fighting over a candy bar. He’ll still roll his eyes at your antics whilst nevertheless being willing to take a bullet for you. You’ll still tease him relentlessly to mask the way your heart races whenever he’s around (which, unfortunately, is all the time).

But the logical side of your brain knows that those fantasies are just fabrications of flimsy, wishful thinking. The two of you have crossed a line—just like he said—and you can’t go back.

As though he can sense your inner turmoil, Harry squeezes you closer into his side. “I was looking online…,” he begins, and you peer up at him with curious eyes.

He meets your gaze—his chin creases adorably—and continues. “And I saw these cool photos of someone’s nails; they painted little cherries on them.”

“That sounds cute,” you mumble.

“It was.” He nods. “And I was thinking that maybe, on Wednesday…would you want to try something like that?”

Warmth spiderwebs through your chest.

The two of you have crossed a line, and you can’t go back.

But you can move forward. And perhaps better things are waiting on the horizons up ahead.

“It might not turn out like the pictures,” you warn lightly. “I’ve never really done nail art before.”

“That’s alright,” Harry says, brushing your hair out of your face. “I just thought it’d be fun to give it a go.”

You lean up, slotting your lips against his. Harry cups your cheek, keeping you close. When the two of you finally break apart, you smile, running your thumb lovingly over the edge of his jaw.

“Remind me to pick up the tools tomorrow after class.”

~*~

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#harry writing #guardrry #making this my pinned post because i love her and she's one of my greatest creations ok 🥺🥺#harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #i'd love to know what u think! reblogs + feedback mean the world to me

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honeytama · 4 years

Text

Dear, I Think Something’s Wrong.

Husband!Spinner (Shuichi Iguchi) X Fem!Reader

A/N: I haven’t done this in a long time, so it’s kinda ehhh, but I really love this idea and I’m glad I got the motivation to write about it. Enjoy! Also, what’s up Spinner fuckers? Haven’t seen y’all in a hot moment.

Summary: Your husband, Shuichi, comes home with aching pains all over his body and with a harsh demeanor. The evening heats up once Spinner’s aches reach his groin; he can’t help but need to satiate himself using his lovely wife.

Warnings: Smut (18+), dubcon, marriage, sex pollen/sex quirk, light aggression, double penetration, lots of cum, and a bit ooc Spinner

Word Count: 1.8k

Masterlist

You hear the front door click open as you finish putting away folded laundry in the master bedroom.

“Spinner? C’mere, love!” You call out to the front of your apartment. You hear his boots and bag hit the wood flooring at the entrance before his footsteps approach you. “How have you been? I can’t believe it's been 2 weeks,” you smile and stride up to him as he reaches your bedroom doorway.

“Honestly, not well, honey.” Spinner rubs his hand across the back of his neck attempting to relieve tension. He smirks at you anyway, “But, seeing you makes it better.”

Placing a kiss on his cheek, you feel an unexpected warmth lingering on your lips once you depart. You shoo away the thought of the strange temperature of your reptilian husband's skin and focus on his response. “What’s wrong? Did you get injured while with Tomura?” You sit on the edge of the bed.

“There’s just so much—ah, fuck,” he begins to pull off his work clothes; his vest, pants, and scarves all end up laying in a pile next to you. “My muscles have never given me this much pain before.” You watch him stand before you in nothing but his underwear that clings tight to his front. While Spinner twists and stretches out his back, you gaze at a sight you haven’t seen in a while.

His strong Adonis’ belt creates a perfect trail for your eyes to follow down to his hard package. Looking even lower, the legs of his underwear are hiked up a bit above his large thigh muscles. You can’t help but want to reach out a hand to feel his scales under your fingertips like you could weeks ago.

Spinner has recently been out of town for weeks at a time doing who knows what; sometimes you’re afraid to ask. So, as newlyweds, you feel his absence has taken a toll on your relationship, especially, in the physical department. Your husband’s high libido used to keep you up for hours into the night when the League of Villains was based nearby. Now, you hope that when he returns home he’ll have enough energy to lift you into his lap to watch movies on the couch.

However, the prominent bulge in his briefs gives you hope for tonight.

“Are you gonna touch me or what?” Shuichi hisses while towering over you.

“Wha—?” The sudden change in his tone startles you a bit, so you push yourself back on the bed giving space between you two.

“The second I get back from being away from my gorgeous wife,” he reaches out to wrap his hand around your ankle to pull you back to him, “and you can’t even jump at the chance to please me?”

Sorry? “It's just that I haven't seen you, and those, like this in a while.” Spinner has always been so sweet to you even in an argument, so his harsh tone worries you. Yet, you can’t help feeling turned on by this change. “What’s gotten into you, Spinner?”

His chest rises and falls quickly; his pecs seem to be more bulged and swollen than normal.

“The fact that you’re not already on your hands and knees for your husband,” he growls. “Lift up your hips.”

You do as you're told. His claws scratch your sides and your shorts and underwear are ripped from your body in one go. Figuring he won’t give any mercy to your top, you decide to prop yourself up to pull it over your head. The garments are thrown to the floor and you’re left there laying completely vulnerable.

He dips down to leave over your figure. His pointed tongue rolls out of his mouth and a drop of drool falls from the tip; it pools on your chest before rolling down your stomach making you shiver.

“Finally, I can use you,” he hisses. He smacks the side of your thigh, signaling you to follow his orders completely. You roll over and take the stance he craves. Your arms are bent on the mattress, and your knees are spread enough to give him the arch in your back he usually loves so much. “Yeah, yeah, just like that…”

Spinner pulls down the front of his briefs to let his heavy cocks fling out. You listen to the familiar clicking of his hand wrapped around both shafts at once to properly slick them up before entering you. But, he didn’t use lube did he?

“Ah—,“ you gasp. He rubs himself up and down your slit; his thick pre cum coats the insides of your thighs and it drips to the white sheets beneath you. Your heart beats fast in your chest as two conflicting thoughts fight each other in your mind. On one hand, you’re afraid of what unexpected things he might do to you. On the other, you want him to try something new. It’s pretty tiring to get your shy husband to let himself go.

“Hssst,” Spinner breathes in quickly through his teeth as he begins pressing into you without warning. “Fuck,” he moans. Even without seeing his face you know his tonight has fallen out of his mouth again by feeling the warm drool on your back.

“T-too much, baby” you whine. With your lips in an “o” shape, you breathe heavily through his relentless pushing. The duvet beneath you gets pulled into your fists. “Please, slow, slow, slow,” you cry.

“Fuck,” he groans. A final shove let’s his cocks glide against your walls to bottom out.

“Shuichi—,” you yell out his name but his first full thrust makes your breath catch in your throat.

His hands keep steady on your hips to keep them in place as his thrusts relentlessly into your fluttering pussy. “You’re not getting away until I get what I need.” Spinner readjusts his angle by lifting a leg up to the right of you. His new kneeling position makes you scream into the mattress. He so, so deep. Every thrust of his hips sends his cocks to punch into the back of your inner walls. Your hands fly to your mouth and your eyelids clench down at this immense pleasure.

“Make me cum, please,” you muffle out from your hands covering your mouth in hopes to conceal your screams from your next door neighbors.

“Tch.”

“Ah, ah, ahh,” you pant as your eyes roll back. You feel yourself clench around him before a stream of liquid releases from deep inside of you. You coat his pair of cocks in your own cum.

“Shuichii,” your voice diminishes to a whimper as you feel yourself get full with his hot, thick cum. You clench your pussy and feel some drip out and down the inner part of your thigh. He doesn’t pull out yet though, so you shiver against him as his cum cools down rolling down your leg.

“Y/N…,” you hear Spinner’s voice lighten up. He pulls his still hard cocks out of you and watches his second load drools from your stretched-out cunt.

“Honey?”

“I’m so sorry for treating you so badly,” he cries out. A bit of his usual personality has returned since you’ve satiated him partially.

“I know, I know,” you say lovingly. His pink hair comes into view as he leans over you. You’re ready for his sensitive conscience to drive him to apologize to you profusely for the next week. You gasp when he enters you again.

“M-my apologies, dear,” he presses his snout roughly against your ear. The rumble of his voice sends shivers down the back of your neck and your pussy clenches around his appendages tightly in response. The tip of his dicks massages the furthest part of your cunny as he pumps himself quickly, barely pulling out before pushing back in. “I-I don't know-ow — what’s wrong with me, love.”

He lightly wraps his hand on your neck and pulls your head to the side to kiss you passionately on the lips.

“Please—,” you manage to squeak out in between thrusts. “Please, please, baby, slow d—,” your cheek gets pushed into the plush duvet before you can finish.

“Ah—!,” he throws his head back. “I’m so, so sorry!”

“Keep going, I missed this, Spinner,” you pant. Your backside stings as his nails dig into the flesh of your waist. His strong hands pull your lower half against his groin repeatedly. the squelching sound of his thick precum rubbing the inside of your walls plays in tandem with the smack of your thighs against his.

“Haah... uugh... aaah,” Spinner’s sounds toss between grunts and whimpers with every thrust.

You figure that his main goal is to get off; this is either because he’s so pent up from not having pleased himself, it’s just an effect of his quirk, or... “Baby, ahh,” you moan trying to start your sentence. “Did y-you fight anyone today? Hnng.” Your eyes roll back into your head but you try to pay attention to his next words closely.

“Yeah, yeah, shit!” He pants heavily. “Some shithead tried to mess with me on my way home to you baby.” Suddenly he pulls both of himself out of you, giving your exhausted body a break for a moment. “Flip over, now,” he commands.

You playfully roll your eyes while rolling onto your back. As you spread your legs, his warm liquid drips from you in loads right onto the freshly cleaned bedding.

Without any warning, he pushes your thighs back towards your chest and presses himself into your weeping pussy. “Spinnerrr,” you moan.

“You take me so well. Now, please make me cum, again,” his dark eyes pierce into yours. His face holds both domineering and desperate expressions.

“The guy who fucked with you earlier must have had a quirk to make you need to have sex,” You say out loud. You’ve heard stories of this sort of thing happening before, but you never thought it would happen to your husband. By instinct, you wrap your arms around his thighs to prepare for his deep strokes.

“Dammit,” he hisses. “I guess it’s not so bad, now,” he grins while rocking his hips into you. “But, there’s no way I’m stopping any time soon. This quirk’s effect lasts for hours. And, I don’t want to stop.” He blushes so hard you see a roses tint creep under his green scales under his eyes. “I planned to make love to you once I got home, by the way. Even without the effects of this quirk.”

“Yeah, yeah, just keep going, babe,” you tease.

#spinner x reader #shuichi iguchi x reader #spinner #spinner bnha #bnha spinner #nsft #league of villians #shuichi iguchi

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nepenthendline · 4 years

Text

Gentle Loving - Tendou

A little N*FW at the end but mainly fluffy this is purely a self-indulgent fic of sucking tendou’s dick for the first time, featuring somewhat a bodyworship kink aka I want tendou to be loved, also kind of a smut alternative to insecurity i guess? It’s in the same setting and about the same stuff so you can read it as a part two or an alternative lol this also goes along with my mental health headcanons for tendou but I’ll keep it pretty vague

this is pretty damn long btw (2.5k words), I have a lot of tendou feelings ok

Tagging @togasknifes bc she had to sit through me complaining about this, and @pudding-head-kenma bc mingi

TW: very very slight, brief hint at self-harm scarring

The two of you had been cuddling in bed watching anime for the last couple hours; it was one of your favourite ways to spend time together while indulging in your hobby. You were tucked in his side with your arms wrapped tightly around his waist, and his around you. Every now and then, between comments of the action on the screen, he would lean down and brush kisses on the top of your head. His fingers grazed up and down your arm, setting your skin alight with his warmth. Even after months of being together his touch still managed to provoke the butterflies in your stomach, yet make you feel so calm and safe.

Your turned your head from his chest to look up at him. His wide, glowing eyes were entranced by the flashing of the screen, and his jawline seemed so chiselled from the shadow. The red hair that he shaved off a couple weeks ago had started to grow back in small, fuzzy waves that contrasted his smooth, pale skin. His pink lips were parted slightly and curled up in an anticipating smile; sometimes they even moved along with the words of the characters that he had heard so many times before. You’ve always thought of him as handsome, but right now, he really was the most beautiful sight in the world.

You leaned up from his grasp to plant a gentle kiss on the edge of his jaw, just like you had done many times before. His eyes trailed over to meet yours and gave you a sweet grin, then turning back to his laptop in front of him. Your gaze didn’t move though, as you tucked your head into his neck and placed tentative kisses along the skin, trailing from just below his ear to his collarbone. Your actions didn’t have much intention behind them besides enjoying the feeling of his burning skin against your lips, and his pulse that shook under your touch. As you were about to raise your head to repeat your actions, Tendou’s mouth had captured yours.

After a few first gentle kisses, you placed your hand on the back of his neck, pulling him closer. His tongue brushed against your lower lip, giving you permission to deepen your movements. With each kiss, your nose bumped against his, and his grip on your waist got tighter. This certainly wasn’t the first time the two of you had lost yourself in each other’s affection this way, but you had never progressed further. Whenever things seemed to get a little more heated, one of you would pull away and put out the flame to relight another day.

But there was something in you this time that wanted more. The way that his fingers dug into your hips, how his hair felt so soft in your touch, and how his eyes looked extraordinarily intense. You wanted to pour your love onto him, make him feel all the admiration and desire you felt for him.

Shuffling the laptop away with your hand, you moved your leg over to be seated on his lap. He didn’t seem to refuse your action in any way, so with both hands on either side of his face, you delved back in to the kiss. One of his hands had found its way into your hair, tugging it ever-so-slightly to keep your head close to his. You were both becoming breathless, but you’d rather suffocate in his love than stop.

One hand of yours moved to his hip, pushing his shirt upwards and stroking the skin under. He shuddered a little, either out of surprise or nervousness, but he didn’t stop you. Shuffling the shirt up even higher, your hand made it way to his exposed abdomen. Since you had started your journey up his body, his kisses had lost sync with yours; the steady tempo the two of you had created was gone, and he let out shaky breaths between each attempt. As your hand had moved slightly closer towards his chest, he swiftly moved to grab your wrist, stopping it.

“I-I’m sorry, did I go too far? We can stop if you want,” you stuttered, pulling back from him. He stared at you with a complex look, as if he was debating with himself.

“No, don’t be sorry. That was my fault. I...” his eyes didn’t meet yours as he spoke. You could tell he had more to say, but he appeared to be struggling with the words.

“What’s on your mind? You can talk to me, it’s ok,” you whispered to him, stroking his cheek with the hand that still rested there.

“Nothing, nothing, it’s fine,” he rushed out, spreading a fake wide smile on his face. He made a move to sit up further, but you stopped him, giving him a look that he knew he couldn’t escape this one like he had tried each time in the past. His gaze filtered through various points in the room but never once on you, thinking over the rush of thoughts in his head.

He let out an exasperated sigh and let his head fall back against his headboard, squeezing his eyes shut.

“I just...,” he sighed again and threw his arms over his eyes to cover his face from your concerned gaze, “fuck, I just don’t want you to take my clothes off and not like what you see,” he spoke fast, as if it would stop you from hearing his vulnerability. You sat still, quiet for a moment as you processed what he said.

“I would never not like how you look, Satori,” you murmured, somewhat to yourself in confusion. “I think your beautiful, and I might not have ever seen you with your shirt off but I’ve kinda already got the gist of what you look like. I chose you, and love you knowing what you look like, and I love it Satori, I do.” you stroked the back of his arms that covered his face in an attempt to soothe him. Honestly, you were just as nervous as him, but you put on a brave face to guide him through this like he always did for you. “I want to show you how perfect you are to me, if you’ll let me?”

Slowly, his arms lifted away from his face and rested by his side; his fingers reaching your thighs and lightly brushed over them. When he didn’t respond, you leaned in again and, delicately, placed a kiss on him. As you pulled away, he bit his lip and nodded. You confirmed with him that you could continue, then kissed him again, before laying him down so he was flat on the bed.

“Just let me know if you want me to stop, ok? We don’t go too far, I promise,” you kissed him once more, before tucking your head down to place kisses along his collarbones to distract him a little as you started to pull his shirt up from the bottom. He, shakily, helped you take it off and laid back down on the bed, clenching his eyes shut once more.

While he wasn’t as active as he used to be in high school, you could still see how years worth of training had moulded his body. He wasn’t ripped or buff by any means, but his shoulders were broad and his arms looked strong; they tensed and relaxed as his fingers fiddled with the duvet under him to calm himself. You placed a hand on his chest and felt as it shifted with every breathe of his. You had spent so much time resting your head on this part of his body, so it already took up a lot of room in your thoughts. His skin was soft and hot as your hand trailed down to his stomach. You leaned down and pressed a firm kiss to the left side of his chest below his collarbones, and slowly, dragged your lips across his torso. One of your hands moved across the bed to find his, and gripped it tightly as your mouth explored his body. He let out deep breath, quivering breaths with each touch, but he slowly relaxed under you. His eyelids remained closed, but their grip softened and the muscles in his face went slack.

“I love you,”

Your mouth worked further down his body, tasting at the skin just above the beginning of his jeans. Moving across, you nipped at his prominent hips, making his jump slightly.

“Sorry,” you giggled at his reaction, stroking your thumb over his knuckles.

“No, no, that was nice, you can carry on, please,” he seemed to be a little amused himself by his reaction, smiling along with you for the first time in a while. Your free hand reached up to find the button of his jeans.

“Can I?” he nodded at your question, so you steadily began to undo his jeans and pull them off his body. Before you could pull them any lower than the tops of his thighs, his hand came to stop you once more, but his grip was gentler, more relaxed than last time.

“You’re gonna see some things but we can talk about it later, just...ignore it for now,” he mumbled, letting go of your hand so you could continue. You didn’t know what he was hinting at, but you didn’t push further. With his help, you pulled off his jeans and let them fall on the floor beside the bed.

You were familiar with his long legs from the lower thigh downwards due to seeing him often in his volleyball uniform during school, but you still took the time to run your fingers down them, massaging them slightly and feeling his muscles flex under them.

“You’re so pretty, Satori,” you said as you leaned down to, once again, trail your kisses up his legs. “You’re doing so well baby.”

His breath trembled more the closer you go to the tops of his thighs, in a mix of pleasure and restlessness. With his free hand now stroking over your hair, he took in all the senses you gave; the warm, wet feeling on your lips on his body, the heat from your scalp in his hand and the smell of your lotion that he was so familiar with. He was so nervous, but his body couldn’t help but fall into your touch,

“I’m going to fall asleep at this rate,” he chuckled in a low voice. You apologised for your slow movements, but he rejected your words, “this is the best day of my life, I don’t know what your apologising for,” his voice was light with laughter, setting a smile on your face too. He had settled down in your motions, so you took this chance to slowly pull his boxers down his legs, letting them meet his jeans on the floor.

You didn’t move for a few moments as you took in the sight of his, now, naked frame. You attention was drawn to his half-hard cock that lay on low on his stomach, and how the tip was the prettiest pink that complimented his complexion. Your eyes drifted over to the areas of his hips and tops of his thighs that were once covered by his underwear. You fingers moved hesitantly to skim the scars that littered his pale skin; they all seemed particularly old, although some were darker and larger than others. Moving down, you kissed each mark without hurry, moving inwards closer and closer to his crotch. You looked up at him to check on his expression; his eyes will still closed but his lips were parted slightly, damp from running his tongue over them.

You placed one, testing kiss on the base of his cock as he let out a deep sigh. Enjoying his reaction, you left warm, open-mouthed kisses to the tip. As you pulled back slightly, you noticed how much harder his dick had gotten through your actions. Wrapping your hand around the base, you noticed how your fingers barely found their way around it, and how your hand felt so small compared to him. You gripped his length a little harder, receiving a quiet, raspy moan. With the moisture from your previous exploration, you easily moved your hand up and down his member; each breath of Tendou’s released with a whine as his head tiled back further.

Taking it one step further, you lifted his cock, fitting your mouth over the tip and slowly sunk down on him. The hand that had been in your hair was now gripping tightly, almost to the point of pain. His mouth was wide open, letting a strained groan leave his throat. You hollowed out your cheeks and continued, moving up and down at a steady pace.

The muscles in his stomach began to tense as you worked him; his body quivering in the pleasure. Your free hand came to rest on his stomach, stroking the skin to settle him down. He had never felt anything like this before. All he could do was focus on the way your head moved and how hot you felt around him. He felt overwhelmed in the best way possible - the closest he had ever felt to this before was a panic attack, but this feeling was much more soothing, warming and addicting. His eyes started to let little tears run down his cheeks as he reached his high; his back arching off the bed slightly and his hips rutting into your mouth. He wanted to warn you but he couldn’t seem to form any words in this moment.

With a loud, strangled moan he finished in your throat. You did your best to take all of his release, which was a little difficult due to the suddenness, but you dragged out his high with slow movements. He pulled slightly on the back of your head as a sign that he was finished so you lifted off of him and crawled up to meet his face, sitting above his stomach. Your hand brushed the tears away that stuck to his cheeks as you checked over him. His eyes were lidded in a sleepy manner and he wore a little smile. You bend down to press kisses over his face, beginning at his forehead, then his cheeks, moving to his nose and finally his lips. Resting your forehead on his, you ran your fingers through his short hair.

“You did so well, my love, I’m proud of you,” you praised in a soft, quiet tone. He chuckled in response,

“I didn’t do anything, but thank you.” With one final kiss, you lifted your body off of his, laying back on the bed with your body leaning on the headboard. You opened your arms for him, and he rolled over to bury his face in your neck; his long arms wrapped around you as you held him.

“I love you, every part of you,” you whispered into his hair.

“I love you too. Thank you.”

#IT TOOK ME LIKE 3 HOURS TO WRITE THIS DONT LET IT FLOP YALL #haikyuu #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu!!#haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu fluff #tendou satori #haikyū!!#Haikyuu smut #tendou x reader #Tendou satori x reader #Tendou smut

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20moonchild21 · 4 years

Text

𝗦𝗲𝗵𝗻𝘀𝘂𝗰𝗵𝘁 [𝗯𝘁𝘀]

⇉ 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 2

[Pairing]

Jungkook x female!oc; bunny!Jungkook x Human!oc

[Warnings]

mentions of violence, violence, nightmare, suffering, swearing, angst, traumatized JK, mentions of past and abusive behaviors, ear pulling

[Words]

4.5k

[author]

Here is my second chapter of Sehnsucht! I am so excited what you think of it!

The next chapter will already be out at Wednesday (17 February 2021), because I am stuck in quarantine, which means that I have plenty of time to update.

Also, don’t forget to check out the stories that inspired me to write story of my own. I linked them in my masterlist or in my announcement, or if you are too lazy to go back there, just scroll to the end of this chapter. They all wrote their own Hybrid!BTS au, and all of them are so unique and well-written!

⇉ They are amazing and deserve to be read!

If you have any recommendations, wishes or critics don’t hesitate to write me a message. I won’t bite, promise!

Stay healthy and safe!

Mꨄ

[chapter 1 ||| chapter 3]

“Silence everyone!” The man in the black robe yelled. “ The jury has deliberated. In the name of the people of the United States of America, I announce the following verdict: The accused is guilty of the act of illegal residence without official authorization and/or without being in the company of his rightful owner. The verdict has been pronounced and is immediate. I declare this trial to be ended”

He hit his brown hammer onto the block and immediately the audience in the room began to cheer, while an amount of bright flash lights lighted up the room.

“No.” The girl whispered in shock as the judged spoke his verdict.

Her head shot up, looking up to the middle of the room where a big glass box had been placed. Inside of the giant box sat the bunny Hybrid. His hands were cuffed together with a big metal ring that was connected with a cuff at both of his ankles, so it was almost impossible for him to make one step after another.

Around his neck he carried a large collar, from which the girl knew that it would send a heavy electronic shot through his body if he would try to break out.

He looked like he was some kind of felon, that needed to be locked up for the rest of his life, while everything he wanted was to feel safe and protected.

The girl shot up from her seat. She didn’t even care about the people in the room whispering about her, calling her traitor or other insults. But she couldn’t care less in the moment.

“Jungkook!” She cried as she reached the cage. By now, the tear were running down her cheeks, dropping onto her black robe. “I am so sorry Jungkook. I am so sorry! I – I tried anything.. I – “

“You said you would protect me.” The boy didn’t even bother to lift his head as he spoke. “You said you would keep me safe. You promised. Why did you lie to me?”

“I tried, Jungkook! I tried so hard.” Her knees gave in as she sunk to the ground.

He was right. She promised him that she would do anything to keep him safe with her, and now? Now, they were in the court room with the Hybrid cuffed up and the lawyer crying in front of his cage, completely powerless to the announced verdict.

“Why didn’t you try harder?” The bunny asked again, this time lifting his head to look directly into her eyes.

“I – “ The girl tried to explain herself. She wanted to tell him that she will do anything for him so that he wouldn’t have to go. But it was already too late.

Two tall men were coming up beside the cage. They unlocked the door and stepped inside, directly towards the helpless and cuffed up boy.

“NOOO!” The girl yelled and tried to push herself up from the ground, but she couldn’t. She was held back by two large security men, who were holding her like she weighted nothing. “NOO! Let me go! No! Jungkook!”

The men inside the glass box had uncuffed the boys collar, and were now pulling him up by his left ear. The bunny Hybrid hissed in pain. He tried to struggle and stop the men pulling him with them, but because of his hand and ankle cuffs, he was completely powerless.

“NOO!” The girl was still yelling and kicking around as if she was a maniac.

Cameras were pointing their flash lights directly onto the struggling Hybrid, while the rest of the audience laughing at him, as he was dragged behind the men and out of the courtroom.

“Hope, help me!” He screamed over and over again. “You promised! You promised! Hope!”

Her name was the last word she heard from him, before the big, heavy doors of the courtroom fell shut with a loud thumb, and there was nothing she could do about it now.

“Jungkook! NOO!”

With a loud gasp the girl shot up from her bed she was laying in, breathing so loudly and heavily like she was running out of air. Cold and icy sweat was running down her neck and chest, while her heart seemed to jump out of her ribcage every second.

She turned her head panickily around the room, trying to make out the big glass box, or the judge or the camera flashings, but instead her eyes were met with darkness. It took her another few minutes to finally realize that she neither had never been in any courtroom, nor had she ever been part in a court hearing recently, and especially not as a lawyer.

A dream. It was only a dream.

Like someone took all energy out of her body, she fell back onto the soft matrass of her bed. Her hands and legs were numb and shaking, with the shock still sitting deep in her bones. She closed her eyes and tried to took some deep breaths.

In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.

It took her another 10 minutes, but eventually her heartbeat finally calmed down, while her lungs began to contract less and less forcefully. The girl turned her head to the side.

6.54 a.m. was written onto the small digital clock that was put onto her nightstand. She closed her eyes again. Never in her life had she been so glad to see this numbers, even though she hated to wake up before 8 o’clock. There was absolutely no chance that she could go back to sleep again this morning.

“Fuck.” She whispered ad drove her hands over her face.

She kept lying in bed for another 20 minutes, before she decided to go up. She definitely need a shower right now, or else she would stink like a wet dog, because of all the amount of sweat she had produced during this intensive dream. Only the thought caused a shiver running down her spine.

She grabbed a pair of shorts and a new t-shirt from inside her drawer, before tippy-toeing out of her bedroom, hoping to be quiet enough to no wake up the Hybrid sleeping in one of her guestrooms.

When she was all washed up, and back into her bedroom, she went over to her small dressing table. She sat down and was about to brush her wet hair, when suddenly the noise of something hard breaking rang through the apartment.

She shot up from the small chair she was sitting one. Her first thought was that someone had broken a window and was now trying to sneak into the apartment. But lucky for her, she lived in the 3th. Floor of the living complex, and she was pretty sure that no one climbed up her to break into her apartment.

The only one that could have caused that noise was…the Hybrid sleeping in her guestroom.

She gulped, as her heartbeat increased, pumping the adrenalin through her throbbing veins, once again this morning. She was not scared that he had broken something on purpose, but more that he might had hurt himself.

Quickly and with a beating heart, she made her way over to his bedroom door. As she stood in front of the room, she slightly knocked onto the door. Though she was worried and curious, she should show some respect of his privacy, before entering.

“Jungkook?” She spoke carefully, as the soft knocks haled around the hallway.

She waited a few seconds, hoping he would answer, but the apartment stayed silence. There was no noise or voice at all, just pure silence.

“Jungkook? I am coming in, okay?” She didn’t waited for his answer, the worries about him, lying in there hurt and helpless was stronger this time.

With a quiet squeak, the door was slowly pushed open by the small girl, and as the gap was big enough, Hope carefully sticked her head through the gap between wall and door.

The curtains that she had closed the previous evening, were still blocking most of the sunlight, letting the room stay dark enough to sleep, but bright enough to see anything.

The bed, that she had placed the scared Hybris inside the previous evening, was a mess. The sheets and duvet were pulled back and spread out messily all over the bed, while the pillow was wrinkled and laid on the foot end of the bed.

But there was no sign of the boy. He was gone.

Curiously, she pushed the door more open and took a small step inside the room. Beside the messy bed, everything looked normal. The closet, the table, the painting on the wall, the lamp on the night table…wait no. There was no lamp on the night table anymore.

And then Hope counted one and one together. The clinging sound she herd earlier was the sound of a breaking porcelain lamp, that was now lying on the floor, spread out in hundreds of pieces. He must have accidentally pushed over the lamp.

She breathed out with relief. The lamp had neither been expensive, nor had it some kind of meaning for her, but this didn’t change the fact that she was worried about the Hybrid, that was still nowhere to be seen.

She decided to first clean up the broken pieces, before looking for the boy. The front door was locked overnight, so there was no chance he could have left without her noticing. She turned around to get the dustpan from insider her storage room, when suddenly, something heart breaking caught her eyes.

Behind the pushed open door, hidden in the corner as she had entered the room, sat Jungkook in the same position she had found him the evening before. He had pulled his knees up towards his chest with his arms locked around them tightly. His lips where pressed together, as if he was trying to not make any sound at all, and his ears covering his eyes.

Her hands were trembling with anger. Anger at those people who had traumatized this poor boy so much. She hoped deeply for them that they won’t ever cross her path, or else she won’t give a guarantee for anything.

She took a deep breath, kneeling down with slightly shaking legs.

“Jungkook?” She said calmly, hoping that her voice was didn’t scare him even more, but he didn’t move an inch. “Jungkook, I can see you.”

A slight whimper left his lips and he tried to push himself eve further into the corner of the room, shaking his head while mumbling ‘no, no’ all over again and again.

“N - no, please, don’t be scared Jungkook. ” She spoke again, voice cracking. “I – I am not mad at you. I promise.”

Nothing Hope said seemed to calm down the shaking Hybrid. He stayed still in the corner of the room, with his eyes covered. The girl wanted nothing more than to run over to him, hugging him tightly and never let him go again, but she knew that it would make the situation worse. He needed to decide to trust her by himself.

She slowly stood up and left the guestroom, getting the dustpan along with the vacuum cleaner from her storeroom. She collected up the lightbulb and some bigger pieces from the floor, before she swept up the rest of the porcelain pieces and throwing it into the thrash can under the table. To make sure that there were no small pieces of sharp porcelain left, she vacuumed all over the floor once more.

As she moved back and forth, she steeled some glances at the boy from time to time. He had removed his ears a little bit, so he could watch her closely cleaning up the floor, his eyes were wide open.

When she was done, she turned off the vacuum cleaner and laid it back down onto the floor, before turning once again towards the door, and kneeling down to be at the same eye level as the boy.

“See? Everything is already cleaned up. Like nothing happened at all.” She tried to sound to use a joking voice. He should realize that a broken lamp was nothing he should be worried to be punished for.

He didn’t show any kind of reaction. He just kept looking at her with his big, brown deer eyes, that could melt any heart, and his hair spread out into all directions. But to he surprise, he hadn’t covered his eyes again.

This made her proud. She didn’t care that he didn’t said anything, or that he didn’t move an inch as she spoke towards him. But that he wasn’t covering his eyes anymore as she spoke, which he did the night before, showed her that they were already making process, and she would do anything to keep going this path.

Step by step.

“Okay, I will let you alone some more and make breakfast for the both of us.” She smile at him, not forced this time. I was a real smile. “Feel free to join me whenever you like to.”

She stood up and grabbed both utensils she had used to clean up the room, before leaving. She didn’t close the door though, wanting to show him that he wasn’t locked up.

Meanwhile, the Jungkook was still trying to process what just had happened.

He didn’t mean to break the lamp at all, but when he woke up this morning, he was so scared because he thought he had fell asleep onto his owners’ bed, which he was not allowed under any circumstances.

His mind had still been too tired to notice the different surrounding he was in, so he had tried to leave the bed as fast as possible, before his owners would catch him. He had pushed the duvet off of his body and was already about to jump out of the bed, when suddenly, his arm hit something hard and knocking it over.

In his trance he had tried to leave the room as quick as possible, but it was too late. He could hear someone knocking at the door while calling his name.

That’s how he found himself in this position. Curled up in the corner of this room, shaking slightly.

But to his surprise, the small girl, Hope was her name, she had found him the previous evening, stepped inside the room. Never in his life had he been so relieved to see a human, even though he had just known her for a few hours.

He kept sitting in the corner for another 20 minutes, before the smell of something delicious hit his nose. He took a sniff and immediately, his stomach began to growl loudly. A blush covered his cheeks and he quickly looked around, but no one had been there to hear the loud growl.

She said that she would make something to eat and that he could join her, but she already gave him something to eat last night. It had been more than he could have ever asked for and he was thankful for that.

His stomach growled again, even louder this time.

Should he take the risk and leave the room? What if she was joking, and he wasn’t allowed to join her for breakfast? But then, she had allowed him to sit on the table with her, and she offered him a bed to sleep. On top, she didn’t punish him for accidently breaking her lamp, she didn’t even sounded mad at all.

His heart was pointing heavily, as he decided to take the risk and actually leave the room. His hunger was stronger than his fear this time.

He slowly rose from the ground and sticked his head out of the room he had slept in. Last night, he was so tired that he hadn’t even had the power to take in his surroundings, so now he was even more surprised.

He was now standing in a small, bright hallway that was leading somewhere to either side of him.

To his left side, the hallway ended just a few meters next to him. At the end of the hallway, as well as opposite and to his right side where beautiful white doors, from which he didn’t know where they would lead to.

To his right side, the hallway lead into another, open and big room, which he recognized to be the living room with that big sofa, that had looked so soft last evening. He had to hold back his urge to just sit down there and drove his finger over the soft fabric, because he was not allowed to.

He made another small step outside his room. Everything in the girl’s apartment looked so inviting and warm. The floor and walls didn’t transmit a cold and shivering impression, like he was used to. Instead, the wooden floor felt soft and the wall actually tempted him to walk along.

He took another step.

The wall next to him caught his attention. Hanging there were many different pictures all over the wall, and as he took a closer look, he saw a familiar girl on every single one of them. On some of the pictures, she was seen alone, sometimes only smiling and sometimes she looked welled dressed, holding some papers proudly in her hands.

But at the majority of the pictures, she could be seen with many different people. On one, she stood next to an older women , but at some others, she was with people her age, pulling funny faces into the camera.

The corners of his mouth raise unwillingly as he watched the pictures closer. The girl seemed to be like by many persons. Maybe she –

“Oh, you just came in time.” He quickly turned his head and looked at the same girl. She was just putting a small basket with bread onto the table. “Breakfast is ready, you can sit down if you like.”

He took one last glance at the pictures, before he carefully made his way up towards the table, where the girl was already sitting. On the chair next to her, she had placed a second plate, but the stool was empty. For a short moment, he wondered if it actually was for him, but she began to speak again.

“You can sit down here.” She pointed at the stool with the plat in front of it. “Of – of course only if you want to.”

He felt his own cheeks redden, as he saw the tiny blush on her cheeks. He quickly nodded and sat down on the stool next to her. His eyes went wide when he saw all the food on the table. It wasn’t as much like his owners would put up, but he saw the effort she had put into decorating the plates.

She had prepared a small plate with cheese and sausage, and another one with different vegetables, like cucumber slices and tomatoes. Next to the vegetables stood a small basket with bread and toast, and next to his plate she had placed a glass of what looked like orange juice and an egg.

“I – I didn’t know what you would like to drink, so I just gave you an orange juice, but you can also have a coffee if you like.” She said as she pointed at a brown liquid in front of her plate.

He carefully shook his head, not knowing what to say. He was overwhelmed with all the kindness she showed towards him. He didn’t even know why she was so nice to him. He was a strolling Hybrid. He was homeless and he causes trouble all the time. At least that’s what his owners always told him.

The girl meanwhile had taken a slice of bread and was smearing some onto it. Once again he didn’t know how to act. Should he just wait for her to put something onto his plate, like she did last night, or did he actually had the permission to take anything.

“You can take whatever you like.” She once again answered his question, as if she could read her mind. She must be really smart to always see what he was thinking about.

Hesitantly, he grabbed a slice of toast from the basket. He watched from the corner of his eyes what she did with her slice, and just copied her movements.

When breakfast was over, Jungkook watched the girl as she stood up from the table, taking her plate with her. She walked into the kitchen and put it into the sink.

Once again, he tried to copy her movements. He quickly got up from his stool and carried his plate over to the kitchen.

“Oh, this is nice of you.” She smiled friendly at him, as she turned back towards the sink. “Just put it over there, please.”

This scenario repeated over and over again. While she washed the dirty dishes, he would get one decoration after another from the table. Every time he came back, she showed him where to put everything. He put the butter into the fridge, the salt into the shelf over the stove and the kitchen roll into the drawer next to the sink.

He was not new to such actions. At home, he would always clean up after his owners after they were done eating, but they would never treat him that nice. They would yell at him to do faster and quicker. He shivered at the thought of that.

“Thank you for your help, Jungkook.” The girl had turned around as she whipped her hands dry, bending her upper body slightly as she thanked him.

He was completely overwhelmed at this gesture. Never in his life had someone bowed towards him. Normally, he was the one to bow.

“You’re welcome.” He just whispered.

The day passed quicker than she thought. In the morning, she had called one of her male friends, asking him if he could give her some of his clothes.

“Don’t ask why.” She had told him as he stood in front of her door.

Jungkook was once again about to just take of his clothes in the middle of the living room, but she quickly told him to change privately in his room. His eyes literally popped out of his head when she said ‘his room’. He looked like a child on Christmas eve, and it was more than adorable to watch.

Excitingly, he ran back and forth between his room and the living room, showing her all the clothes. Most of them were still a little bit too big, but she guessed that he would gain a bit more of weight over the next weeks, so he was going to fit in.

Over the next few weeks. Few words with big meaning.

Hope just assumed that he would stay here, with her. She didn’t even think once about why he had been out there since the morning, or of his owner was looking for him. What would she do if he would stand in front of her door, wanting his Hybrid back? He or she obviously treated the poor boy terribly, but then, she didn’t had any authorization about the bunny Hybrid.

Authorization.

She wanted to throw up while using that word. The boy, and any other Hybrid, was a living being, with an own consciousness and own needs. He should be free to have a choice over him and his life by himself, and not anyone else.

“Wow, that looks good.” She smiled at him as he came back with the last shirt to try on.

He nodded quickly and looked into the big mirror next to the front door. He turned his body from one to the other side, before droving his hands over the shirt, ears bobbing with excitement.

Hope was fascinated by his ears. He had told her earlier that he was a holland lop bunny Hybrid, which were known for their floppy ears and they were especially rare with grey fur, like he had.

While hanging down, the soft, fur covered ears reached shortly above his chin, and she had to hold back the urge to touch the soft hair. Ears and tail were the most sensitive and intimate body parts of a Hybrid, which no one should be allowed to touch without the Hybrids permission. Sadly, no one cared about that.

They often grab and touch Hybrids’ ears, pulling them or clipping some tags through them. As well as their tails. She just wanted to arrest anyone to show such a disrespect towards a Hybrid.

She snapped out of her thoughts, just as Jungkook entered the room again, carrying all the clothes she had given to him. His face didn’t show excitement anymore, while he had his ears straighten flatly against his head.

“Those are for you, Jungkook.” Hope said as she stood up from the sofa. “You can keep them all. They – “

“No.” He simply said, almost hissing at the girl. He laid the pile of clothes carefully on the sofa, before lifting a shirt up, holding it right in front of the girl’s face. “Smell.”

Confused, she took the shirt and smelled at the fabric. It smelled….like nothing? She looked back up at the bunny hybrid, who was standing in front of her, looking expectantly at the girl.

“I don’t smell anything.” She said and smelled again. Maybe she caught a cold? “They aren’t smelling like anything.”

“Smells like man.” Jungkook said, as he shook himself. “Bah! Should not smell like man.”

“Oh, okay. You don’t like the scent of Brian?” She asked amused, and he nodded quickly. “I will go and wash them.”

Hybrids don’t just had outer features of animals, they also had all their senses, which means that they were extremely sensitive to smells or sounds. Though the clothes were all washed, they probably still had Brian’s scent from when he had carried the clothes in his arms.

She laughed slightly and walked into the bathroom with the boy was trailing behind her, watching as she turned on the washing mashie. When she was done, she turned back towards Jungkook.

“There you go. All washed up.” She said, but he still did not look satisfied.

“You.” He said and sniffed the air in front of her.

“Me?” The girl asked confused, as he practically smelled at her. Did she smell bad?

“You smell like man.” He said, cocking his right eyebrow up. “You should not smell like man.”

“Oh.” She laughed quickly, bending her head to smell her shirt. But being a human with a human nose, it was impossible for her to smell anything. “I was standing close to Brian earlier when I took the clothes. Maybe that’s why I smell like him. I will take a shower.”

15 minutes later, she came back from the bathroom. Jungkook was having the time of his life, watching the Simpsons on TV. He didn’t even notice her coming up from beside him, because he was so caught up from the colourful cartoon.

“Better?” She laughed at him and his head snapped towards her.

He watched her up and down, before taking some deep sniffs. He thought for a while, before he nodded and turned his attention back towards the TV.

“Better.”

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pedrosbish · 4 years

Text

from me, the moon

word count: 1.7k

warnings: angst

*female reader x marcus*

He loved you with all his heart. And it terrified you.

You were both nineteen, in the prime of your youth, having only been dating for a year and a bit (one year, two months and eight days he had corrected you once) when you had come home to your modest, tiny apartment. The lights were turned off and for a split second you were worried that something had happened, something felt off.

Wandering further in, you noticed a flickering light coming from the bedroom and as you slowly pushed the door open, you were met with the sight of Marcus Moreno cursing as he attempted to light another candle, burning his finger when it wouldn't catch aflame.

“Baby?” You almost laughed out loud when he had whipped around, a loud gasp escaping his mouth, dropping the match to the ground. Pointing to the neatly made bed (which hadn't been done in awhile), roses adorning the white duvet and the multiple lit candles around the room, casting a calming light to fill the room. “What’s all this?”

“Mi amor.” He takes a step forward, holding something behind his back. “You weren't supposed to be back for another hour. Is everything okay?”

“Of course. I just managed to get away earlier today- not many customers.” Waving your hand around the room again, you glance your eyes around before looking at Marcus. “What’s the occasion?”

Gently taking ahold of your hand, he leads you to the bed where you sit, expecting him to take a seat beside you but instead he gets down on one knee, revealing what he had hiding behind his back. A ring. It was a simple thing, a golden band with a tiny diamond sparkling in the centre, but it still managed to make your breath hitch and your stomach drop.

“Mi amor, mi vida, I fell in love with you when I first saw you. I fell in love even more when I got to know you and when you somehow managed to agree to be my girlfriend. I would like to spend the rest of my life with you so I want to ask this one thing: will you marry me?”

Bile rises in your throat and your heart beats rapidly as you see the look on his face- hope, fear, love. Tears gather in your eyes as more time passes and he rocks onto the back of his heels, the hand holding the ring faltering slightly as he waits and waits and waits, before it falls to his side.

“Marcus...”

“Please say something baby.” Your heart breaks even more when you see the hopeful emotions on his face fall at your hesitation. “Please just say something. Anything.”

“I can’t,” you croak out as your head falls, tears rolling down your cheeks, avoiding the look of utter heartbreak on his face. “We’re too young, Marcus. We haven't even finished college yet; we don't have a steady pay check; we haven't even been-”

“I know what I feel for you. I know that I love you with all my fucking heart.” He pauses, his voice raw with emotion as he fights back his tears.”Please just say yes.”

~~~

You knew it was cowardly to run away, you know that now, but after explaining to Marcus that you weren't ready to marry him you had packed all your things and left. Avoiding all his texts, calls, attempts at catching you on campus, he eventually gave up and left you alone. It broke your heart.

Years had passed and you both had moved on. He got married, had a kid and moved away while you continued focussing on your job having set up your own business in the city. You were happy for him, really, and you tried to ignore the feeling of jealousy that sprouted in your chest whenever you heard news of him from his mother who you kept in touch with all these years (you figured he wanted nothing to do with you anymore after your rejection).

And that's why you were surprised to receive an invitation from Marie Moreno to come visit them.

The idea of seeing Marcus Moreno again nearly scared you into not going- something which Marie must have sensed when you had called her the day before you were supposed to travel as she made (empty) threats to hit you with her walking stick if you didn't come. It was something that you didn't want to risk.

Standing in front of their door, however, changed your mind and you had almost made it back to the rented car before the door opened and a young girl appeared, a large smile on her face. So this must have been Missy. There was no doubt about it; her dark brown eyes that crinkled at the corners when she smiled, her skin a healthy tanned gold - everything about her proved that she was Marcus’ child.

“It’s so nice to meet you!” She takes a step forward to shake your hand, not letting go. “My abuelita has told me so many stories about you like that one time you went over for dinner and my dad told you a joke so funny that a piece of spaghetti came out of your nose!”

“Of all the stories she has about me, of course she has to tell that one.” You mutter under your breath but the girl managed to still hear it, her smile widening.

“Or there was that one time when-”

“Missy!” A voice calls out from the house and your heart stills as footsteps draw nearer to you. “Do you have everything? We cannot be late to this thing again otherwise Mrs Flanagan is going to have my head on a spi-”

Your heart jumps in your throat when your eyes meet, those brown eyes that you could have stared at for years when resting on his chest as the world around slowly woke up for the day. He looks older, better, a beard adorning his face and a pair of thick framed glasses perching on his nose, but he also looks...the same. His eyes widen and take in the fact that his old girlfriend from his high school days is standing on his front porch.

“Hey.” You wave at him awkwardly with your free hand.

“Um, hello? What- what are you doing here?”

"Marie invited me...she said you knew about this.”

Marcus looks to his daughter for an answer only to be met with a sly smile and gleaming mischievous eyes. He opens his mouth to say something but before he can, a car pulls up on the street and Missy quickly grabs the bags he had dropped at his feet before running to the car. His mother's car.

“Goddamit.” He glances at you, too scared too stare too long and remember. "I'm really sorry about this. Should've known that they were up to something- they've been acting weird these last couple of days."

"It's okay Marcus."

Your laugh is angelic, like hearing an old song again after such a long time, and he tries to ignore the way his heart thumps wildly within his chest and his stomach flips within his stomach. He smiles, clearly lost in his own thoughts and you try to ignore the way your heart speeds up at the gesture and the butterflies in your stomach.

"Would you- do you want to come in?" His offer is tentative but it still means the world to you and you happily nod, moving past him when he takes a step back into the house.

It’s nice, homely, as you take in the framed family pictures lining the hall that leads to the kitchen. You grin at the mess in the kitchen, breakfast plates and bowls littering the counters- he still struggled to fin the time to clean- and he must sense your thoughts as he smiles sheepishly at you, moving to put everything in the sink.

“Do you want something to drink? Coffee? Tea?”

“Just water please.”

It’s awkward and tense, the air filled with unsaid things. You watch quietly as he gets a glass for you and fills it with water, eyes fixed on the task at hand instead of looking up at you.

“How-how have you been?”

“Good. Everything’s good.” You mumble, ignoring the way his eyes look you over quickly. “Not as good as you though! You got married. And you had a kid.”

He laughs, fiddling with the ring on his finger, and your attention is drawn to the simple band of gold. His smile falters as he stares down at it. “I did. She-my wife passed away about a year ago.”

“I’m so sorry Marcus.” Placing your glass down on the counter, you round it to stand in front of him. “How has it been?”

“Hard, yeah.” He nods his head and casts his eyes to the ground, trying to hide the tears that have started to gather in his eyes. “Missy has been dealing with it better than I have. But we’re- I’m getting there.”

You lift your hand and place it on his arm, comforting, and he closes his eyes at the contact of warmth. His eyes lift up to meet yours, not breaking away, and you hastily take a step back, away from him.

“It’s, uh, really nice to see you.”

Your cheeks redden as you nod your head. “It’s nice to see you too. Anyway, I should probably go and check into the Bed and Breakfast.”

You turn to leave, Marcus trailing behind, as you open the front door and take a step outside. A mixture of feelings torment you as you glance at him over your shoulder before getting into the rental car. Before you can drive off, he runs to your car window, signalling for you to open it.

“Would you maybe want to go to dinner with me? To catch up?”

Those brown eyes fill with a hope that you haven't seen for a long time, that you haven't seen since the last time you had the honour of being the centre of Marcus’ life, and it makes your heart beat just a little bit faster in your chest.

“I would love to.”

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melissa-kenobi · 4 years

Text

Paperwork

[ARC Trooper Fives x Reader]

A/N: i was missing Fives so here's some fluff with him 🥰

Summary: Fives is forced to catch up on his paperwork whether he likes it or not.

Word Count: 2.1k

You were exhausted to say the least, your muscles screaming for a rest, for you to stop and take a break, whether it be 5 minutes or an hour, but you couldn't. Not when there was a war raging on and you need to be there. Waving to Anakin as you passed his tent, you saw your commander sat beside some of your men, he looked exhausted. Eyes filled with the same exhaustion you felt, as he spoke tirelessly with your men.

"General!" Kiri replied as he saw you approach him, immediately standing up and saluting you.

"Stand down Kiri, how many times have I told you?" You laughed as you gently pushed him down to sit once more.

"Sorry General." He smiled bashfully.

"I need to find Captain Rex? Some of his troopers haven't filed their reports and the Admiral needs them in by eight hundred hours today." You asked Kiri, who let out a small yawn before shaking himself and replying.

"I'm not too sure General. Rex did mention having to chase Fives and Echo for their paperwork in the 501st barracks." You smiled in response as you stood up, hand situated on Kiri's shoulder as you guided him up.

"Thank you Kiri. Walk with me." You asked, more like ordered politely.

"But... General!... th-" You cut Kiri off with a stern look before taking off, your commander following behind you as he picked up his helmet.

"Kiri, I'm concerned for your health." You looked at him as you approached the barracks for the 265th. "You haven't been yourself lately, I've seen your performance drop slightly."

You watched as Kiri's eyes widened in shock. That was the last thing he expected to be told by you. "General, no. I e-"

"Kiri, you're not in trouble. I'm just worried about you." Kiri nodded in agreement.

"General if I might?" You nodded for him to continue. "You haven't been yourself either, I see you looking exhausted and on the brink of death sometimes."

Your eyes downcast as you took in what Kiri said, immediately ready to deny everything, but your commander had a way of seeing past you. He smiled as he placed a soft hand on your shoulder, ready to speak but was interrupted by someone.

"Y/N! Ahh, help me General!!!"

The voice of ARC Trooper Fives ran behind you, hands on your hips, ducking down as he tried his best to hide from someone. You ultimately guessed it was Rex, most probably wanting Fives to get his paperwork done instead of heading to 79s.

"Fives!" You yelped, abruptly turning around. Your face softened as you watched him, his eyes focused on yours as he grinned cheekily, hands on your hips as he blinked innocently at you.

"Yes General?" He teased but was soon cut short by the booming tone of Captain Rex.

"FIVES!"

You raised an eyebrow at Fives who only shrugged in response before turning to Kiri who seemed amused at the situation. "Kiri, what I was saying before was that..."

Captain Rex had stormed up to you, eyes furious as you face turned from Kiri to face Rex. "Rex, what's happened?"

"What's happened General? I'll tell you what happened, your little boyfriend here hasn't done his paperwork since 7 months ago!" Your eyes widened in shock before glaring at Fives who cowered under your glare. "Cody's on my case about it because General Kenobi needs the reports from a mission Fives took and they're not there, because someone decided partying at 79s was more important!"

"FIVES!" You yelled, after hearing Rex's confession, suddenly shocked that Fives had left it for so long.

"Yes honey?" Fives tried, pulling lovey eyes on you, but it didn't work.

"Go with Rex and bring your paperwork to my tent. Be there in 5." You commanded him as he let go of you and make a sad cute face, trying his best to appeal to your softer side.

It didn't work.

"Captain, I'll make sure he gets all of it done tonight." Rex nodded as he tugged Fives along with him. Kiri on the other hand was just about to slip away before you grabbed his arm and tugged him into the 265th barracks.

"Now you!" You pointed at Kiri, whose eyes were wide with shock. "Get some rest Kiri. If I find you out there, you'll be in deep trouble." You warned as you left the tent.

"Sir yes sir." You heard Kiri whispered as you imagined he got ready to finally get some godammned rest.

***

Fives had dragged himself to your tent, his eyes wide with deception as you stood by your desk, the chair already pulled out, your arms crossed as you waited for him to take a seat. Fives may have gotten the wrong idea when you said you were going to make sure he got his paperwork done, it would seem that you actually meant business.

"But cyare, I can't do all of it now!" Fives protested as he took his seat, looking up at you, his eyes trying thier hardest to convince you.

"No Fives. If you don't finish every single piece of paperwork, you'll be put on leave till you finish it. No matter how long it takes." You threatened, it was an empty threat you knew, but it was what got Fives started on his reports as he racked his brains for whatever had happened in those missions.

After 3 long excruciatingly long hours, Fives was at least a third of the way through his paperwork. You looked up from your seat opposite him only to find him staring right back at you with tired eyes and a yawn before he gave you a little chuckle.

"Are you not going to help me honey?" He asked ever so sweetly that you would have caved if you didn't see the stack of paper on the left that you had to do yourself.

"Nope. Sorry Fives, no can do." You smiled as you patted his hand as he slumped to the table in exhaustion. "Got my own work to do." You yawned and rubbed your eyes causing Fives to look at you in concern.

"Hey, cyar'ika, are you alright?" Fives asked gently when he saw you yawn 4 times in the span of a minute. His eyes turning from tired to genuine concern for you.

"You're still not getting out this Fives." You tried to joke but ended up yawning as you slumped in your seat. Fives immediately concerned for your health jumped out of his seat and picked you up from yours, his hands wrapping around your waist and legs, lifting you bridal style as he walked towards the bunks in your tent.

"Fives!" You yelped after he had placed you down on the bed. Confused you rapidly got up out of bed and headed towards your desk before Fives pushed you back down and collapsed onto you.

"No. Cyar'ika, I know you're tired and you haven't been sleeping." Your mouth opened to deny what he was saying but he only gave you a look. "Kiri told me. Don't try it."

"Traitor..." You whispered under your breath, you were certainly going to have some words with Kiri about privacy. Fives pressed you into the mattress as you wiggled around trying to get out.

"Hey! You can't do that! I'm the General!" You weakly protested, trying to shove Fives off you.

"When it comes to your health, I outrank you honey." Fives smiled softly as he trailed a finger down your cheek, your eyes closing shut at the warm gesture as your leaned into his touch.

"But my paperwork... I can't, I hav-"

Fives was about to cut you off but you managed to do it yourself with a deep yawn as you blinked rapidly to keep your eyes awake. The warmth of your bed and Fives was proving to be a good combination as it was slowly lulling you to sleep. Fives gently pulled himself off you, tucking you into bed, wrapping the duvet around your body as he slid in beside you.

Still awake, you mumbled. "Don't forget your paperwork and wake me up in 30 mins." Your left hand going out to bring Fives' paperwork so he could work on them as you cuddled into his side.

"Go to sleep cyar'ika, I'll wake you." Fives smiled as he ran a hand through your hair, softly massaging your head to sleep. He leaned down to press a sweet kiss to your forehead as your arms tightened around his waist.

"Mmmhh... love you Fives."

"Love you too cyar'ika."

***

"Oh maker... is that the General?"

"What are they doing?"

"Is she.... sleeping?"

Whispers scurried around your ears as you blinked your eyes awake, suddenly taking in your surroundings, only to find some of your squadron peeking through.

"Oh kriff! She's awake!" You quickly got up only to be blocked by a heavy arm on your stomach, weighing you down. Kriff, you'd overslept, but maker did that feel good. As you cast your eyes down, you found Fives sleeping soundly besides you as he lightly snored. You lifted his hand gently off you as you placed a kiss on his temple where his tattoo lay. His face smushed into the pillow as slept soundly.

"Fives... honey....sweetie..." You tried, calling him pet names till he arose from his sleep. You traced a finger down the side of his face, hoping that would trigger some sort of reaction for him to wake.

"Cyar'ika... c'mon Fives..." When he didn't, you decided you would use a slight more aggressive tactic, you placed your hands on his shoulders, slowly shaking him awake.

"Fives!" You whispered harshly. Fives only snuggled into your further, small moans leaving him mouth as he continues sleeping.

You could sense General Kenobi and Commander Cody was near and you needed to get up. Kriff you thought. Did we even finish the paperwork from yesterday? Now becoming more worried you pulled the duvet off Fives before pushing him roughly off the bed, resulting in him falling to the cold ground with a heavy thump and a string of curses.

"Well that worked." You smiled as you leaned over the bed to see Fives on the floor, groaning in slight pain. "You've been through worse honey, now ge-"

All of a sudden Fives leapt up from the ground, onto the bed rolling you over onto your back, his hands holding your wrists above your head as he snuggled into your neck, leaving small kisses as you writhed under him.

"Fives!! What are you doing?"

"Getting revenge." He mumbled as he slowly traced his way down your body, kisses being left down your neckline, towards your collarbone and to your breasts, while his left hand that was free crept down to your lower regions, teasing you slowly. You let out a small moan of pleasure before your hips automatically thrusted against his hand. Fives being the cheeky shit he was, pulled away, letting go of your hands and crawling off the bed, offering a hand to you.

"C'mon, General Kenobi will be here soon. He's waiting for us." Fives winked at you as he pulled on his armour, your eyes wide as you scurried out of bed, your lust for Fives forgotten as you quickly got ready.

"Fives?" You panicked. "We didn't finish the paperwork. I'm so sorry, I'll have to come up with an excuse for Obi-Wan."

Fives didn't reply, only walked to the entrance to let Kenobi and Cody in. "Morning General, Cody."

"Good morning Fives. Where is General L/N?" Obi-Wan asked as you came out the door, greeting them.

"Brilliant, now that you're here, do you have the paperwork and reports?" Obi-Wan asked, eyes soft and gentle. You opened your mouth to explain but Fives beat you to it. Pulling out his stack of paperwork he handed it to Obi-Wan, who quickly assessed it with a critical eye before nodding.

"And here's General L/N's." Fives handed Obi-Wan your stack of paperwork, all completed as you struggle to keep your eyes and mouth void of shock.

"Well done Fives. Although I would appreciate it if you did your paperwork on time. I don't want to have Rex or Anakin bothering me about it." Obi-Wan spoke good naturedly before heading off with Cody.

"Fives..."

Fives only smiled in response.

"You didn't have to."

"I wanted to." He took your hand in his as he pulled you closer to him. "You needed the break."

"Thank you." You smiled reaching up to kiss him. You really did have the best boyfriend ever.

"I think you deserve a reward cyare." You dragged him back inside the tent, laughing with glee as he picked you bridal style.

"I love you Fives."

"I love you too Y/N."

***

Taglist: @tobitofunction @pinkiemme @lysawayne @shadowfoxey

#arc trooper fives x reader #fives x reader #arc trooper fives #star wars #obi wan kenobi #commander cody #commander kiri #star wars prequels #clones x reader #the clone wars #arc trooper fives x you

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youwerenevermeanttofeelalone · 4 years

Text

Still Like the Letters in Your Name and How They Feel, Babe | Five Hargreeves

✦ pairing — Five Hargreeves x female!Plus Size Reader

✦ word count — 3.4k

✦ modern AU

✦ loosely based on the song Still Feel Like Your Man by John Mayer.

✦ summary — you get snowed in with your ex-boyfriend.

✦ warnings — angst, mentions of alcohol, language, fluff, dry humping.

✦ author’s note — the lovely @ohdangitsjay wanted me to write dry humping with Five for kinktober but the slot was taken already so I decided to add some of it here.

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Parties weren’t Five’s thing, much less work parties. He would have skipped the event if he hadn’t gotten a promotion less than four months ago.

He always sat on his own, not interested in his coworkers’ lives. He knew more than he needed already, not only because of their loose tongues but because they were open books.

He would’ve rather been at his place, alone like he had been spending his time for the past months.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to get close to you.”

Five lifted his head out of courtesy, he had recognized his coworker’s voice immediately. She was pretty, he could admit that, but he had read her intentions months ago and he wasn’t interested. “Mmhmm. I know.”

“I’d like to get to know you.”

“I’m good, thanks.”

He felt buzzing in his pants and he didn’t know whether to thank whoever was calling or kill them for bothering him now. Lifting a hand so the woman in front of him wouldn’t speak furthermore, he withdrew his cellphone from his pocket.

Vanya’s photo almost blinded him. He cursed — he hadn’t lowered the screen brightness like a fucking idiot.

Excusing himself, he pushed his way out of the venue. Letting the phone ring in his grasp, allowing himself to take in a deep breath of fresh air, he stood under the cold night.

Vanya insisted which confused him, she always knew when to stop bothering him. And that night, even his coworker insisted. He shook his head as he saw her walk out of the venue, wrapped in her coat.

Taking the call just to avoid her, he grunted, “What?” He pinched the bridge of his nose as Vanya explained that she needed him to pick you up from a bar. Thinking the worst, he exhaled, “I’ll be there in ten.”

“Leaving so soon?”

“Not soon enough, it seems.” He dropped his phone in his coat this time. His coworker’s expression of hurt didn’t faze him, but he still explained himself, “Look, you’re not the problem, it’s just that I know your intentions and I’m taken.”

Five had never wished a lie he had told was true until now. He wasn’t taken anymore, but he was still yours, at least he felt like that. He’d never find another you, and he wasn’t sure he was ready to start looking either.

Tugging his car open, he withdrew his cellphone from his coat and slid into the driver seat. Five introduced the key into the clutch, yet he didn’t ignite the engine.

He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, considering the option of turning his phone off and coming up with an excuse days later. But he didn’t have it in him, not this time when he had a chance to see you — so many days after the morning you left.

The quicker he got it over with, the quicker he would be able to drown himself in alcohol to pretend it hadn’t happened.

His sister was already waiting for him near the entrance of the bar. Vanya turned her head to the side. Five followed the movement with his eyes and ultimately you came into vision. Only you would wear a dress in this weather, always claiming you never got cold.

He knew it wasn’t true, but you were stubborn. His siblings often said he wouldn’t have been so smitten if you weren’t as stubborn and they were right, he liked the challenge. And although he would never admit this out loud, he liked giving in to your stubbornness. He missed it.

You hadn’t realized he was there, head on your friend’s shoulder as they all talked. He could tell how drunk you were just by the lazy position of your hand on your lap.

“Why can’t you take her home?”

“No, God, no! You misunderstood what I said, Five. I need you to take her with you.”

Five gave his sister an incredulous look, hoping she was joking. When he realized Vanya was serious, he shook his head. “You know she hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you. Besides, she’s drunk out of her mind, she might hug you instead of breaking your nose.”

He glared at her. Although his nose was more than fine, that punch hurt.

“Please? For me? I haven’t spent enough time with Sissy in weeks.”

“Too much information, Vanya!” he chastised, shaking his head as he walked past his sister.

It bordered on cruel, having you so close and knowing you would’ve been against it if you knew he was there.

Vanya placed a hand on his shoulder, not reassuring whatsoever as he defeatedly sighed. Only the two of you could convince him to do anything, and his sister still used it to her advantage.

He stood before you and your friends. Chatter died, you didn’t react. His eyes crossed your closest friend’s after Vanya, and as she nodded downward he understood that everybody thought you would be safer with him.

“Come on, (Name),” he said softly, hoping you wouldn’t make a scene.

You turned your head to the side, facing him. His breath faltered. Frowning, you just stared, mind too hazy to come up with a question to blurt even though a few crossed it.

How was work? Did Grace like the jacket you got for her? Are we going home soon?

He nudged his head to the side, signaling toward the exit. “Come on, you’ve got things to do tomorrow.”

Your friends tensed at his comment, but he didn’t think much of the gesture.

Sissy handed him your coat, watching him carefully. Five held the coat for you to slide your arms in, and out of habit helped you to fold it close and button it up.

You interlocked your arm with his, head lulling toward his shoulder. Vanya shoved your purse into his chest, prompting him to hold it in his hand as he gave her a final nod in goodbye.

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You woke up in an all too familiar room. Absolutely nothing had changed, the walls were the same blue walls you had stared at for hours as you waited for someone who cared more about their job than their girlfriend to get back from work.

By the looks of it, Five had been so busy that he didn't even have time to get rid of things you had gifted him. They were in the place they had been the last time you visited him — books stacked up, music records leaned against the other... the painting you had helped him choose still hung over his desk.

“Ah, you’re awake." His voice made you jump. "Coffee? An aspirin?”

You shuffled, pushing the duvet off your body in order to leave the bed. “Why am I here?”

The cold floor made you shiver. You searched for your shoes, looking down as you inwardly cursed yourself for wearing a dress when Vanya told you not to.

“You don’t remember going out last night? Vanya called me.” He tilted his head as he asked, frowning.

“Yes,” you deadpanned, slipping your shoes on before lifting your head to look at him. “But why didn’t you take me home?”

He winced. “Well, Vanya needed the apartment to herself.”

Dragging your eyes off him, not able to look at his face for too long, you whined, ”Unbelievable! She ditched me to get some pussy!”

Realizing your purse had been on the bed all this time, you popped it open and withdrew your phone. You looked at the time and your eyes widened. “Fuck, fuck. I’ll be late!”

“You’re not going anywhere.”

Your gaze snapped in his direction. He looked so serious that it made your blood boil. “Excuse me? Who do you think you are to tell me what to do?”

He groaned. “We’re snowed in, idiot.”

“No, no, no... this can’t be happening. Not to me. Not today.” You stood by the window and peered out. He hadn’t lied, the streets were covered in white as snow, which was still falling, piled up. You would’ve found the scenery gorgeous if you weren’t so stressed. “FUCK!”

Only you had such bad luck... getting snowed in with your ex-boyfriend today from all days.

“I’m sure your mom will understand,” he tried to assure you.

In any other instance you would’ve found it sweet that he remembered you visited your mom every Saturday, or that he was trying to comfort you.

You corrected him, “I have a date today.”

“Oh.”

Unlocking your cellphone, you scrolled down your contact list. Your finger hovered over the call button. What would you say? ‘Hey, I’m sorry I can’t meet up with you today, I’m stuck in my ex-boyfriend’s apartment’?

Seeing your exasperation as you went through your phone, he painfully said, “Don’t be dramatic, your date must understand you can’t control the weather.”

“We had been putting this off for a while,” you confided him like you used to when he was your best friend, back when he hadn’t broken your heart yet and he still had time for you. “He’s so nice and sweet... “ you trailed off before sighing, “I was hoping not to ruin it.”

“Why didn’t Vanya call him if he’s so sweet?” he asked, voice laced with venom. He was challenging you to lie to him.

Honestly, you answered, “I’m guessing she doesn’t trust him.”

A shiver ran through you, prompting you to rub your arms.

Five walked toward his closet and opened the doors. “You left some clothes here, I’m sure you can find something in case you want to take a shower or get changed... ah! Your red sweatshirt is in the laundry room.”

Unable to keep it in, you shrieked, “You lent my clothes to other people?!”

“Don’t be stupid,” he said, no malice in his tone, “I wore it myself.” Turning around, finding it hard to read your expression, he blurted, “Once.”

You did find something to wear, and for the second time that day, you felt as though nothing had changed. Nothing made more sense than having a space for your own clothes in his closet.

You entrenched yourself in the bathroom as soon as possible. Being around him was worse than you ever anticipated, you wanted to be angry and hostile yet you were too emotionally exhausted for that.

Failed interpersonal relationships were your norm. The day you met Vanya you felt as though you were having a friend for the first time; then Five came around and became your best friend, your confidant. Having him around used to be easy, even when you developed feelings for him.

The day you left him was one of the hardest days of your life. You didn’t cry, only numbness enveloped you in a tight grip — a grip you had gotten free from a little too late.

Your friends tried introducing you to people multiple times, but it never worked. It wasn’t because of Five, not entirely, you simply weren’t good with new people. And you missed Five, but that was different.

Missing him had become an afterthought, work kept you busy in the same stupid way it kept him. Guilt never took over you, why would it when you hadn’t neglected anyone because of your job? In fact, you were sure you would get over him soon when work became your priority.

Until a few minutes ago, the illusion had been good. What a sweet lie you told yourself for weeks and weeks.

You regretted entering the shower the second you turned around to grab some shampoo. Tears prickled your eyes the moment they fell on a familiar bottle. It didn’t have any marks of use, not a single gram dripped down the bottle, dry product was nowhere to be seen around the cap.

You confirmed that the bottle was brand new when you tested its weight in your grasp. A sob escaped you. Why would he keep your favorite shampoo in his shower?

You couldn’t bring yourself to use it, so instead, you grabbed Five’s shampoo and squeezed some onto your palm.

After a tear-ridden shower, you quickly got dressed and stood behind the door for a prolonged moment.

A heavy silence greeted you as you stepped into the living room. You had expected the sound of fingers against a keyboard or page flipping, but instead, you found Five slouched over his stomach with a piece of red fabric on his lap.

Feeling your presence, he murmured, “Here.” Five offered you the sweatshirt which you took hesitantly.

“I don’t use that shampoo anymore,” you blurted before you could process the words your entire being was desperate for him to hear.

He hummed, avoiding your face at every cost as he stared past you. He really needed to decorate the living room, at least a little bit. “You found a better one?”

“No,” you mumbled. Sliding the sweatshirt on, you waited for him to say something. Five didn’t, he stayed in the same position until you sat down beside him.

As he twisted his body to face you and his eyes landed on your face, you were able to see he had been crying too.

“What did your date say?” he asked, ever the masochist one.

You shrugged. “I haven’t texted him.”

“You should at least call your mom. Tell her you’re safe.”

Nodding slowly, you then turned your face to the other side. He didn’t mean anything more than exactly what he said and yet your heart thumped in your chest at a rhythm you had forgotten it was able to beat.

“She misses you. The whole family does.”

“Tell them I miss them too. Please.”

You sniffed, bolting off the couch. Walking into his bedroom, you tried to ignore the strong smell of his cologne as you blindly palmed the bed in search of your phone.

“Are you okay?”

Tears didn’t allow you to see him properly, but you could tell he was leaning on the doorway.

“I don’t want to talk about anything,” you warned him, scared a fight would ensue if you spoke your mind. “My head hurts.”

You heard him move around the room, opening and closing a drawer. Then you felt him close, so close his breath fanned on the side of your face as he spoke, “It’s paracetamol, it’ll be gentler with your stomach.”

Blinking the tears away, you faced him — this time fully. Opening your palm, you waited for him to drop the pill onto it. Five looked down, softly placing the white circle on your palm.

Closing your fist around the pill, you threw your arms all over his neck. Taken by surprise, he felt his hands tremble as he placed them on your lower back.

Nothing extraordinary happened, and you loved it. He was just as warm as you remembered, and you were as comfortable in his arms this time as you had been before.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, careful not to move you too harshly as he pulled you onto his chest, “so, so, so sorry. You can’t even imagine how stupid I feel.”

“Shhh, it’s fine.”

“We both know it isn’t.”

“Don’t wanna talk,” you reminded him.

So he hugged you tighter. And once again, it felt like nothing had changed — because nothing had, because the idea of moving on was nice on paper and nothing more.

“I’m pretty sure the pill melted in my hand...”

He snorted, begrudgingly parting from you. “I’ll get you some water and another one.”

You stared at your reflection in the mirror as you washed your hands and immediately splashed water onto your face. It was cold, but that was exactly what you were looking for in attempts to make your face less puffy after all that crying.

Five watched you in silence, ready to give you the pill and the glass.

Drying your hands, you thanked him and then proceeded to take the glass from his hand.

“Don’t go out with him,” Five pleaded, unable to keep it in for longer. “I don’t deserve it, but please give me a second chance.”

You glared at him as you snatched the pill from his open palm. Instead of giving him an answer, you swallowed the pill.

He took this as a sign that you needed more convincing. “I promise I’ll spend every second of my free time with you.”

You lowered the glass before you could take another sip of water, scoffing as you walked toward the window once again. “Oh, come on, Five, I never asked for that. I just wanted you to put some effort.”

“I’ll do that, then. Anything.”

“Can you really do that?”

“Yes.”

You nodded, placing the glass down onto the bedside table. You were always so eager to believe in him... you could only hope this time your heart didn’t end up in tiny pieces. “It’s obvious that I don’t need much convincing.”

“That’s fine by me.” Five shrugged, looking down at his hands.

You grabbed his hands, making him look at you. He intertwined your fingers with his, biting his bottom lip as you lifted your eyebrows.

He huffed a laugh upon realizing you were waiting for him to kiss you and for a millisecond considered teasing you, but you knew him so well that you had seen through his nervous demeanor.

Leaning in, he stared into your eyes in search for permission. You tilted your head, brushing your nose with his, fanning your breath on his lips. Five’s mouth met yours in the middle, slowly at the beginning.

You let go of his hands, snaking your arms around his neck to bring him closer. His hands found home on your waist, just as he picked up his pace.

As a moan slid past your lips, he slipped his tongue in your mouth. Five moved one of his hands to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss.

Breathless, you were forced to barely push him away. You stared at his red lips as you gasped for air, ragged breath mingling with his own.

And then his lips were on yours again. The hand on the back of your head fell to your spine as he walked you backward. Five laid you on the bed, careful not to hurt you yet never taking his lips off yours.

Pressing kisses on the side of your neck, he roughly grabbed your hips, making you moan as his hard-on was pressed against your crotch.

Your hips worked against his in sync, so naturally that you still had half a mind to wonder how the fuck you had lasted this long without him all over you.

Five’s groans grew deliciously deep as his hands trailed down to massage your thighs. His mouth sucked on your neck as he pulled you flush against him.

You inwardly thanked whichever God existed for the cold weather. Not only did Five look amazing in sweatpants, but the soft material allowed you to feel the outline of his hard cock even through your leggings as he humped you.

“Would really love to fuck you,” you panted, “but there’s no way I’m taking my clothes off right now. I’m freezing!“

He laughed against your skin. One of his hands left your thigh and he tugged on the covers, draping them over both of you, covering yourselves from head to toes.

Five continued to kiss your neck, still moving his hips against yours albeit more slowly.

“I missed you,” he spoke before you could mutter a teasing comment about how desperate he was for you.

You played with the small hairs on the back of his head, humming as you rocked up against him. “I missed you too. But don’t let it get to your head.”

“Too late,” he said cheekily, letting his weight fall on top of you as he leaned into your touch.

You relaxed against the mattress as his warmth combined with the shielding covers seeped through you. Five slipped an arm under your head, fingers brushing your neck as his other hand came up to softly grip your face.

You hummed in acknowledgment, knowing he wanted to say something.

“We didn’t call your mom.”

You breathed out a small laugh. “I wasn’t supposed to see her today, don’t worry.”

He tensed over you, frowning as he processed what you had just said. Deciding to ignore the fact that you were probably planning to hook up with your date, Five slowly lowered his head so it would rest on your chest.

It didn’t matter what you had planned to do when you were there under him. He was still your man, he had felt as such ever since the day you met — and he wouldn’t fuck it up a second time.

#five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves x plus size reader #five hargreeves

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