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sirowsky · 2 years ago

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Well, the day has arrived!

First off, let me just once again say thank you to everyone that took part in this celebration, I've had so much fun with this!

For this special day I've written a bigger story, taking a first stab at Frankie Morales and I'm hoping you'll enjoy reading this as much as I've loved writing it <3

This is Frankie x female reader (called Zoe but otherwise no description) and I'm gonna say Mature rating, because of adult themes and implied smut, so 18+ONLY.

~Trying to escape the whole concept of your birthday, you go for a drive, but it doesn't take you where you'd thought it would.~

Word Count: 8500 Author’s Masterlist Birthday Stories

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-=The Day=-

It was almost that day.

That one day of the year when you wished that it would’ve been possible to just skip forwards 24 hours and be free of the misery, but alas, time was beyond all control, forcing you to endure what always seemed like an endless day, that somehow also always ended before you’d had a chance to experience it.

The day that felt like the perpetual inconvenience to everyone: your birthday.

You’d long since stopped expecting anyone to wanna make plans with you, or even show up if you left an open invitation for the entire day, no strings attached, no gifts required. Unless you hitched your celebration onto something like a casual barbecue, preferably at someone else’s house, and made as little mention of it as possible, no one showed much of an interest.

It wouldn’t have bothered you that much, except you actually liked to celebrate getting older. Getting to live and be healthy for another year, in this increasingly dangerous world, was indeed something to be thankful for, and you wanted to mark the occasion. You didn’t need gifts or flowers, just a few hugs, well wishes, good food and a happy atmosphere, and you’d consider it a truly wonderful day. How was that too much to ask?

This year had no prospects of being anything other than what the last ten years had offered, so for the first time, you’d decided to not celebrate at all. You got up the morning before the day, packed some food and essentials, turned your phone off and stuck it in the bottom of a bag, hopped in your car and drove out of town. There was no planned route or specific destination, you just wanted to drive. To not be in your hometown, surrounded by disappointment, just this once.

The radio was blaring 90’s pop and rock music and you wailed along to the familiar notes of your childhood without a care in the world of who might hear you, dancing in your seat although careful not to lose focus of the road. When you saw something interesting, you explored it, when your ass got numb, you found a place to stop where there were hiking trails and went for a walk. And when you got hungry, you stopped at any decent looking rest-stop and ate some of the food you’d brought.

It was freeing. No one else’s thoughts, wishes or needs to consider, no dull conversations to pretend to be engaged by and no one to distract or annoy you. Just you and your car and an endless amount of road ahead of you. By 10pm you’d driven almost a thousand miles and decided to stop for the night, so in the next town you entered, you found a hotel and took a room for the night, treating yourself to a long hot bath and sleeping in a soft bed.

You got up early the next morning, the dreaded B-day which you were actively ignoring, heading down for breakfast with all the elderly or business-minded early risers, before you’d be checking out, intent on having a very good day all by yourself. The hotel wasn’t that big, but still felt luxurious somehow, and the breakfast buffet was top notch, sporting an exotic blend of warm and cold selections, along with every type of fruit you could imagine, and at least twenty different types of bread.

The cafeteria was small and so most of the tables were full, but there was a seat available opposite a nice-looking guy, reading something on his phone, with those white iPhone earpieces on. You walked over there and gently tapped the top of the table to get his attention and when he looked up, you raised your eyebrows in a silent question, since he still couldn’t hear you, while pointing at the empty chair, with a soft smile on your lips. He looked befuddled at first but once he realized what you were asking, he hurried to pick his earpieces out.

“Oh, sure, go ahead. Sorry about that.”

“Thank you, and don’t let me distract you, I’ll be out of your hair as soon as this plate’s empty.”

“I wasn’t doing anything important, just keeping my hands busy. Please feel free to relax and enjoy your breakfast, you’re not bothering me at all.”

“That’s very kind of you. I wasn’t expecting so many people to be up and about already, it’s not even 7.30 yet.”

“No, but it’s a Thursday so it’s probably mostly people that are here for work and don’t really have a choice. Although, I assume from your comment that you’re not?”

“Oh, no, just travelling for my own pleasure and wanted to get an early start.”

“Ah, I see. I’m here for a wedding myself, and I can’t sleep because I’m supposed to do the whole best man speech, and I haven’t got a clue what to say. I was actually googling speeches when you walked up.”

He looked genuinely insecure about that, and there was something very endearing about the way he dipped his chin and smiled nervously.

“Speeches are hard overall, particularly if you don’t know the crowd. But if you’re the best man then I assume you do.”

“That’s kinda the hitch… the guy’s moderately famous so there’s like four hundred guests. I know him like the back of my hand, we’ve been friends for ages, but I haven’t been around that much the past few years, so I don’t know a lot of the people he hangs out with now. I was actually surprised that he asked me.”

“Some friendships are cast in concrete. Nothing you can do about it. How much time do you have until this shindig, anyway?”

He looked at his wristwatch and chuckled, with an undertone of panic.

“Bout six hours.”

“Want some help? I’m no Woody Allen but I can put together some reasonably entertaining sentences, when I make an effort.”

“Oh, my god, yes! I mean, you’d be saving my dignity from irreparable damage.”

“I’m sure you’d do fine on your own. You strike me as someone prone to self-doubt, but I think you’re probably good at a lot of things, and a lot better than you think, at everything you get into. But I’m happy to help, regardless.”

“Uh… are you psychic, or something? Cause that’s pretty much exactly what my mom would say about me, if anyone asked.”

“Nope. Just observant. You have proficient hands. You can call me Zoe, by the way.”

“Frankie, and I’m ridiculously pleased to meet you.”

You preferred to write with a pen and paper when you were jotting down ideas, so you picked up a small notebook that you always carried in your shoulder-bag, before setting to work interrogating the man about his friend and their relationship. For two hours you traded ideas back and forth, between cups of coffee or tea and getting lost in old memories here and there, and you learned that these two did have a very close relationship, primarily because they were army brothers.

You also sussed out that Frankie seemed to have had a troubled past, which he’d managed to turn around in these last few years after his wife had filed for divorce, which appeared to have been a really rough time for him. In truth, you probably learned more about your current company than about the man who you were trying to write about. But he was easy to talk to and had an inviting energy about him, pulling you in and making you look closer, unintended questions rolling off your tongue with the simple comfort of the conversation. So, when it came time for the two of you to part ways, you suddenly hated the prospect. He'd so easily made you forget what day it was.

“Well, I should get back on the road.”

You tried to keep a cheerful tone in your voice, but even to your own ears, it sounded false, as you walked towards the reception desk to check out. He followed, since he was heading up to his room to get ready, and you wondered what his suit looked like, feeling absolutely certain that he’d look gorgeous whether he wore a tux or a ratty old t-shirt. There was something very appealing about the mix of devoted father with his boyish streak creeping into his features in every smile, and the hardened military man that knew to appreciate the quiet moments.

“Hey, seriously… thank you so much, self-doubt or not, I never could’ve come up with something this good.”

“It was my pleasure. I mean that. It was a wonderful and well needed distraction.”

He just looked at you for a few beats, and you felt like there was something he was chewing on, trying to decide whether to mention it.

“You’re not just on a scenic drive through the country, are you, Zoe? You’re running from something.”

He paused to let you object if you felt like it, but you were a bit stunned, and merely waited to hear what else he’d apparently figured out about you in return. Had you even told him anything about yourself? You couldn’t recall mentioning anything too revealing, so he had to be even more observant than you.

“I’m gonna guess either a job that’s smothering you, or family that perhaps expects too much or takes you for granted.”

You couldn’t do anything but stare at him for about half a minute, until your voice came back.

“All of the above…”

His eyebrows climbed, hearing that.

“Oh, shit. I’m so sorry, that’s terrible. I really didn’t think I got that much right.”

You nodded, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you held them back.

“Yeah, nicely done. Your instincts are impressive.”

“Hey, I’m sorry, are you okay?”

You crossed your arms over your waist and dipped your gaze to the floor for a second.

“I honestly don’t know anymore. That’s kinda what this trip is about. I just need to try and figure myself out, before I decide whether or not to take a huge leap and make enormous changes to my life, in the blind hope that it’ll somehow make me happier.”

A deep breath filled your lungs, making you realize that you’d all but emptied them with that unintended confession.

“Wow… Sorry, I didn’t mean to spew all my troubles out like that, this is supposed to be a happy day for you.”

It was supposed to be a happy day for you too, but no need to mention that. It wasn’t his concern and even though you liked him, you were unlikely to ever meet him again. You made an effort to brighten yourself, meeting his eyes with a smile that you hoped might convey how grateful you really were for the preoccupying task of helping him. But he saw through it.

“How far are you going?”

“No clue. I don’t have a plan, I’m just driving.”

He nodded once, determinedly, and reached a hand out to gently hold your arm at the elbow, something you knew as a supportive gesture, more commonly used on children or elderly. It seemed instinctive and natural to him, probably because he was a parent.

“Then stay in town today. See the sights, enjoy yourself, go to the beach. And when the shindig ends, let me join you again. I’m no youth anymore, so staying up half the night with obnoxiously drunk people is not gonna happen, but a quiet walk through a park or just a milkshake at a burger-place would be nice. I’d take you out for a drink, but I’m trying to stay away from too much alcohol.”

“Sure, I’d like that.”

You blurted the words out before you could talk yourself out of it, and he smiled in earnest, pulling his phone out of his pocket and unlocking it, asking for your number. You gave it without second thought, asking for his in return, opting to scribble it down in your notebook for now, since your phone was still off. And once that was all done, he surprised you by pulling you into a firm hug, whispering in your ear while he held you.

“Sorry if I’m overstepping, but you looked like you needed one of these, and I give good ones. Or so I’m told.”

His tone was light and happy, and it infected you, making you huff a laugh with your response.

“I can confirm it’s true. And thank you, I did need this.”

You parted ways after that, him heading for the elevators, turning back to wave at you while you stood by the reception desk to take care of the checkout, when you remembered his predicament and shouted after him:

“Break a leg!”

He rolled his eyes in response, and you stifled a giggle, suddenly wondering when you’d last felt this kind of enthusiasm.

Turning the phone on later that day turned out to be a mistake. Sure, you would’ve had to at some point, it was somewhat unavoidable, but it was still disheartening to not have a single message from your family, neither birthday related nor even just asking where you were. You added Frankie’s number and left it on, in case he’d get in touch earlier than you expected, before getting out of your car at a travelling funfair that had set up their carousels and markets not far from the city centre.

You had lunch there and then strolled through the markets, buying little trinkets for yourself and talking to random strangers about how the weather was excellent for the fair and how many people had found their way there, even on a Thursday. A couple of hours passed in relaxed walking among happy people, but the noise got tiresome then, so you left the fair and headed for a riverside boardwalk that you’d driven past earlier, just a few streets away.

You’d just sat down on a bench among blossoming lilac bushes, looking out over the sparkling water under the clear blue sky, thinking about how the weather was perfect for a wedding too, when your phone pinged. For a moment, you hesitated to pick it out of your pocket to check it, just in case the message was from a family member. But the prospect that it might be Frankie was way too enticing.

-- Hey, stranger. Bail on me yet? --

You snorted at first, thinking along the lines of “as if…” but then the words settled into your mind, and you realized that he might be genuinely worried that you had. You remembered his self-doubt very clearly, and decided not to answer with a quip, just to make sure that he wouldn’t worry.

-- Hey, handsome. I would never do that to someone so kind. How’s the shindig? –

-- The speech went really well, so I guess I’m gonna owe you for the rest of time. But overall, it’s kinda boring thus far. Should’ve brought a date. --

-- No bridesmaids to chat up? --

He didn’t answer that right away, so you returned you attention to the calm water, thinking he’d been interrupted by something. Which was why, when the reply finally came, some five minutes later, you were surprised to realize that he’d probably just been unsure if he’d dare to send it.

-- I should’ve asked you to come with me. --

You read it three times, smiling wider with each repeat of those few words.

-- I would’ve gone with you. For the excellent company, and to be able to say that I’ve crashed a wedding once. --

This time, the reply was almost instant.

-- Thank you. Although, it’s not technically crashing if you’re someone’s plus one, is it? –

-- Technically, anyone that didn’t rsvp is crashing. –

-- Right. So, where are you now? --

-- Chillin’ on the boardwalk. Feet got tired after trudging around a funfair. --

-- There’s a fair in town? I’d love to see it. Can I meet you there later? --

-- Sure. I was gonna suggest the same, actually. Got my eye on a few carousels… --

-- I’m game. I’ll let you know as soon as I’ve clawed my way out of here. --

-- Not that I’m not looking forward to seeing you, but don’t run off on your friend, okay. He’ll hopefully only get married once. --

-- Ironically, he’d probably be the first to tell me to get my ass over to you ASAP. --

-- Then he’s a truly good friend that you shouldn’t bail on. I’ll look forward to seeing your good-looking ass anytime. --

He just sent a blushing smiley in return, and you grinned widely before putting the phone away again.

*-----*-----*-----*-----*

The smiley might’ve been a bit immature, but at least it was accurate, because Frankie really did blush reading your latest message. He wasn’t overly confident about his looks, even though much of his army physique was very much intact, save for the six-pack having been hidden behind by a soft layer of fat. That wasn’t something that bothered him on a daily basis, more just in situations like this, when he wanted to be as attractive as possible, but there were other things too.

His hair was always too long and too obviously ignored, usually trapped under a baseball cap to keep out of his eyes, and even on occasions like this when he was dressed up, the only effort spent on it was simply to clean it. And the scruff on his chin wasn’t a fashion thing, it was a laziness thing. Also, his ex-wife had hated it, wanting him clean shaven all the time, throwing a fit every time he came home looking ragged after a mission. Since she’d ditched him, he didn’t much care about her opinions on his looks anymore.

The wedding was fine, overall. The ceremony had been short and sweet, no long speeches or minister droning on forever about the sanctity of marriage, just the simple traditional rituals followed by a short walk over to a converted old rectory, now serving as a venue. There the late lunch had been served almost immediately, probably because of the groom’s own insatiable appetite, during which Frankie and several others had gotten their speeches out of the way, and now in the late afternoon, the party was starting.

“Hey, Cat, don’t think I didn’t catch you smiling at your phone earlier. That kinda smile. So, let’s hear it, who is she?”

He’d been so lost in his own thoughts that he hadn’t noticed Benny coming back to the table and sitting down next to him again, after making rounds around the room to chat and mingle, until a hand tapped the side of his shoulder. He tried to school his expression to not reveal just how much he was already warming to you, to try and keep things light and innocent for now, since he had no idea if he’d even see you again after today.

“Just someone I met at the hotel. Gave me some pointers on the speech. Like, loads of them.”

“See, I knew you had help, that was way too eloquent to be all you. But I’m glad to see that smile on you, bro, it’s been too long. You gonna see her again?”

“Uh… Yeah, later tonight. Just casual, you know, don’t make a big deal out of it.”

“In other words: don’t tell the guys so they’ll show up and ‘help’…”

“Benny, please…”

“Hey, listen. You’re my best friend. I got nothing against you going your own way to figure out that whole mess with Cassie, that’s your thing and you gotta do it however you need to. But… I know you’ve been struggling. This lone wolf thing, that’s not you. So, if you’re about to take that leap again, you better believe I’m not gonna let anyone ruin it for you.”

“Damn, Benjamin. You tryin’ to make me cry again?”

“What can I say, it’s my wedding-day, I’m happy and sappy and sentimental. But I mean it, bro. If this woman’s got you smiling like that again, then you need to try and keep her.”

“Easier said than done, man.”

Ben ignored that comment, barrelling straight onto his next question as if Frankie hadn’t even spoken. His way of saying ‘do whatever you need to, but this is what I’m gonna do’.

“You know where she is right now?”

“I’ve got a pretty good idea, yeah. We’re gonna meet up at this funfair in town.”

“Then go. Right now.”

He was about to argue that it was Benny’s wedding and that he didn’t wanna bail, but then he remembered that those were actually your words, not his own. What Frankie himself wanted was just to see you. He put a hand on his brother’s shoulder and squeezed firmly in thanks for his understanding, and then got up and left, not pausing to say goodbye to anyone, and especially not Pope or Will, since that would only pique their interest.

It was a short drive back into town, and he opted not to text you just yet, waiting to see if he could find and surprise you instead. It had been around 3pm when you’d been at the boardwalk, but that was three hours ago now, so odds were good that you’d moved on, maybe gone back to the fair for something more to eat. Once he stepped out of the car, it was easy to tell where the thing was, because an endless stream of people of all ages were heading in, or coming from, the same direction.

He fell into the crowd, following their general direction past narrow cobblestone streets through the oldest section of the city, before reaching a huge open square that continued into a park. The square was absolutely filled with carousels and market stands and street vendors, and the rich smells of all the food stands littered around the place, mixed with churros, cotton candy, ice-cream, donuts and lots more, assaulted his senses in all the best ways.

He figured that the likelihood of finding you among all this, admittedly more than twice as big as he’d imagined it would be, would be next to impossible unless he first contacted you. But just as he reached for his phone, his eyes swept past the nearest donut-vendor, and there you were, not fifteen feet from him. That had to be a good sign. Like maybe this was supposed to happen. He walked over there, reaching you just as you’d paid for your snack.

You turned to the side, your eyes on the warm, freshly made treat in your hand, as you took the first bite and closed your eyes for a moment, in pure bliss at the delectable taste. Fucking hell, you were beautiful. He had to stop himself from reaching for your face and licking off the tiny grains of sugar that had stuck to your lips.

Instead, he let his gaze drop to the ground for a second, so he could take a breath, only to be enticed even further by the realization that you’d gotten changed. You were wearing a lemon-coloured summer-dress that perfectly accentuated your skin-tone. And your curves. He did take that breath, suddenly feeling lightheaded and loving that he was still able to get weak in the knees simply by being attracted to someone. Softly, he cleared his throat, the sound effectively drowned out by the bustle of the street, as he stepped closer, trying to quell the hopeful fizzle that was bubbling through his chest.

*-----*-----*-----*-----*

“Hi, Zoe.”

You’d just stuffed your face with a big bite of donut when you heard the deep timbre of his voice just off your left shoulder, and instinctively turned towards the sound of your name. He took you completely by surprise. It was only a bit after 6pm, you hadn’t expected to hear from him until maybe nine or ten at the earliest, which was the reason for your stuffed face. You’d wanted to keep from eating anything too filling until he got there, since you’d hoped that he’d wanna explore the myriad of food-stands with you.

“Oh… hi. ‘orry…”

There was too much donut in your mouth for you to be able to speak properly, which put a huge smile on his face.

“That looks delicious. Go ahead and finish, I’m not in any hurry.”

You finished the bite but threw the rest of the treat away, no longer feeling the need to satiate your hunger with something so inadequate.

“I thought I told you to honour your friend’s big day. What happened?”

“I told him about you.”

He paused there, still grinning like a kid that had just won a prize, letting you absorb that before he added:

“And just like I said – he more or less made me leave to come and find you.”

“You… I-… What did you tell him, exactly?”

A hint of uncertainty snuck into the corners of his eyes, but his words weren’t tinted by insecurity. All you heard in his voice was hope.

“He could see that something was on my mind, so I told him about meeting this beautiful woman at the hotel, even fessing up to you helping me with the speech, and he all but shoved me out of my chair.”

You couldn’t stop the heat that rushed to your cheeks at that, not that it mattered much because blushes weren’t particularly visible on you. Still, it affected you because of how much he was really saying, be it intentional or not. If you’d suspected it before, you were now certain that Frankie was seriously interested in you, and there was no denying that you already felt the same. However, you had no idea where he lived, and he had no idea where you were from, and even though you were looking for ways to change your life, this wasn’t exactly what you’d imagined.

This was all very complicated. But also… you simply just liked this guy.

“Beautiful, huh?”

He was in a nice dark grey suit, three-piece with a vest in silvery silk, and a white flower arrangement in the breast-pocket. Clearly not something he would ordinarily spend on himself, if you’d interpreted his character correctly, but his friend had obviously picked the attire of his groomsmen with a sharp eye for what suited them.

“Very. I spotted you even in this crowd, so you better believe you look amazing.”

You smiled at that, stepping closer to him and needlessly fiddling with the flowers on his chest, a mere excuse to touch the soft fabric of his suit coat, and get a better sense of his perfume.

“So do you, sir. Very dapper.”

He chuckled, but with a layer of nervousness to it (whether because of your closeness or because he disagreed, you couldn’t tell), and then playfully ruffled his own hair.

“If only I knew how to wrangle this mess…”

Then, before you’d had a chance to reach up and ruffle his hair yourself, which you dearly wanted to do, he grabbed the flowers from his pocket and used the pin that held them in place in there, to attach it to your hair instead, just behind your ear. He smiled warmly at the result, but then quickly left the topic of looks.

“So, I’m assuming you’re hungry?”

“Oh, yeah, I was gonna wait to eat until you got here. It seemed more fun than eating alone, even if you’d turned up stuffed and I’d end up the only one actually eating.”

“I didn’t, and all these smells would’ve kept me craving regardless. But you also mentioned carousels, and if memory serves, they’re not that fun when your stomach’s full.”

“You weren’t kidding about being game to try some with me? Cause I really love a good thrilling ride.”

“Nothing too spin-y, I’m in.”

“Good, I’m not a fan of too much spinning either, so maybe not the Waltzer, but I do love Break Dance.”

“The one with the space-cars?”

“That’s the one.”

He smiled from ear to ear.

“It’s been my favourite for over twenty years.”

You almost squealed in delight, grabbing his hand and leading the way through the crowd, even running whenever there was room, out of pure excitement. Not just to go on the ride, but to have miraculously found someone that loved it as much as you did. How was this even happening? You’d just tried to run away from your family, you hadn’t even been looking to make new friends, and now you’d stumbled on what very well could be the man of your dreams.

There was a bit of a que for the ride, but the wait only served to increase your enthusiasm, you and Frankie sharing shouted comments in each other’s ears, over the thumping disco music, trying to tell each other what you most liked about the carousel. And the fact that the loud noise gave you each an excuse to lean thoroughly into the other, wasn’t bothering either of you. In fact, you both took full advantage of it, letting your hands find purchase on shoulders and arms to keep track of one another’s movements. Once seated, the thing had only just started moving when his arm came around your waist to steady you against his side and make sure you wouldn’t be hurled against the door of the car.

You didn’t mind one bit.

Another three rides on different carousels later, and he was suddenly feeling entirely comfortable keeping an arm around your back, waist or shoulders all the time, and you didn’t mind that either. Your own arm was doing the same to him, especially after he took off his jacket and slung it over his shoulder, giving you better access to his waist. And it all felt so easy. Like you’d known each other for years, hopping from one topic to the next without pause or confusion, recognizing so much of your own behaviour in the other, and being able to laugh about it.

You tried out food from half a dozen different stands and vendors, all of which was good, and then moving on to desserts, learning that you both had a bit of a sweet tooth. At that point, you’d gotten into the games, taking turns trying to show off on the different skillsets, from popping balloons with darts, to throwing baseballs at cans, to the Planet Hollywood cranes, to the big fortune wheel lotteries. Frankie was actually really good with the darts, winning a large teddy bear which he handed to you with a wide grin.

“For you, milady. I have won this prize in the name of your honour.”

You took the bear, which was actually really soft and cute, not at all the cheap crap you’d expected, but still shot a deliberate sideways glance over pursed lips at your date.

“Well now, don’t think this earns you any favours with regards to my loins, good sir.”

He didn’t even bat an eye, only grinning wider and shaking his head at you.

“A common man like me wouldn’t dare dream of such treasures.”

For some reason you felt like he was being very honest with that response, not carrying on the jesting tone that you’d used, and instead perhaps almost by accident, revealing that he truly didn’t believe himself a candidate to your pleasures, much less your heart. It was true that you did ordinarily guard yourself very closely against those kinds of intrusions, but you hadn’t even tried to do that with him. You’d practically rolled out a red carpet for him.

Not that he could’ve known that; he’d only spent a few hours with you thus far. So, how to tell him that he most assuredly had a shot at your treasures, without making it sound cheap or crass? You took his hand again, making sure he met your eyes before you spoke, and there was no longer any trace of jest in your voice.

“That’s a shame. Because I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone more deserving. Of good dreams, or wonderful treasures.”

Something vulnerable and sweet found its way into his eyes in the moment that he managed to keep looking at you, before his head dipped and his right hand came up to scratch at his neck and jawline. He was clearly uncomfortable, and you didn’t wanna push him since this was apparently hard for him, so you just pulled your right hand out of his left one, letting it come to rest around the neck of the toy in your arms instead.

You wondered what had happened to him in his life to make him think so little of himself, where romance was concerned, at least. But this was hardly the time or place to ask. But then, he surprised you. At the loss of your touch his head came back up, and for a brief second, he seemed unsure, before he suddenly stepped closer and pushed the teddy bear to the side, claiming your personal space and lowering his head until his face was a mere breath away from yours.

Your heart leapt into a sprint, abruptly surrounded by his frame, his scent, his piercing brown orbs, turned into hot liquid with the passion that now flowed from him, unrestrained. Big strong arms snaked around your waist, tugging your body closer, but he kept his face at the exact same distance from yours, asking you to make the choice for him. To tell him if he was wanted, if he was permitted, if he was… enough.

You closed the distance slowly, savouring the excitement and hope that kindled within him at the small gesture. He remained steadfast, determined to wait for you to reach him, even though you could see how desperate he was to connect, to taste you and know you in that intimate way that physical closeness could make so clear, when it was a good pairing.

You knew exactly how he was feeling, because you’d been the one doing these things for most of your life, and it was somehow freeing that you got to be the more confident one this time. That you could see the reflection of yourself in his actions, allowing you to know exactly what he needed from you. All you had to do was decide if you wanted the same things.

When your lips finally touched, a brief first contact, careful and soft, he seemed to melt into your frame, as though he suddenly felt permitted to give himself to you. And before you knew what had hit you, a rush of confidence had him glued to you, from your lips to your toes. He kissed you as though he hadn’t known the feeling for decades, craving and savouring and begging for more all at once, leaving you staggering in his tight grip, barely able to keep up with the whirlwind of emotions that were whipping around inside you.

But you loved every second of it, and even through your surprised reaction, he could tell, and thankfully didn’t pull back or get uncertain. He continued to shower you in his passion as your body tingled, heated, crawled with want, and you did your best to not try and manage, edit or filter your responses, to let him feel what he was doing to you, in all its raw beauty. It was harder than it should’ve been, to just let yourself react, but you’d spent your entire life only ever showing what you’d been made to believe was acceptable. Always holding back, so as not to bother anyone, always putting your own feelings last.

But not this time.

When you eventually pulled apart, it felt like breaching the surface after a deep dive underwater. Not just in the sense that you were out of breath, but the noise of the fair suddenly hit your ears as though they’d been covered, and the breeze flowing gently over your skin seemed unfamiliar until that moment.

Your eyes met, equals in their brightness and zest, but neither of you spoke. There didn’t seem to be any words, but even if there were… what could you say? Where was this going? There were so many things that had the potential to pull you apart, and you felt as though voicing them would somehow make them come crashing down on top of you, forcing you to leave and never see this wonderful person again.

Frankie took your hand, stepping away from you, but pulling you along, heading out of the fair. He walked fast, throwing nervous glances at you every few steps and you were certain that your responding ones were just as unsure, but not because of fear of anything that might be happening now. Your only fear concerned the future. The next step.

He brought you to his car and you stepped in without hesitation, neither surprised nor disappointed when the short drive ended back at the hotel from that morning. You got out before he had a chance to second guess anything, taking his arm as soon as he joined you, crossing the street and stepping through the revolving doors, nodding politely at the receptionist before taking the elevator to the floor where his room was.

It was small and simple, but lightly coloured and setting a pleasant ambience, which was all you managed to discern about it before Frankie stole your focus for himself. Still without a single word spoken between you, each of you begged each other that this would last. That this wasn’t a goodbye, but a promise. Just like your birthdays always did, this day and night seemed endless and much too short, all at once, and when you finally fell asleep in the small hours of the morning, it still didn’t feel like it could ever be enough.

*-----*-----*-----*-----*

Waking up beside you the next morning was the best that he’d felt in years.

Cassandra had spent the majority of their last year living together, more or less constantly angry with him, no matter what he did, so there hadn’t been much in the way of physical contact between them. Not even hugs, or the odd brush of fingertips now and then. He’d spent most of that time feeling like an infectious disease or a parasite, that she was trying to get rid of. And in that regard, finally getting thrown out had been something of a relief, because he never would’ve made that decision for himself.

Fear or misplaced devotion would’ve kept him at her side regardless of how bad it had gotten, and a part of him was grateful that she’d had the strength to say ‘enough’. Not to say that it hadn’t been rough. He’d been a wreck for a long time after that, constantly worrying about the kids and what Cassie would do about the legal side of things. It had taken another year before he’d eventually gotten those answers, and breathed a giant sigh of relief that his careful strategy of giving her space without abandoning the kids or making them think he didn’t care about them anymore, had paid off.

She hadn’t pursued any legal actions against him, opting to talk to him instead, and together they’d come up with a system for splitting time with the kids, which even though there had been some hurdles along the way, was still working pretty well, three years later.

And now there was you. The first person he’d dared to bring into this complicated situation, even though he knew that the odds were stacked high against the two of you working out. What little he’d managed to suss out about you, or more accurately, dared to ask, had led him to understand that you lived far from here, had a troublesome relationship with your family, felt strangled by your job, and that you were looking for a change.

Laying there, spooned up tightly to you, watching the absolute relaxation in your frame and feeling the weight of your body against his, with the heaviness of sleep, he so desperately wanted to be that change. Not just because he’d missed waking up next to someone, getting to touch a warm body when he needed or wanted to, knowing he was welcome, but also because he wanted to know everything about you.

What made you smile? What made you laugh so hard that you cried? What made you cry? And why? What were you afraid of - not just phobias and those kinds of big things, but the little things, the gnawing rats inside your brain that could keep you awake at night? What did you dream about? What did you want for your future? What kind of change were you hoping for? And what would you be willing to try, to find it?

He kissed the base of your neck, over and over, trying to wake you even though you’d only slept for about four hours thus far, because he was suddenly reminded of just how limited his time with you might be. Despite sleeping deeply, you stirred after a mere few seconds, perhaps because you too were unaccustomed to nightly company, and as your body slowly came alive you began to stretch and curl your limbs, while a raspy little purr escaped you.

“Mornin’ beautiful.”

“Hey, handsome.”

Shit. He knew he was in trouble when even your hoarse and slurry morning voice was doing things to his chest.

“Feeling okay?”

“Mhm. I owe you now.”

“What on Earth for?”

You sighed happily, letting your feet lightly wrestle with his where they’d snuck outside the covers when it had gotten too warm.

“For the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

He stilled as he absorbed that, because it made so many little details about you fall into place. And then he felt sad for you, because if even your birthday was something you didn’t feel allowed to celebrate, and had opted to try and run away from instead, then your family situation was worse than he’d imagined. You must’ve felt so alone.

“Belated Happy Birthday, Zoe.”

“Thank you. It was perfect.”

“Anytime, angel.”

That was a big promise to make, given your circumstances, but he wanted you to know that he was willing to make those commitments, even though he was really nervous that just saying that out loud would scare you away.

“Yeah? So, you had a good time too?”

This was the moment. The one when he could decide to exist in the present, telling you only how good he felt with you. Or confess how truly terrified he was becoming, at the mere thought of leaving this hotel room and never seeing you again.

“Zoe… tell me……… tell me what I have to do to keep you?”

He felt something pass through the entire length of your body, and for two seconds you were unnaturally still, making him worry that he’d scared you. But then you shifted, turning around to face him, and there was light in your eyes and a smile in your cheeks that for some reason you seemed to be holding back, even though it looked like you’d come to a decision about something.

“Just ask.”

Oh, he wanted to. More than almost anything.

“But, what about…? I mean, you obviously don’t live here, and neither do I. What about your family? And mine… shit, I told you I’ve got kids, right?”

“Frankie, breathe. I’ve got three weeks until I need to be back at work, and my family obviously doesn’t miss me, since my phone still hasn’t made a sound other than your messages. We have some time to figure this out, whatever this is, so for now, how about we just go where the day takes us? Like, breakfast, for example.”

He liked that. He liked that you could see the inside of his head well enough to know that he was overthinking all of this. The two of you were still way too fresh to even begin making commitments and plans and declarations, even though he really fucking wanted to. Casual and simple, see where it leads. He could do that.

“Are you that kinda girl that’s always hungry?”

“Pretty much, but especially when a certain someone’s been draining my reserves all night.”

“Hah, well, I didn’t hear any complaints. Plenty of moans, though…”

He shifted his head closer to yours, intent on stealing a few kisses, but you beat him to it. And not only that, but your lips were followed by your whole body rolling on top of his, wasting no time in letting him know what you were after. It was somehow even better in the daylight, watching your body move on top of him while the sun turned your skin golden, letting him see the play of every straining muscle as you used him for your pleasure.

And he absolutely loved that you did. He loved everything about you.

Yep. He was in so much trouble.

-----

He walked into the breakfast restaurant holding your hand, but instinctively tugged you back when a minor roar sounded shortly after your entry, closely followed by a group of people rising from their seats and coming towards you.

Shit, shit, shit!! How had he somehow forgotten that most of the wedding party was staying here too?

Santi and Will were both howling and smiling suggestively, pointing from him to you and back again as they made their way over, while Benny met his eyes with an apologetic shrug, although smiling just as big. Frankie cringed, unsure of how you’d take this, just as William winked at him.

“I knew you were up to something, sneaking off like that. Come on, you didn’t really think you were gonna hide something like this from us, did you?”

They’d obviously seen or heard about him leaving early and probably pestered Benny about it until he’d told them what he knew. He shouldn’t be surprised, really, and he mostly wasn’t. Annoyed, though.

“I wasn’t thinking about you, at all, Will.”

All three of them sobered up at that, because Frankie wasn’t usually the one to make those kinds of sharp remarks, unless he was dead serious and thoroughly unamused. Benny was the first to recover, taking a step closer and politely holding a hand out to you.

“Hey, I’m Ben. I’m sorry about the ruckus, it’s just been a while since we saw our boy here excited like this, and we’re really glad to see it.”

You shook his hand but before you could respond, Will jumped in.

“Yeah, sorry. We didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, we’re just hungover and stupid. I’m Will, by the way.”

Another handshake, but again, before you’d had a chance to say anything, Santi cut in.

“Truly, our sincerest apologies. I’m Santiago, and if you want us to steer clear, just say the word.”

Frankie was about to spit out that you’d be hard pressed to get a single fucking word in, the way they were behaving. But you beat him to the punch, once more.

“Wow… If you hadn’t been so busy falling over each other to make sure I won’t run away in terror, I would’ve seriously contemplated kicking all your asses.”

He held back a smile as the men suddenly looked very sheepish and he was quite impressed with how much power you were radiating around you, making three beefy and highly trained military operatives cower. It unbiddenly made his mind jump to ‘that’s mom-material, right there’ and he had to sternly remind himself that it was too soon to think like that. But then you smiled and giggled, releasing all the tension of the situation in a single heartbeat, making him stare at you in awe as he realized that it was all an act.

“I’m not that stuck-up, guys, although I will seriously make your butts hurt if you mess with my man. Other than that, I’m Zoe and I’m happy to meet all of you.”

Frankie tried not to puff up too much hearing you call him yours, but damn it felt good. The boys laughed with you, and you shooed them away to their table, promising that you’d join them once you’d gotten your food, but he barely even noticed any of it. He just saw the smile in your eyes. The ease with which you were beginning to fit into his life. The difference between the careful and guarded person that had sat down at his table a little more than 24 hours ago, to the calm and certain and comfortable woman choosing to be at his side right now.

You handed him a plate as if it was a practiced and familiar movement, as if you’d done this hundreds of times before, and he wanted it to be true. He wanted every one of those hundreds of times to happen.

“Babe…”

He hadn’t called you that before, but you reacted as if it was entirely familiar, and that was the only confirmation he needed that he wasn’t about to make a huge mistake.

“I know we said not to look ahead yet, but I can’t help it. I want you to stay. I want you to come home with me and I want you to stay. I-It doesn’t mean that you have to, but I want you to know… that’s how I feel right now.”

Your eyes remained bright and happy as you listened, turning only warmer when he’d finished, at which point you stepped closer and whispered:

“Thank you. I’d like that, but perhaps we should table this conversation until we’re not in a public space anymore?”

Oh…

He looked around, at first befuddled by the sudden reappearance of all the guests that had somehow disappeared from his senses, and then embarrassed by the thought that many of them might’ve heard his little confession. But then you kissed him, once, short, sweet, and he forgot all about it.

The rest of the breakfast was actually really nice, since the boys all behaved themselves now and took a genuine interest in you, asking relevant and intelligent questions, and listening to your answers. And what was even more wonderful, was that you seemed to warm to them with each passing minute, until all five of you were joking and laughing together, any trace of discomfort blown away by your willingness to let this odd little family grow on you.

‘I’d like that.’

You’d said that about coming home with him. Those words sang their own little song inside his head, refusing to be quieted no matter how loud the conversation got.

You wanted that. You were coming home with him. If not now, then in the future. And that was enough.

–=¤=–=¤=–=¤=–=¤=–=¤=–=¤=–

Thank you for reading, and have a wonderful day, lovely people!

@tacticalsparkles @tanzthompson @marydjarin @idreamofboobear @annathewitch @agingerindenial @tiffanyleen @winter-fox-queen @elegantduckturtle @lovefreylove @shadowolf993 @callsigncatfish @hounding-around @cannedsoupsucks @startrekkingaroundasgard @thisshipwillsail316 @ellie-darling @likes-good-reblogs-even-better @nakhudanyx @dihra-vesa @tobealostwanderer @ophelialoveshandsomemen @andiesturgss @deadhumourist @spideysimpossiblegirl @pedrostories @toomanystoriessolittletime @tintinn16 @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @nolanell @bison-writes @dornish-queen @shsoba05 @myfavpedrothings

#sirowsky's birthday celebration #happy birthday to me #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x female reader #frankie x reader #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction

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gucciwins · 3 years ago

Text

The First Kiss

Harry and Y/N go on their first date...will they finally become something more?

Word count: 4814

A/N: I know how much you all love breakout room and the follow up it's your birthday. I love writing them and it's been a while but do know they are doing well. this is nothing but sweet fluff. I do mention the vaccine and wearing masks which I hope you all are doing. it's important to stay safe and truly wish nothing but the best for you all. I love you xxx

please reblog and let me know your thoughts

_____

“Are you feeling good? I sent over a goodie basket.”

Harry giggled, loving how concerned you were. “I’m doing good, baby.” He sees you tuck your head into your sweater smiling, when he notices it’s the one he sent you in a goodie basket after you got your second shot of the vaccine.

It’s spring break, and Harry can finally say he is officially vaccinated after letting the mandated two weeks pass. It’s perfect timing, honestly, as he has been itching to finally see you in person again.

Your university let you know that they would begin to have vaccine dates open to students through an email that you quickly forwarded to Harry. You had to register to get a date for your first vaccine, and slots were filling up fast. You shot Harry multiple texts telling him what day you got and time, but you went without an answer for an hour which is weird, seeing as Harry never liked to leave you waiting more than five minutes.

By the time he got back to you, he had to wait two weeks, unlike you, who would be getting in only three days. You asked why he didn’t answer, and he said he was in class. You frowned because even then, he always answered. He then confessed he lost his phone in his apartment and didn’t have time to search for it.

You laughed about it, but he was disappointed because he wanted to see you. To give you a hug. To hold your hand.

After spending his birthday together, you both decided against meeting in person for safety even though you both wanted to, more than anything. You postponed your date to the future. Instead, you completed the group assignment through zoom meetings that led to facetime calls. After submitting the project and learning that you aced the assignment, well, you both caved in.

Harry gushed on how he always got B’s on the professor’s assignments, and to celebrate, he sent you a dozen cupcakes from the bakery that you never stop raving about located only three blocks from where you live. Then proceeded to call him over to celebrate and who was he to say no. Harry was shocked at how rich and full of flavor they were because he wasn’t aware it was vegan. Yet, it tasted better than anything he ever had. Harry realized why it was your favorite, promising to take you there in person to have your pick of favorites and not only red velvet and carrot cake because they were safe choices.

You couldn’t say you’ve been on a proper date with Harry, but you’d like to count all the zoom calls and facetime calls as dates not that you let Harry know it would only inflate his ego. You’d start a call to ask a question on assignments, and it would lead to sharing stories back and forth of what their favorite book was to where they would visit if they could go that very second. You loved how insightful he was, also liked how he used pastel highlighters to mark his annotations. Harry was a fan of how you always had a pencil in your hair or behind your ear. How you always had a snack on hand because you didn’t want to listen to professors without something to eat or you’d lose focus.

You were glad you’d be able to get together safely but also taking all the needed precautions. Safety is hot, as Harry liked to say all the time when you sent him photos of you wearing your masks.

“Yeah, like the basket?”

Harry grins, but it’s not as bright due to the lacking pixels of your laptop. He holds it up, having placed it in his lap. “I did love the bath bombs.”

You smile back at him, “Going to change your life. Self-care is important, bub. Even in the smallest ways as a bath.”

Harry nods, “I know, baby. The reason I remember to take deep breaths each morning, no longer eager to reach for my phone.”

“Proud of you.”

“And I of you, baby.”

Harry shines his dimples at you when you turn your head away at the sweet name he started calling you a few weeks ago. You adored it, honestly, but it always left you feeling flustered.

“H, please.”

“Baby, I like seeing you flustered.”

“You’re a menace.”

He shrugs, still giggling.

“How are Mitch and Sarah?”

“Wonderful, sickly in love as always. Spend their time at Sarah’s like composing together.”

“That’s sweet.” You lean in, smiling at him, “you know we should all hang out together. I get to meet Mitch properly and see Sarah again, and you’ll get to meet Amy.” You grow excited at the thought.

“Not before I get to see you.”

“H, we got to coordinate a day that works for all of us. No need to get jealous.”

“Not jealous.”

“Sure,” you reply sarcastically.

“Got to learn to share me with Amy. I cook her lunch and dinner; otherwise, she’d be nothing but a walking cadaver.”

“I want you to make me lunch and dinner,” he pouts.

“I can now that you’ve vaxxed.”

“That I am, so you are.”

“Yes,” you’re waiting for him to go on.

“Will you go on a date with me? Think we waited long enough, and if my feelings weren’t obvious enough, I like you and really want to take you out.” he rambles on.

You interrupt him knowing fully well he could go on for days, “I’d love to, Harry.”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Yes, Harry.”

“Great. Friday then.”

“I’m free.”

“I know, know your schedule by heart.”

“Creep,” you gasp at the news.

“Shush, like you don’t have my classes added to your planner.” Your turn to pout.

“I like knowing your schedule, and they overlap.”

“I do too. Look forward to your messages every day between classes.”

“So Friday? What are you planning?”

“A picnic.”

You jump up in excitement, causing your laptop to fall back on your bed before you dive to save it. Harry yelling dramatically in the background as if you just dropped him.

“H, be quiet. You’re fine.”

“Dropped me, darling.”

“Dork.”

He mutters something in return, but you can’t hear him.

“So I’ll prepare lunch because you’ve told me once or twice that you’re hopeless in the kitchen.” Harry doesn’t even try to fight you because it’s true. “You’ll take care of drinks and desserts.”

“Seems like you’re planning the date,” he teases.

“I like picnics.”

“Well, I like you, so I’ll let you take over.”

Your smile turns soft, reaching your hand out as if you could reach in and caress him. “I like you, too. I can’t wait to give you a hug.”

“Counting down the hours.”

“Alright, you have class in ten, and you always struggle to log in.”

“Making me hang up. Not fair.” Harry frowns, debating skipping class for you.

“Don’t think about it, Styles.”

“Fine. Take care, baby.”

“Bye, H.”

A date.

You have a date with Harry.

Finally, it happened.

_____

You were nervous.

Why were you nervous? It was just Harry.

Harry, who wanted to date you from your first meeting, who emailed you asking you out, and who has not stopped talking to you since February. Constantly reminding you of his feelings for you. You hope he knew you felt the same, in texts and sending him little gifts even as small as writing him a letter.

You got up early today to prepare lunch. You decided on sandwiches, a non-messy meal, and Harry always said he wanted to try the bakery bread you use and not the basic store-bought. It was a bit pricey but not as much anymore because you had become a regular, meaning the sweet owner began giving you a discount, especially when finding out you're a student. Still, you always remember to leave a good tip. The turkey sandwiches were finished with cheese, lettuce, and tomatoes. Looked so good that Amy had one as you were making them. You made three and packed them up in your glass reusable containers.

Staring at the sandwiches, it felt like too little food when Harry had told you many times how much he enjoys eating, so you cleaned up and got to make a second meal. You decided on vegetable rice paper rolls. A favorite and easy meal to make that you enjoyed eating. It was packed with lettuce, avocado, cabbage, bell peppers, cucumbers, noodles, and fresh herbs. This was a meal your dad made you all the time as a child with the special slightly spicy peanut sauce that you could drizzle on top.

Harry was going to enjoy this, so you hoped. He promised to make strawberry lemonade. Assured you that it would not be store-bought, and you believed him. During one of your late conversations, he shared how his sister would make him some when she returned from uni. Reminds him of home, he would say.

After packing everything away in the fridge to keep it cool it was time to get ready. You stood in front of your closet for a good five minutes before you began to swipe through the hangers. You knew you wanted to wear a dress; it was warm weather and would only get hotter as the day went on.

You searched your entire closet, there were three options once you had decided on, but you called Amy in to make the final decison for you. She decided on the one sitting in the middle of your bed, which was exactly what you were thinking.

The dress was a white button-front high slit that fit you nicely. You hadn't used it in quite some time, seeing as when you left your apartment, it would be in leggings, sweats, and the first sweater you could slip on.

You couldn't stop looking in the mirror, loving how it flowed around you when you twirled. For accessories, you slipped on a gold ring that had a little heart on it and another that was a gift shaped like a small snake as it was going to scale down your finger. A simple heart locket gifted to you by your grandparents hung right above your cleavage. You decided to leave your hair natural, liking how it air-dried after the shower you had that morning.

There was no makeup on your face, just your favorite rosebud salve lip balm that left your lips soft. Amy insisted you put some on, but you stood firm in your decision, knowing you'd be wearing a mask and didn't want anything smudging.

You looked down at the time on your phone and knew it was time to head down, Harry said twelve, and you didn't want to make him come up to your apartment only to walk down the three levels again. You grabbed the picnic basket that was sitting in the back of yours and Amy's shared doorway closet and made sure to place everything neatly, leaving room for Harry's drink and stashing a bunch of napkins in for any accidents. Basket prepared, you slipped your sunglasses in your hair, placing your lavender tote bag with tiny embroidered daisies on your shoulder that contained sunscreen, your wallet, extra face masks, and a book Harry had told he had wanted to read.

Before opening your door, you put on the white mask that you embroidered sunflowers on. It was one of your favorites, and glad it complimented your look well. You walked down the stairs slowly, not wanting to drop the basket.

You walk out the front door and find Harry getting out of the yellow mask on his face. As you get closer, you can see it's the one you made him. It has bees on it, and embroidered on the left side is 'my honey.' Harry had turned quite pink when he opened the gift he got in the mail over facetime with her. You happily screenshot his reaction, happy to have it to look back on.

As soon as you reach him, it's as if all the nerves you had disappeared. Calm washes over you as he comes to stand in front of you. You can't see the smile he has, but the crinkles by his eyes prove he's just as happy to see you.

"Hi, Harry," you say, your eyes taking him all in.

Harry doesn't hide, he's checking you out, and you're thankful for the mask at the moment, able to hide how bashful you're feeling. "Hello, baby. You look gorgeous. I'm a lucky man."

"Yeah," you swayed side to side, "gave me a reason to dress up."

"Always beautiful, but I'm so glad to see more than just your shoulders." He laughs, and you join him.

"Look pretty, H. I had not seen this cardigan." You reach out, running a finger down over the pastel yellow cardigan that looks to be well-loved. He paired it with a plain white shirt that fits him loosely with Gucci denim trousers that he told you he found a few years ago when he was thrift shopping in London with his mother.

"No, brought it out just for you. Wanted it to match my favorite mask." Although he couldn't see it, you hoped your eyes were doing their job expressing your joy. "Let's put this basket in the trunk. Got a blanket and a few pillows as well as the lemonade."

"And the dessert?"

He chuckles, "and the dessert."

You place everything in the trunk, taking a step back for Harry to close it. He walks you over to your door, opening it for you, you offer a soft thank you, but before you get in, you turn to look at him.

"What is it, baby?"

You stare down at your ribbon-tied wedges before looking up into his piercing green eyes. "Can I have a hug? I just--I'm really happy to see you."

Harry falters for a second before answering, "of course, come here." He's quick to bring you in for a hug, and it feels like home. It's comfortable, and you can't believe you haven't hugged him since February, a good two months ago, when it has honestly felt like a lifetime. "I would have earlier, but when you came out, you truly shocked me with how amazing you looked."

You just hug him tighter, enjoying feeling his strong arms around you. He looks at you smiling. "That was nice." You nod because it was, and if he'd let you, you'd stay in his arms all day.

"Well, shall we go?"

"We shall."

And with that, you were off to your first date with Harry, which would hopefully lead to more.

_____

The drive to the park was short; you unloaded everything from the car once you got there. Harry offers to carry the basket, letting you lead to picking the spot. You walked ahead, glad he brought you to a park you recognized; it's one you liked to walk around during finals week when you were drowning in essays and exams. This was a nice break. On the other side of the park is a lake where you can rent pedal boats, but you were sure they hadn't opened up for business just yet, wanting more of the population to be vaccinated.

You led him to a secluded area laughing when he joked if you were leading him to his murder. Once you reached the clearing, one large tree with lots of shade and a few rose bushes surrounded it.

"It's beautiful here." Harry awed in amazement.

"Yeah, I found it my first year when I was trying to destress; I don't think many people know about it because it's not on the maps."

"Lucky us."

Harry grabs one end of the blanket, helping you spread it on the grass. You set your tote bag on one corner as well as setting down the pillows. As you make your way to sit down, Harry gently grabs your elbow, causing you to turn and look at him; he's holding a bouquet of tulips.

You felt your eyes well up with tears, not used to such a kind gesture; it's been a long time since you've been on a date with someone you really care about, "You got me tulips, H."

You reach forward and cradle them in your arms. "Course I did; I think you deserve all the beautiful things life has to offer."

You set the flowers on top of the basket before straightening up and pulling Harry into a hug. Your arms around his neck, his resting tightly around your waist, "including you," you whisper in his ear, causing him to squeeze you a bit tighter. Harry pulls back, leaving a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"Let's eat, baby. Know you made something delicious for us to enjoy."

Harry set the food out, and you are sure to hand him the wet wipes to clean your hand before you could begin wanting to be clean and not wanting to venture out to find a restroom. He eyed the sandwiches first, then the veggie rice paper rolls.

"Couldn't decide?"

"Wasn't sure what you'd like. So I gave you two options."

"Too sweet angel." Harry leans in to kiss her cheek.

"Think we ought to take off the mask now." You giggle, sad you didn't get to feel his lips on your cheek.

"Yeah, so comfortable it doesn't really bother me wearing them. I am hungry."

You place your mask in your bag, and Harry puts his mask in his pocket. He opens up both containers and digs into the veggie rolls first. He hums after the first bite, chewing happily. "Delicious," he mutters between chews.

"Can add this peanut sauce to give it more flavor, just a tad bit spicy." He watches you as you pick up and spoon drizzle a bit on top, taking a bite. Harry follows your steps taking another bite, and his eyes go wide at the added flavor.

"Shocked, I've lived all my life without this food."

You laugh, "well, now you don't have to."

He chews happily at your response.

_____

Lunch is filled with little conversation, both praising each other for a well-planned meal. The strawberry lemonade complimenting the food perfectly. He brought a raspberry lemon loaf cake for dessert, and you happily admit you ate two pieces. It tasted so heavily, making Harry promise you to buy more in the future for you. He agreed, stating he'd do anything to make you happy.

"It's nice going out with someone, enjoying the sweet fresh air." Harry comments.

You hum in agreement, "I adore my alone time, but with the right company, it can feel just as perfect."

Harry's cheek turns rosy pink quickly, not at all trying to hide from you. You love that he loves to show how much you affect him.

"It feels normal like we've done this hundred of times already.”

You chuckle, nudging his shoulder. "It's cause we have. Just never called any of them dates."

"So you agree, we've been dating since February," he teases.

"Yeah, I think we can say that."

"When was our first zoom call?"

"Hmm...after class a week after your birthday. Think we worked for an hour and talked about nothing for another."

You look over at Harry loving how the sun reflects off his skin; it makes him look like a gift from the Gods. Harry feels your gaze on him, flashing you a big grin, his dimples on display just for you, because of you.

"We will call February eighth our anniversary," he declares.

You laugh, not a silent one but a full-out belly gripping laugh; you can feel the tears welling up in your eyes. Harry sits there confused, not sure where the joke was.

"You alright, baby?" He asks, just a bit concerned.

"That is what you were thinking so hard about; you couldn't figure out a week from your birthday quickly. Took you a good few minutes." You shake your head, trying to catch your breath, tiny giggles still escaping you.

"Oi, no need to be rude."

"Sorry, honey."

"Never claimed to be smart."

"The pretty ones never are," you tease.

"Alright, that's it. I've had enough."

Before you can stop him, he's on top of you, his fingers tickling you from your sides to your thighs. He knows your body getting all your secret spots that make you squirm away from. You almost succeeded in getting one of his hands over your head, but he surprises you by straddling you. You've stopped laughing, but Harry keeps going.

His curls are falling over his head, his eyes shining bright, a new lightness to them. At that moment, you realize how lucky you are, and before you know it, you reach your free hand up and place it on the back of his neck, bringing him down to your lips catching him by surprise.

Harry stays frozen for a second before sinking into the kiss, responding softly, wanting to explore you as he'd been thinking about this moment for months. You love the feel of his lips against yours; you'd happily give up breathing, never wanting to part. Harry tries to pull away, but you chase his mouth, not ready to stop kissing. He smiles against your lips, humming when he places a hand on your cheek, adding more pressure; you're not sure who lets out a moan letting it out into the universe wishing for more, hoping for forever.

You don't get butterflies or fireworks. Instead, you feel the ease of calmness wash over you like when you arrive home after a long day. That's what kissing Harry is like coming home.

You pull back, laying your head on the pillow Harry was wise to bring; you don't try to contain your smile as Harry stares down at you in a look of awe. You run your thumb over his bottom lip-loving how swollen they look thanks to you. His eyes never leave yours; you gasp as he places a kiss on your thumb before taking it in his mouth, sucking it gently; a moan escapes you, surprised at how hot the teasing is getting you.

"You're filthy, honey."

Harry smirks, "just for you, baby."

"Only our first date, H. We aren't going to move fast."

"A makeout isn't too fast for you," he teases.

"Felt just right." You smile, loving the feeling of his weight on top of you as he has not moved from his position, still straddling you.

"I agree."

"Sorry, I didn't ask if I could kiss you. Consent is sexy."

Harry's smile is soft, his eyes flicker to your lips, then back to your eyes, "You hereby have permission to kiss me whenever you please, my love."

"You know all the right things to say to make me puny for you."

"Good to know. Got to keep a mental list."

"What's on there so far?"

Harry smirks, leaning down his mouth right over your mouth; you remember the taste of lemon you felt when you kissed him, and well, you don't try to stop yourself when you attach your lips against his. There's no sweeter feeling, you've decided.

He pulls back, keeping the kiss short, "Know you can't be close to me without giving me a kiss. Know your heart is racing like it might beat out of your chest, and I know you're dying to ask me to be your boyfriend."

"Guess you are smart," you whisper.

He chuckles, nudging his nose against yours, humming as he places a kiss on the top of your nose.

"You know, I was right."

"Yeah, about what, H?" You reach your hand up to run your hand through his curls, brushing them back, giggling as they fall forward again.

"That your laugh sounds better in person. Know it's cheesy but truly music to my ears."

"You nutter!"

"Oi, picking up my slang, are you?"

"Got to, especially when you called that Evan kid a wanker for dismissing my response." You snicker, remembering the moment a few classes ago when you spoke up to give your opinion only for Evan trying to mansplain how women in politics were growing already especially having a female-run as a candidate a few years back. You would have cussed him out, but Harry did it for you. He packed up all your points with his own references. Safe to say, Evan has not spoken up since then.

"Cause he is one. You're the smartest person in the class, and that tosser should not even be in this class. Clearly, hasn't learned one bit since January."

"Settle down, honey. All in the past." You pat his chest a few times, getting his focus back on you. "Got that book you've wanted to read, want to give it a read now?"

"Course, baby. Happy you had it in your collection." He's gotten back into reading now that he seemed to have more time on his hands, and they had been bouncing recommendations off of each other. You had told him to stay off Book Tok because it was the same ten books being promoted by every page. His sister told him to read The Silent Patient, but he couldn't rationalize spending fifteen dollars, and he couldn't find the free pdf. He asked you and told him Amy bought it for you as a gift for feeding her.

"Let me get it out of my bag; you can lay in my lap easier to listen to."

Harry's eyes go wide; you're going to read him. He did not expect that, but he had to make sure. "Going to read to me, darling?"

"If you don't mind." you tuck your hand into your tote bag again, "brought my kindle in case you didn't want to. Won't be sad if you don't want to."

"No, I want you to. Yeah, more than anything. Got the prettiest voice." Harry pecks your lips, pulling back giddy because that's the first time he's kissed you, and well, he has to do it again. Your lips move in sync, the kisses feeling smoother but just as passionate. You break the kiss, playfully push him away, hands-off, letting you adjust yourself before he sets one of the smaller pillows in your lap and lays his head. Your hand is quick to find a place in his hair, thankful you've mastered the one hand reading and page-flipping due to always having a book in your hand growing up.

_____

After reading for a bit, Harry lifts his head from your lap, taking the time to admire you. You kept reading, letting him take you in from this new angle. You stopped brushing his hair instead, allowing yourself to get immersed in the book once again. You giggled, thinking back at Harry's reaction to the opening line of chapter one.

You had just flipped to a new page, ready to start chapter seven, when you saw how fidgety Harry had gotten. He clearly had something on his mind, so you wanted to give him his space; you had only read five words when he spoke, interrupting you.

"Will you be my girlfriend?" Harry blurts, shifting to sit in front of you.

You don't smile, but you know he can see the gleam in your eyes at his words, "Hmmm...will you give me a cute nickname?"

Harry doesn't know what you're doing but goes along with it. "Already do, so yes."

"Will you let me make you more masks?"

"Yes."

"Will you knit me a sweater?"

"I'll knit you hundreds."

You nod, "then yes, I'll be your girlfriend."

"Yeah, you want me to be your boyfriend," Harry teases.

"Dork," you shove his shoulder, causing him to fall back. He gasps in shock.

You laugh, and it's music to his ears; his dramatic response is swallowed as he takes you in. Harry isn't sure where he'd be without you. He takes in the happiness displayed on your face and knows if you could look in a mirror, he'd look just as happy if not more. You are a light in his life.

These last few months have changed everything about him. Harry hadn't really understood what it meant when people said that your partner should also be your best friend. He thought it was cheesy and something to give false hope to others, but with you, he knew it was true.

Starting off as friends built a strong foundation for you both to grow together, and he is forever thankful you took a chance on him.

Harry called it fate, but you well, you think it was all thanks to the zoom gods who set you up in a random break out room not once but twice.

_____

thank you for reading :) I adore you xx

271 notes · View notes

mintwithchoco · 4 years ago

Text

loonathesmut: Tease

LOOΠΔ Kim Lip x Male Reader

Word Count: 7100 words

Categories: smut, oral, facefucking, facial, subtsundere! kim lip

note; finally after weeks of writing, i'm back with another story! this is a continuation to my first smut, so i suggest you read it first to understand the story a bit better.

this story is also dedicated to one of my favorite writer, @nsfwtwicecatcher ! since he likes giving kimberly lippington a facial, this is gift for him :3 happy belated birthday! (hopefully i'm not too late oof)

special thanks to @arrivalatdawn for helping me out with the story.

again, happy new year and enjoy! ;)

aff link

"That's all for today. Remember to read chapter 7 and 8 for our next class!" The lecturer said before everyone stood up to leave the lecture room.

You pack your notes and laptop into your bag hastily, rushing for your next event for the day.

"Hello, baby brother? Can I ask you for a little bit of help? I'm gonna be busy this Wednesday and we haven't finished packing up stuff for our move to the new dorm. Since half of us will be staying at the dorm to finish packing, I figured that they would need some...extra hand. Hopefully you can help out!"

You walked through the crowd of students while keeping a safe distance from them. You looked at the watch on your wrist. 12:14 p.m. You gasped silently and started to run, eventually reaching your car at the parking lot after almost hitting on a bunch of people on your way. Getting inside your car and taking a couple of deep breaths, you calmed the adrenaline rush in your body. After a few minutes, you start the engine, turn on the radio and drive off to loonathedorm.

20 minutes later, you finally arrive at the building where your stepsister's dorm was. You parked your car at a nearby parking lot, grabbing your stuff and a few bags of snacks that you purchased from a nearby convenience store. You make your way into the building and take the elevator up to the level where the dorm was at. As the elevator reaches the designated level, the door opened, revealing two people that you are all too familiar with.

"Oh, hi oppa!" "Hello oppa!" Both Heejin and Hyunjin greeted you.

"Hey! Where are you guys going?" You asked them as you got out of the elevator.

"We're gonna get some more boxes! We have too much stuff…" Heejin said while pouting. Hyunjin just stares at the plastic bags that you were holding.

"Oh, alright then. I bought some snacks, so be quick before the others finish it. And don't worry Hyunjin, I bought bread as well." You said, making Hyunjin smile.

"Thanks oppa!" Hyunjin responded.

"We'll be right back!" Heejin said and grabbed Hyunjin's hand as they went inside the elevator. You wave at them goodbye and head towards the dorm.

You arrive at the door within seconds. A nervous feeling suddenly came over you as this is the second time you are visiting the dorm. The first time was around a month ago, when Jinsoul invited you to Yeojin's birthday party. You haven't gotten closer to Jinsoul's other bandmates besides Heejin, Yerim and Jiwoo. You got close to them during their debut concert when you visited Jinsoul backstage. You pressed the doorbell followed with a nervous sigh. A few seconds was all it needed for the door to be opened by Chuu.

"Oppa! Come on in, we just started packing!" Jiwoo said in a happy tone.

"Perfect, right on time!" You said and went inside the dorm. Jiwoo goes back to her room to continue her work while you take off your jacket and shoes in the doorway. You hang up your jacket and put your shoes on an empty spot at the shoe rack. As you walk to the living room with the bags of snacks in hand, you look around the surrounding of the dorm.

The dorm was pretty clean but full of boxes scattered around containing the girls' stuff. It was a pretty small dorm for 12 people to live in, so you were happy that they are finally moving out after 3 years. You put the bags of snacks on the living room's table. Yerim suddenly appears in front of you , carrying a box that looked far too heavy for her. You quickly went to her and grabbed the box as her hands were getting shaky.

"Phew! Thanks oppa! You can put it there," Yerim said as she points to a stack of boxes beside the couch.

"No problem. This is really heavy, are there rocks inside?" You joked.

"It's just some clothes!" Yerim chuckled at your joke.

"Well, surely you have a lot of them. There you go." You put down the box carefully on top of a bigger box.

"Thanks oppa!" Yerim beams a cute smile at you.

"You're welcome. Have you guys eaten yet?" You asked her.

"No, we were too busy packing…"

"Well, I bought some snacks so-" You sit down on the couch and take out the snacks inside the plastic bags that you brought.

"Let's take a break!"

"Yeay! Thanks oppa!" Yerim sits on the couch and immediately opens up a bag of Cheetos.

"I'll get the others real quick." You stand up and head towards Jiwoo's room while Yerim munches down on the Cheetos. As you arrive there, Jiwoo is taping up a box while Jungeun is cleaning the windows.

"Hey guys! Are you done with your work yet?" You asked.

"Uhh, just a bit more oppa. I just have to tape up that box and I'm done!" Jiwoo replied.

"Alright then. Jungeun?"

"Can’t you see that I'm still cleaning?" Jungeun replied in a cold tone.

Kim Jungeun, a.k.a Kim Lip. Presumably, the sexiest member in LOONA. While her face emits the vibe of a charismatic woman, her personality is completely different. She has a great sense of humor as most of the memes in the LOONA fanbase are about her. She's also a caring and liable person. Jinsol once told you that she is one of the members that usually cooks for the others and she always loves cleaning around the house.

But, for some reason, she always seemed angry at you, keeping her words to a minimum and striking you with harsh facts sometimes. You asked Jinsol why she was acting that way and she simply replied with, "I don't know, maybe she's interested in you." You simply disagreed with her as there was no way you would fall in love with Jungeun since you have Jinsol embedded deep in your heart.

"Jungeun! That's not how you talk to oppa!" Jiwoo scolded Jungeun.

"It's fine. I just wanna say that the snacks are waiting for you guys and it won't take long before Yerim finishes it all,” You said and left the room to join Yerim back at the couch in the living room.

"Oh my god, you annihilated a bag of Cheetos already?!" You hold up the empty bag of Cheetos on the table.

"Hehe, sorry oppa! Can't help it," Yerim said while drinking her Coke.

"Is there any bread left?" Hyunjin bashed through the front door followed by Heejin who was holding a bunch of folded boxes. Both you and Yerim jumped in shock because of the sudden interruption. Hyunjin quickly sits beside Yerim and searches for her precious bread. Heejin puts the folded boxes at the hallway leading to the living room and joins the rest on the couch.

"Mmm~! Ish bwead ish sho fwuffy!” Hyunjin said as her mouth was already stuffed with bread.

“Yah, don’t talk when your mouth is full! Especially when oppa’s around,” Heejin said as she grabbed a pack of candies from one of the plastic bags.

“It’s fine, it was cute anyways,” Hyunjin choked and spat out her drink as she heard your compliment. Heejin and Yerim just laughed at her as she was coughing pretty badly.

Eventually, Jiwoo and Jungeun joined in after a few minutes. The room was quickly filled with conversations, the girls talked about their successful comeback while you talked about how you almost burned your house down when learning how to make macarons.

Whenever you talk, you realize that Jungeun will always focus on you, even though she was keeping a straight face. She spoke the least out of the six of you and will constantly nod or shake her head to a question. At one point, you made eye contact with her and in a split second, she turned her face away from you, hiding her shyness.

‘What's up with her?’ you thought.

But the conversation that was happening was too interesting for you to think about it furthermore.

2:15 p.m. All of you start packing the girls’ room items. Your job was mainly to pick up the boxes or lift some furniture since you are the only male there. Sounded easy, right? That was your thought before Kim Jungeun caught your attention with her outfit. She was wearing a black tank top that didn't do well on covering up her black bra underneath and black tight shorts that were showing off her beautiful legs.

You wondered why she picked that outfit for the day as it was clearly uncomfortable for her. Her top was always slipping down everytime she moved, allowing you to see her cleavage. You tried to avoid looking at her but she keeps coming into your sight as if it was intentional. Your lower region was starting to get warm and it was definitely not the right time to get a hard-on. You kept thinking about gross things that can help your boner to calm down but the moment when Jungeun bent down to pick up some stuff right in front of you, it was game over. You immediately go to the toilet to cover up your raging boner before any of the girls notices it.

About two hours later, Heejin taped up the final box, officially ending all of the work. All of you sit down on the couch and let out a sigh of relief. You were grateful that no one notices your bulge throughout all of that, otherwise you would be dying because of embarrassment.

“Hey guys! Sooyoung unnie just texted me that they are at the arcade nearby, should we join them?” Jiwoo asked while looking at her phone.

“Heck yeah!” Heejin excitedly replies.

“Oppa, are you going too?” Yerim asked you.

“Nah, you guys go ahead, I’ll just wait for noona here.”

“Lip unnie?” Hyunjin asked Jungeun.

“I’m too lazy…” Jungeun said and slowly laid down on the couch.

“Okay then, let’s get ready!” Jiwoo said and went to her room, followed by Heejin, Hyunjin and Yerim.

“Don’t bother me unless it’s something important.” Jungeun said to you before going back into her own room. You just shrugged off what she said and played around with your phone. After seeing the girls leave, you turn on the TV and watched a drama to kill time. You thought that Jungeun had already fallen asleep since she is tired and you didn’t hear any sounds from her room.

An hour passes by and your stomach starts to grumble. The snacks earlier didn’t really fill up your stomach, so you decided to cook some ramen. Before going into the kitchen, you remember about Jungeun and decide to ask her if she wants some. You walk up to her room’s door and knock gently.

“Hey, I’m gonna cook some ramen, do you want some?” You asked through the door.

“Ugh..hah,” You hear Jungeun’s voice through the door. It sounds like she is struggling, you thought. You knock on the door again.

“Are you okay in there?” No answer.

“Do you need help?” Still no answer.

Worried about her, you swiftly open the door. Your eyes search for Jungeun who was fixing the window curtains while tip-toeing on a chair to help her reach it. She didn’t notice your presence at all and was struggling with the curtains as it was stuck on the curtain rod. Before you can ask her anything, your attention suddenly diverts to her back that is facing you. You slowly eye her from head to toe a few times before locking your eyes onto her ass. Heck, you know it was wrong, but who can resist closing their eyes to this perfect and handful butt? You were hypnotized, dirty thoughts were already generated in your brain as you stared at them longer.

Suddenly, Jungeun loses her balance as her right foot slips on the chair and makes her fall. Luckily, you were there and reacted quickly enough to catch her from falling. Jungeun was shocked to see you catch her. Not to mention, she perfectly landed onto your arms and you both were in an awkward position of a bridal carry. Time stops for you as your eyes land onto hers, seeing another side of Kim Jungeun who was always giving you cold glares. You feel her body getting warmer on your arms and her cheeks turn red.

“Are you okay?” You asked her.

“Y-Yeah..you can put me down now..” Jungeun spoke in a soft tone for the first time with you, making you also blush at how cute she sounds. You gently put her feet first on the floor and removed your arms from her legs and her back. The air around the both of you was getting awkward and after a few seconds of silence, Jungeun finally speaks.

“Why did you come into my room, pervert?” Jungeun was back to her cold self but her shyness still remains visible on her cheeks.

“Chill out, I was just asking you if you wanted some ramen or not. And, if I didn’t barge into your room, you could end up with a back pain.” You answered back, making Jungeun sigh.

“You got a point. I am feeling hungry right now so why not. I’ll cook though, I don’t trust you in the kitchen.” Jungeun said before heading to the kitchen followed by you.

“The bags of ramen are on the right cabinet. If you wanna add in some more stuff, look in the fridge.” Jungeun said while washing her hands. You simply nod and open the cabinet that Jungeun pointed out. You grabbed three bags of spicy chicken flavored ramen and placed them on the kitchen counter. As you are about to check out the fridge for some ingredients, you saw that Jungeun is struggling once again, this time with getting a pot on the top of the cabinet.

“You know that it’s easy to ask for help, right?” You said and went behind her to reach the pot. Jungeun’s eyes widened as both of your bodies are closer to each other once again. She looks at your face that is focusing on the pot. Seeing how much you like to help her out makes her feel something funny. As she thinks about it longer, she starts to blush madly and her heart pounds fast until she realizes that you had grabbed the pot and saw her blushing.

“Here.” You said while giving her the pot, ignoring the fact that she is blushing.

“Thanks..” Jungeun replied, feeling relieved that you didn’t ask further.

After the little sweet moment, both of you start on making the ramen. You mostly prepared the ingredients while Jungeun does the mixing and cooking. 25 minutes later, Jungeun places the pot of hot ramen that is ready to be served on the dining table, which you have already cleaned and prepared with bowls and chopsticks. The savory aroma of the ramen fills the air, making you drool even more. Both of you sat down at the dining table, facing each other and started to dig in. You scooped a spoonful of the ramen with the ladle and put it in your bowl. You lifted up some of the ramen noodles with your chopsticks, gently blowing onto it to cool it down before putting it in your mouth.

"Mmm! So Jinsol noona was telling the truth about your cooking," You complimented her as the ramen you tasted was very delicious.

"Of course she would tell the truth. But I feel like I've added too much spice.." Jungeun said before taking a sip on her drink to reduce the heat on her tongue.

"I can handle the spice though, you're not that big of a spicy fan eh?" You said, continuing to slurp on the noodles.

“Shut up.”

A few minutes passed by and the pot was already empty. You both are still eating the last bits of the noodles in your bowls. Jungeun is fanning her clothes, feeling hot because of the spiciness of the ramen. This allows you to have a great view of her cleavage under her tank top once more, which almost made you spat out the noodles in your mouth. Even though the air conditioner was turned on, sweat formed on her forehead and her neck and your eyes focused on the beads of her sweat that was dripping down her cleavage. You gulped. Jinsol would probably kill you right now as your cock started to grow hard again.

“I feel so hot…” Jungeun said as she kept fanning her clothes that were drenched.

“You really are hot, Kim Jungeun.” You say softly, not wanting to be called out as a pervert by Jungeun again. You both finished up the food eventually and you offered to wash the dishes since she helped to cook the food. It was also a way for you to cover your bulge that is sticking out. You cleaned up the dining table and brought the dishes to the kitchen sink to wash them while Jungeun went back to her room.

You dry off your hand with a cloth near the sink after washing all of the dishes. You walked back to the living room and saw Jungeun doing yoga in front of the TV. She was still wearing the tank top from earlier, but has changed her shorts into leggings which hugged her thighs and her cute butt perfectly. She is doing a position where her feet and her hands are on the ground while her hips and her torso are kept high, like a certain sex position. You were stunned at your place, completely seduced by her sensual aura that is making you hard for the third time. You watch every part of her body like a hawk, gradually increasing your arousal level as you already think about how to take her down. You quickly put that thought away once Jungeun realizes that you are looking at her.

“W-Why are you doing yoga at this time?” You ask her before she could say anything in hope that she won’t call you out.

“I wanna work off the ramen that we just ate.” Jungeun said before moving into another position. This time, she lays down her body flat onto the yoga mat and lifts only her torso up with her hands, allowing her butt to clench and showing you how perfect it looks. You bit your lips at the sight, thinking how easily you could rip her leggings off and fuck her ass right at that moment. But you surely don’t want to be killed by Jungeun for suddenly invading her privacy so you have to keep your cool.

You slowly walk towards the couch and sat there while Jungeun is focusing on the TV that is playing a yoga guide show. You pull out your phone from your pocket and play around with it to distract yourself from staring at her body. As she wasn't looking at you, you fixed up your pants to hide your boner. You scroll through your phone, opening up apps that you never really open while burning the image of you fucking Jungeun in your head. After a while with a few more position changes, the yoga guide show is almost at the end as there is one more position to do. Jungeun lays down on her back and raises up her legs while bending her knees. She places her knees around her shoulder area and her arms on her feet to exert some pressure on it.

The position is called Happy Baby as said on the TV, but to you, it just looks like she was ready to receive a cock in her pussy. Because she is on the floor, her crotch area is exposed to you and your imagination of stripping her naked in that position is starting to flow. Your dick was painfully hard at this point, and your patience is starting to run out. Eventually, you stand up, planning to let out your desires in the toilet until Jungeun stops you.

"Giving up already?" Jungeun said in a teasing manner.

"I'm sorry?" You pretended to be confused.

"Hm, still want to defend yourself eh? I know you're having a boner right now." Jungeun releases herself from the position earlier, stands up and gets closer to you. Your eyes widen as you are getting exposed by her.

"I've noticed that you've been eyeing my body, especially my ass." Jungeun gives you a little smirk while crossing her arms.

"I-I'm sorry, I-"

"Shh...There's no need for that. I'll forgive you, but with one condition..." Jungeun gently pushes you back to the couch and straddles your lap. She brought her lips to your right ear and blew hot breath onto it, making you squirm under her body.

"Please me, just like how you did to Jinsol unnie."

The gentleman switch inside your body was turned off once you hear those alluring words. You wrapped her legs around your hips and lifted her up to carry her to somewhere comfortable. You made your way to her bedroom and pinned her down to the bed, not caring to close the door since there is no one else that can witness this sinful act.

"You are going to regret saying that, Miss Kim Jungeun." You leaned your head closer to her and pressed your lips against hers. The taste of her cherry lips makes its way into your taste buds while she reciprocates by moaning into your mouth. You feel her body is getting warmer with each passing second and her kisses are getting a bit more rough. Her tongue asks for entrance in your mouth, so you part your lips and both of your tongues dance while exchanging saliva into each other's mouth. Your hands makes their way down to her thick thighs, the culprit that has made your dick feel pain throughout the three times you got hard for her. You moved your hand up and down, caressing it to show your affection. As you continue to explore each other’s mouth, both of your breaths are decreasing overtime so Jungeun pushes you away from her lips and pants heavily.

“Jinsol unnie was right, you are a great kisser.” Jungeun says and wraps her arms around your neck. You looked deep into her brown eyes and admired her facial features. You gotta admit, she is one of the most beautiful women that you have ever seen, alongside Jinsoul of course. Her gaze that was filled with lust enamored your heart, making it beat faster than normal.

“Do you want me to suck your cock?” Jungeun asks you and you unhesitantly nodded to her question.

“Eat my pussy out until I cum, then I’ll let you fuck my face.” Jungeun moves her body back to the headboard of the bed, inviting you to strip her naked. Like a cat, you crawl towards her and tower over her body. You grab the bottom hem of her tank top and pull it upwards. Jungeun raises her arms to allow you to remove it from her slim body and throw it away somewhere in the room. Even though Jungeun is not as thick as Hyejoo or as curvy as Jinsol, her body is still a killer, packed with a sexy ribcage, a small waist and of course, beautiful legs.

Your lips instantly latched on her neck, giving her a few kisses here and there to increase the tension between you both. The sweet scent of her perfume was still there despite her being sweaty because of the spiciness of the ramen and the yoga that she did earlier. Jungeun moaned softly at your kisses but tries to silence herself to keep her cold act. Feeling a bit bolder now, your hands slowly reach behind her and unhook her black bra. You heard the hooks come off one by one, eventually letting her bra fall down by itself. A sigh of relief was also heard by you as Jungeun felt the tension on her chest was released. Her perky breasts were finally revealed to you - Jinsol is bigger than her, but you can say that they are pretty handful.

“Fuck, you’re so hot Jungeun.” You say before planting a quick peck on her lips.

Unable to contain your lust for her anymore, you forcefully grab onto her leggings and rip them open, earning a screech from Jungeun that you always hear in the LOONA memes compilation videos on YouTube. “Hey! Calm your hormones down! Thank god that this is already ripped, otherwise I will be chopping your dick off.” Jungeun was slightly mad at you for destroying her leggings but thankfully, she was okay with it.

You continue to strip her naked by peeling off the ripped leggings off her legs. As you throw away her bra and her leggings off the bed, you are slightly shocked to see Jungeun wasn’t wearing any panties underneath her leggings and is now fully naked right in front of you. Fully mesmerized by the sight, your cock was begging to be released from its confines. But, you already had a deal with her - make her cum and you’ll get a facefuck. Easy.

“Are you gonna eat me out or-ahh..” Jungeun let out a soft moan as you drive your hands towards her clit that is already wet with her juices. You traced her clit with your fingers as you watch Jungeun’s face gradually easing into the pleasure. Jungeun closes her eyes and leans back while you smirk, thinking that she is now under your control. As you continue to move your fingers on her clit, Jungeun spreads her legs and throws her head back, giving you the approval to taste her.

Your hands have moved itself to her thighs to keep her in place while you eat her pussy out. Steadily moving your head down to her glistening clit, you stick out your tongue and lick the juices on her clit, making Jungeun squirm slightly. She tastes sweet and you are addicted to it right away. Not wasting anymore time, you capture her clit with your lips and swirl your tongue, making small circles around it. Jungeun’s hands made it to your hair, gripping onto it tightly as you keep giving her clit the attention that it wants. You feel the burning sensation on your scalp but nothing matters at this point. The only focus that you have at this point is to give Jungeun what she desires.

No progress will be made if you keep using your mouth, so you start moving your hands to her clit and use your fingers to stimulate it. Jungeun's pussy continues to flow out more nectar and her eyes roll back in satisfaction. You pull your lips away from her clit and teased her splayed lips using two fingers before pushing them into her warm and tight cavern. Jungeun reacted with an erotic moan once your fingers enter her body. Moving the joints of your two fingers inside her pussy causes her to flinch around and breathe heavily. She equips herself with a pillow nearby to muffle her moans in reason to keep her tsundere character alive.

You pull your fingers away from her clit slowly and thrust it back inside her deeper than before. You repeat this action several times and eventually find a perfect rhythm. Jungeun was not expecting you to be this good as her moans were getting louder each time you thrust into her. After a few more thrusts, you felt a certain type of flesh inside her pussy has made contact with the tip of your fingers. Jungeun immediately reacts by pulling your hair harder and bucking her hips onto your face even more.

“F-Fuck yeah, that’s the spot...keep doing that,”

Upping the pace of your thrusts into her, you continue to hit her g-spot. Your lips latch onto her clit once again, this time with your tongue assisting your fingers to thrust into her pussy better. Jungeun has lost control over her body, shaking violently and constantly screaming out curse words into the pillow she is holding.

Suddenly, Jungeun lets out the loudest scream into the pillow. Her thighs spontaneously wrap itself around your head, locking you in as she climaxes. You feel her juices flowing into your mouth like a waterfall and drenching your palm at the same time. Her orgasm was really big as you failed to keep all of her juices in your mouth. When you feel that her thighs have weakened its grip on your head, marking the end of her orgasm, you pull out your fingers from her pussy and lapped up the excess juice on her folds. You gulp down on her sweet cum and with a big sigh, you move your face away from her thighs.

There is no other sight that can beat the sight that you have now right in front of you. Jungeun’s face was flushed with satisfaction, her legs were still spread open and her chest was heaving up and down as she was still in a daze after her strong climax just now. You smiled, admiring how much of a mess that she has made.

“Hah..v-very well then, you have impressed me. Now, for your reward.” Jungeun said before moving herself away and pushed you to the headboard, replacing her spot earlier.

She straddles your lap once again and smashes her lips onto yours, tasting herself in your mouth that was filled with her cum just now. In the meantime, her hands find the hem of your pants, reaches inside and drags it off your legs. Pulling her lips away from you after several minutes, Jungeun’s face makes its way down to your crotch that shows off your prominent bulge under your boxers. You squirmed as Jungeun cups your bulge and blows a hot breath onto it. She licks the tip of your penis through the thin fabric of your boxers before pulling it down to uncover your penis. You felt the cold air around the room on your shaft, making it throb and twitch harder.

“Hmm, not as big as I thought, but surely this is enough.” You felt a bullet was shot through your heart.

Jungeun places her hand on the base of your cock, causing it to leak out precum from your slit. She licks her lips before painting a strip of saliva along the underside of your shaft and stopping on the tip. You moaned as Jungeun spits all over your cock and starts sucking on your tip. Her tongue collects all of your precum while her hand spreads her saliva all over your cock, not leaving any parts of it dry. Your cock continued to throb in her small hand alongside your moans that are beginning to increase in volume.

You can’t believe that the cold Kim Jungeun is now on your cock, giving you the fantasy that you desired. Spitting more saliva onto your cock, her hand glides up and down you with no resistance. Her lips detached itself from your tip, giving her fingers access to it to trace your slit and releasing more of your liquid. Jungeun giggles at the expressions that you were making.

“You really are a pervert…” Jungeun said before indulging your cock into her mouth.

Your body weakens once you feel the insides of her mouth with your cock. Jungeun began to bob her head up and down while still grabbing a hold on the base of your shaft. You brought your hand to her head, running your fingers through the soft blonde strands of hair. As she looked up at you, you realized that she looks gorgeous with a cock in her mouth, a sight that will surely make any man happy. Her mouth continued to fill itself with your length until you felt your tip reach the back of her mouth, causing her to gag loudly. Your hands automatically hold her head as the warmness of her mouth and the lustful gag that she lets out is driving you into maximum pleasure.

Jungeun taps on your thigh after a while as she was losing some oxygen. You quickly removed your hand from the back of her head and Jungeun releases her mouth from your cock with a pop, leaving strings of saliva along the way. She takes this time to breath properly to prepare herself for the next act.

“Get off the bed and fuck my mouth.”

You got off the bed quickly while Jungeun gets on her knees. After you remove the last piece of your clothing, she parts her lips, ready to receive your cock again. You hold onto both sides of her head and push a few inches of your cock into her mouth. You start your thrusting with a slow rhythm to make her feel comfortable. As she looks up to you with a gaze filled with lust, you push your shaft even more, causing saliva to escape from the sides of her mouth. When your shaft hits the back of her mouth, she gags on your cock, followed by teardrops on her eyes as she is on cloud nine on how well you are using your reward.

Developing a faster rhythm as time goes by, Jungeun’s face is starting to get messy with her tears and her saliva. You didn’t care about it since you were chasing on your own desires. Sweat formed on your forehead as you fuck her mouth harder. An idea suddenly popped into your mind and after one final deep thrust, you withdrew your cock out of her mouth. Jungeun hyperventilates once you release your grip on her head and wipes off the excessive saliva on her face with her hand.

“Impressive...considering that you haven’t cum yet, you are allowed to fu-” Jungeun was cut off by you grabbing her arms and pinning her to the bed.

“I’m done with you being in charge, now let me take over.” You said sternly, emphasizing on the words, ‘take over’.

Your lust for her was unstoppable at this point. Turning her body around, her face was now buried into the bed. You forcefully grabbed her hips and bent her knees, allowing her hips to stay up. Raising her head slightly to look at you, Jungeun was stunned at your changed behavior. She found it rather attractive, how your eyes were burning with lust and how rough your actions were getting.

As your hands were still on her hips, you moved them to her butt and gently squeezed her cheeks, causing Jungeun to squirm under your touch. Seems like your idea is starting to work out. Using your right hand to stroke your hard cock a few times, you line it up with the pink lips of her pussy that was radiating with heat. Jungeun feels your tip nudging at her entrance and bites her lip once you push it in further. With a satisfied grunt, a few inches of your cock is finally in her cunt. Her walls were suffocating your cock with its tightness but you ignored the pain that you were feeling. Your hips begin to move, thrusting your shaft into her in a slow manner. Her juices were smearing your length, allowing it to slide in and out of her pussy with ease. Jungeun buries her face into the bed to silence her moans, not wanting to show herself falling into your dominance.

You realize what she was doing and you definitely didn’t like it. So, you grab a handful of her long blonde hair and pull it towards you, raising her head so that you can hear her lewd moans. Jungeun stayed strong however, holding her breath a few times and biting her lips harder to resist herself from moaning. Increasing the rhythm of your thrust into her tight cavern, your goal is to make her moan and give up on her tsundere character. Her body shakes in your arms as your thrusts get more aggressive, considering how you are gritting your teeth while pounding her. You lean your body onto her back and rest your head on her shoulder, giving kisses on her neck right after.

“I know that you’re enjoying this, so drop the tough act already,” You gave her butt a harsh slap before bringing your lips closer to her ears.

“And moan for me.”

Like a spark ignited in her body, Jungeun finally lets out her beautiful moans. You smirked, delighted at the fact that Jungeun is now under your spell, which is the pleasure that you are giving her. You continue to thrust into her warm walls even further, increasing the volume of her moans before putting an end to your rhythm and pulling out your cock out of her body, earning a whine from Jungeun.

“Tell me how much you love my cock.” You grab her by the neck and gently squeeze it to force out an answer from her.

“I love your cock so much oppa! Please keep fucking this slut until she cums!” Jungeun screamed.

“Don’t tell me what to do!” You said and gave her ass two hard slaps.

“Ahh! I-I’m sorry oppa…”

“Lay down on the bed. Now.” Your cold tone sent shivers down Jungeun’s spine and quickly enough, she laid back down on the bed and waited for your actions.

You climb back on the bed and move towards her, putting her under your body. You gave her a quick peck on her lips before spreading her legs apart and lining up your cock with her damp pussy once again.

“You can’t cum until I say so. If you cum, I won’t hesitate to punish you.” You said and immediately inserted your cock back into her pussy, making Jungeun scream with ecstasy.

The intensity between you both was at its limit as Jungeun leaked out more and more of her juices from her pussy and your cock throbs harder inside the tight grip of her pussy. Your head leans closer to hers, intently gazing into her heavenly brown eyes that filled with passion and desire. At that moment, Jinsol was completely lost in your mind as you have fallen in love with the woman right in front of you named Kim Jungeun. The rhythm of your pounding never slowed down, instead it keeps going faster and harder. Although your back is starting to emit sweat, your lust for her powers your body to keep going.

No other sounds were heard in the room except for the squelching of her wet and warm walls receiving your shaft, the squeaking of the bed because of your hard thrusts and the symphony of moans from the both of you. Challenging Jungeun’s endurance, your hands land on her perky breasts and begin to knead it gently, aiming to stimulate her into her orgasm. Her pink nipples erect once you use your fingers on them, pinching and pulling it until you replace it with your lips. Gently sucking on her right nipple, a persistent flow of high-pitched moans escapes Jungeun’s lips as the pleasure was too much for her.

“Oppa…please...” Jungeun begged you.

“Giving up already?” You said with a smirk, referencing her words earlier.

Without giving a care to her words, you keep penetrating her hot flesh while teasing her tits. The tip of your cock came into contact with her g-spot and Jungeun screams out your name. You were in euphoria, the pleasure that you were getting was a lot for a man to have. The knot in your stomach is starting to build itself, signaling your upcoming orgasm.

"Do you want to cum baby?"

"Yes please! I want to cum all over your cock pleease!"

"Then, cum. Cover my cock with your cum." You demanded.

Jungeun came instantly. You feel as the walls of her vagina gripped onto your shaft. Her juices gushed out everywhere, mainly coating your cock and your balls. Some leaked out and landed on her bed. Her orgasm was bigger than the first one, acknowledging how you have successfully raised her senses.

"B-Baby..I'm close..." You alerted her.

"O-Outside…" Jungeun weakly replied.

Hearing her words made your brain come up with one decision. You fuck her in a relentless pace as the knot in your stomach grew tighter. Feeling your cock is twitching inside her, you immediately pull out from her tight pussy and straddle her torso, aiming your cock right in front of her face. Jungeun was still weak from her orgasm just now and didn't realize what you were doing. You stroke your cock with a fast motion, easily sliding in and out of your hand because of her juices lubricating it. Eventually, with a big groan, streaks of white and thick semen burst out of your tip, painting Jungeun's enticingly beautiful face. She closes her eyes as she comes back to her senses with more ropes of cum landing on her cheeks and her forehead.

After the last streak of your cum lands on her nose, her gorgeous face is fully covered. You sighed and admired the mess that you had made, the cum that was dripping down and the satisfied expression pictured on Jungeun’s face. Jungeun slowly opened her eyes to be greeted with your sweet smile and your cock that was still throbbing. She was lost in your eyes for a brief moment but suddenly, she pushes you away from her.

“Goddamnit, now I have to clean your filth off, ugh...” Jungeun said and went to the bathroom to wash her face.

“Jungeun I-” You sighed as she closed the bathroom door.

Jungeun looked at herself in the mirror from head to toe. Her thighs were stained with her own cum, her nipples were still erect due to your teasing and of course, her face was coated with your semen. She smiled. Licking a bit of your creamy semen on her lips, she squealed at how she finally tasted a part of you. Worried that you might leave soon as she has another plan set up with you, she quickly washed her face at the sink and got out of the bathroom. You didn’t realize that Jungeun was already out of the bathroom and were about to wear your clothes before a hand stopped you from doing so.

“Shower with me?”

#loona smut #kim lip smut #loona #kim lip #kpop smut #kpop fanfiction #reader insert #male reader

628 notes · View notes

flourgirl · 4 years ago

Text

Sleepyhead

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Peter will try just about anything to help out the very pretty insomniac from his math class.

Work Count: 11.2k

Warnings: Just some sweet, pure fluff with a few curse words every now and then.

A/N: Either the tags aren’t working for me or you guys just didn’t like it, but the final part of “Even If It’s a Lie” has been out for a few days now if anyone’s interested in reading it 🥺 Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this super long piece I’ve been working on to help me get through finals <3

“Touch you softly I call you up late at night No doubt it isn't right But you could be my one and only” -Softly, Clairo

Peter had seen you around campus a few times, but it wasn’t until you started sitting two rows ahead of him in his linear algebra class that he really started to notice you.

He thought you were really pretty, and he liked how cozy you always looked in the puffy winter coat you kept on in the perpetually freezing lecture hall. You took a lot of notes, which told him that you cared about the class, and never showed up without a giant cup of iced coffee.

You’re being a creep, Peter told himself. He had thought about switching seats to somewhere in front of you, so he could actually listen to his professor discuss permutations instead of staring at how you chewed on the end of your pen when you were thinking.

It was even worse when you started sleeping in class, your soft hair falling around your shoulders as you leaned your head against your desk. It seemed like all the coffee in the world couldn’t keep you awake, and Peter wondered if he should ask if you wanted to borrow his notes or something. But that would mean him admitting to looking at you way more than he needed to, and that was weird, so he quickly dropped the idea.

Still, he was worried about you. So when he came back from patrol in the middle of the night and bumped into you outside of the dorm kitchen, he figured it would be the perfect opportunity to introduce himself and maybe even find out why you were so tired all the time.

The only problem was that he had accidentally knocked your pan of banana bread out of your hands, and you were currently staring at it laying on the floor with your sleepy eyes, not saying anything.

“Shit, uh, I’m so sorry,” he told you, crouching down to scoop up the remnants of your late-night snack into the pan. “Were you really up baking at 3 a.m?”

You blushed a little, starstruck that the cute guy from your math class was talking to you. “Um, yeah. I couldn’t sleep, so I figured I’d come down to the kitchen while nobody else was here and make something. Baking always helps me calm down, and so here I am. And here we are. And there’s my bread, all covered in whatever kind of dust the custodians refuse to sweep down here.”

He offered a soft smile, and it made you feel better about the fact that you were rambling way more than you wanted to.

“I’m Y/N,” you continued, gently taking the pan from his hands. “You’re in linear algebra with Professor Meyers, right?”

“Yeah, you, um, you sit right in front of me. Well, not right in front of me. Two rows in front of me. Shit. I’m not creepy, I promise. It’s just… uh… My name is Peter and I’m going to stop talking now.”

That couldn’t have possibly gone any worse, he thought. You were probably thinking he was a serial killer or something.

“It’s okay. I know you sit behind me,” you reassured him. “You answer a lot of questions.” He was cute and smart, and you hoped he couldn’t notice how flustered you were to be this close to him.

“What are you doing up so late?” he asked, which made you laugh at how ironic his concerns were, considering he was also wandering around the dorm basement at this hour.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you replied, sitting on one of the benches that jutted out of the walls of the corridor. “I mean, you’re here too. At least I was baking. What’s up with you?”

You had a point. “I had an emergency… with my internship. I work for Stark Industries, and Mr. Stark rang me in the middle of the night to come to the lab immediately for something, so, yeah. That’s why I’m awake right now.”

“Okay,” you said, not buying his story. “So that’s why you have a black eye and you’re lurking in the basement hallway? Did Tony Stark punch you?”

Fuck. Did he really have a black eye and not notice? He didn’t think that Doc Oc’s stupid mechanical arm had punched him that hard, but apparently, he was wrong. And now he had to come up with some reason as to where it came from, although he could already tell that you were about to call his bluff.

The only solution he could think of was to change the subject. “Why are you always asleep during class?” he blurted out, causing you to give him a funny look before frowning down at your slippers.

“Isn’t it obvious,” you yawned, stretching your arms out in front of you. “I’m an insomniac. It’s actually kind of funny. I never really had any problems with falling asleep until I moved here. Maybe it’s the cold weather or the constant pressure to get good grades, but I just can’t sleep anymore. It sucks.”

Normally, you’d never tell this much about yourself to somebody, let alone a complete stranger. But somehow, you felt really comfortable around Peter. There was just something about him that made you feel warm and fuzzy inside.

Peter caught himself staring at you again, your baby pink pajamas a far departure from how put together your usual outfits were. Even without your makeup or hair done, you were still the prettiest girl he had ever seen. For some reason, even the dark circles under your eyes were really cute to him.

“You never answered my question,” you reminded him, hoping that he’d say something to fill the awkward silence. “What’s with the black eye and wandering around in the middle of the night? Are you some kind of superhero?”

“What? No! That’s crazy. Me, a superhero,” he laughed awkwardly, wondering if you had somehow figured out his secret identity. Had you spotted him that one time he made sure that you and your friends got home safely from a late-night study session? Even so, you totally couldn’t have known it was him, right?

“Relax, I’m just joking,” you giggled, thinking about how cute he looked when he was flustered. “Although my friend did tell me she thought she saw Spider-Man a few weeks ago on her way back from a party.”

“Haha, yeah,” he breathed out, a wave of relief washing over him. It was times like these that he really started to appreciate how well-hidden his muscles were underneath all of his oversized sweaters.

“Does that hurt?” you asked, bringing your hand up to lightly brush his lip, which was bleeding. He flinched instinctively before settling under your touch, your eyes focused on the small cut. “I have a first aid kit in my room if you want some help cleaning it up.”

“Oh, no, it’s cool. I wouldn’t want to bother your roommate,” Peter told you, scooting further away on the bench, nearly falling off the edge of it. Ned hated it when he stumbled in at some ungodly hour after patrol and woke him up.

“Don’t worry about it,” you said, standing up and gesturing for him to follow you. “I have a single.”

Peter looked at you in awe. Freshmen never got rooms to themselves, and yet somehow you had one. “Okay, fine. But only because I’ve never actually seen a single in this building before.”

“That’s cool with me,” you smiled, reaching for his hand so he could keep up with your pace. He noticed that you were chewing some of the banana bread, which he really hoped was from the part that didn’t fall on the floor. To be fair though, it did smell really good.

Not only did you have a single, but you lived on the first floor. Peter couldn’t believe how lucky you were, considering the building that the two of you lived in didn’t have any elevators to traverse its seven floors.

He was even more shocked when you opened your door, revealing the coziest dorm room he had ever seen. How on earth did you transform the glorified prison cell into something that felt so... comforting? From the twinkling lights that were wrapped around everything and the soft rug under his feet, Peter found it really hard to believe that you had trouble sleeping here.

“Sorry, it’s a bit messy,” you apologized, piling your many throw pillows and blankets into a basket to clear up some space on your bed. “You can sit here.”

If this was messy, then Peter and Ned’s room needed some serious help. “No worries,” he said, watching as you rummaged around your drawers in search of your first aid kit.

Eventually, you found it hidden under a bunch of graph paper and colored pencils, untouched ever since your overprotective grandparents had helped you move in. “Here we go,” you mused, now looking inside it for alcohol wipes and band-aids.

He winced as you rubbed the little cloth against his lips, and you made sure to be more gentle as you cleaned up the other cuts on his face. Thankfully, nothing was bad enough to require stitches, something you were seriously under-qualified to do.

All Peter could focus on the entire time was how close you were and what it would be like to just kiss you right then and there, but he knew that was way too forward of him. Plus, he didn’t even know if you liked him like that. Surely you were just being nice.

Still, the way he caught you staring into his brown eyes after smoothing a band-aid on his forehead made him think otherwise.

“You’re going to have to tell me eventually who beat you up,” you sighed, gathering up wrappers to throw away and tucking the first aid kit back into its place in your drawers.

“It’s a long story,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding your stare.

“I’ve got time,” you replied, climbing onto your lofted bed to sit next to him, innocently brushing your bare leg against his jeans, which made his breath hitch. “Tell me about it.”

“Uh, how about another time?” he stammered, hopping off the bed and running his hand through his hair. “After class tomorrow, or something. It’s getting pretty late. We should, um, go to sleep.”

“You can stay here if you want,” you offered, his eyes widening at your invitation. “On the bean bag, I mean. It’s actually really comfortable. You mentioned something about bothering your roommate and I figured that maybe you’d like to avoid the trouble tonight.”

“Oh…” Peter hesitated, looking for a reason to say no. He knew he’d never be able to sleep knowing that you were in the same room as him. “I don’t have any pajamas.”

“True,” you agreed, a little disappointed that he wasn’t interested in sticking around.

“I don’t actually even wear pajamas to sleep,” he continued, making you look back up at him instead of playing with the hem of your shirt. “It’s just… I sleep in my boxers.”

“I’m sorry for asking. I didn’t mean to put you in an uncomfortable situation,” you sighed, your face hot with embarrassment.

“It’s not that! I mean, I do want to stay here. But, uh, you… well, you make me really nervous, Y/N,” he muttered, his glance bouncing around the room.

“Why?” you asked, your brows furrowing. “Did I do something?”

“No, no! Nothing at all. I promise, okay?”

“Okay. You can, um, get ready for bed, I guess. I promise not to look,” you assured him, turning on your side to face the wall.

“Thanks. Yeah, alright.” You heard him fumbling with his clothes, his sneakers making a soft thud on your floor. You did your best to resist the urge to glance back at him.

“Can I just use any of these?” he asked, although you had no idea what he was talking about.

“Peter, I’m not looking, remember? You’re going to have to be a little more specific than that.”

“The blankets. Do I just pick one, or are you particular about them?”

“Oh. You can use whichever one you want to. But the coral one’s the softest and my personal favorite.” Peter stared at the basket in confusion. To him, they were all just pink. But based on touch alone, he pulled one out that he figured was a little more orange than the others.

He walked over to the light switch and flipped off the overhead fluorescents, letting the room be illuminated by the warm glow of your fairy lights, which weren’t too bright, but still twinkly and beautiful.

“Goodnight, Peter,” you whispered, snuggling into your comforter in the hopes that your heartbeat would slow down and let you fall asleep for once.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” In a matter of minutes, you could hear his soft snoring, and you figured that it would be okay just to take a quick peek since he’d probably be bundled up in one of your blankets.

His hair was perfectly messy, and he looked so cozy wrapped up in the blanket you had recommended. Still, as much as you could stare at his adorable face all night, you were exhausted. Burying your face under the covers, you did your best to calm your nerves and get some rest before class tomorrow.

----------------

“Peter,” you whispered, jostling him lightly by the shoulders in the hopes of waking him up. “Uh, we have an hour before class. I was thinking that it would be enough time for you to go shower and change, and then we could go get coffee or something.”

He blinked back up at you, amazed at how well he slept on your bean bag. You had already gotten ready for the day, doing your makeup and picking out one of your many fluffy sweaters to keep you warm in the New York snow.

“Thanks, that sounds awesome,” he yawned, accepting the hand you held out to help him up. The blanket fell, and you stared at each other in shock, having forgotten that Peter was in nothing but his underwear.

You dropped his hand as fast as you could, covering your eyes. “Oh my god! I’m sorry. Shit, I completely forgot, Peter. I’m so sorry. I’ll let you get dressed.”

Peter watched as you stumbled around the room, your eyes squeezed tightly as your hands attempted to guide you away from him.

“Y/N,” he started, catching your attention as you nearly ran into your bed frame. “You can open your eyes. Really, I don’t care if you see me like this if it means I can keep you from breaking your nose.”

You hesitantly opened your eyes, relieved that Peter had already managed to pull his pants back on. Still, he was completely shirtless, and you found yourself staring at the abs you would have never expected to be hiding underneath his clothes.

Moments later, you averted your gaze, although you knew that he probably noticed you looking at where was now covered by his plaid button-down and dark blue sweater.

“I’ll, um, be right back,” he muttered, before practically sprinting out of your room and up the stairs. You groaned in embarrassment, burying your face in a pillow before attempting to take a quick twenty-minute power nap.

Peter couldn’t believe it. Sure, he had thought one time about you seeing him without clothes on, but this wasn’t how he thought it would go at all. Still, the image of you staring at him shirtless, your face flushed, made him feel like he was going to have a heart attack.

“Dude! There you are,” Ned screamed, startled at his roommate’s unexpected entrance. Peter panted, having run up four flights of stairs as fast as he could. “Wait a second. Did you finally get laid? Is this a walk of shame?”

Before Ned could praise him any further, Peter was grabbing a change of clothes and sprinting towards the bathroom. Don’t think about her, he begged himself.

The memory of your leg touching his last night immediately came to mind, and Peter was so angry at himself for being this starved for physical intimacy. To be fair, though, you were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, and so he cut himself some slack.

Shit, he told himself, making sure the water was set to cold. He needed to calm down, but instead, his thoughts were stuck on how good you looked in your pajamas, but also how good you would look without them and—fuck it.

Peter liked you a lot, and if thinking about you like this in private kept him from being a complete weirdo in person, then maybe he just needed to get his feelings of desperation over with.

When he came back down to your room about thirty minutes later, you were still super tired. You trudged your way towards the door, your hair now noticeably messier than earlier, but at least that meant your nap had been a success.

His hair was still damp and this time he was wearing yet another blue sweater, which made you wonder if he ever wore any other color. He had his backpack slung over one of his shoulders and a nervous smile on his face as he locked eyes with you.

“Hey,” he said, pushing some of his hair out of his face. “Are you ready to go?”

You leaned against the doorway a little bit, letting out a yawn that was literally the cutest noise Peter had ever heard in his life. “Yeah, let me get my backpack.”

“It’s so heavy,” you continued, rightfully complaining as the weight of all its contents practically pulled you downwards. “I think it’s so stupid how almost every professor bans computers from class. Like, it’s not fair that I have to lug around three textbooks every day. I don’t have time to run back to my dorm in between classes like some people!”

Peter frowned. Three textbooks were nothing to him, but he knew that you didn’t have spidey-strength and that you were also pretty tiny compared to him. It must’ve been hell on your back to be carrying all that stuff around every day.

“I can carry it for you,” he offered, holding out his hand to switch with you. “Here, you can take my backpack if it’ll make you feel better. I have a lot of programming classes today, so I’ve only got my laptop and a notebook in there.”

You gave him a look of gratitude as he traded bags with you, literally taking the weight off your shoulders. He was right. His backpack was much more manageable for you, even if the dark grey contrasted with the light colors you always wore.

In contrast, it looked kind of odd for him to be walking around with a backpack that was covered in a soft pink floral pattern, much like everything else you owned, but the sight of him carrying your books brought a smile to your face.

It was one of the sweetest things a guy had ever done for you, and Peter wasn’t even your boyfriend. He probably didn’t even think of you in that way.

“Uh, where do you usually get coffee?” he asked, slowing his pace so you could keep up. He felt bad seeing how tired you were, no doubt due to the lack of sleep you got last night.

“The Starbucks next to Hendrie Hall,” you replied, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. “You?”

“I don’t drink coffee,” he admitted. “I’m actually more of a tea person.”

“Oh,” you hesitated, wondering if it was worth it to walk all the way across campus just for a caramel ribbon crunch frappuccino. “We could go somewhere closer then.”

“It’s okay,” Peter reassured you, grabbing your hand and pulling you along to your destination. “I like walking.”

----------------

You hadn’t really talked to Peter since that morning before class, but sometimes you would peek behind you and catch him stealing glances at you. Eventually, he had started to feel brave enough to give you a little wave whenever you caught him looking at you. Well, at least the times when you were awake.

One day, not even the loud shuffling and growing chatter of your classmates exiting the lecture hall could wake you up, and Peter figured he better do something before you got chewed out by one of the TAs.

“Y/N?” he said, leaning closer so that you could hopefully hear him. “Y/N. You gotta wake up. Class ended three minutes ago.”

He shook you a little bit, nervously hoping that you wouldn’t mind him touching you. Your eyes fluttered open, and you smiled softly as soon as you realized it was Peter.

“Oh. Thanks,” you said, standing up to slide your empty notebook into your backpack. Your hand brushed the side of your mouth, making sure you hadn’t drooled onto yourself.

“You can borrow my notes,” he offered, glancing at you sheepishly as you gathered up your coat and fixed your hair. “If you want to.”

“That’d be great,” you sighed, wondering whether you should skip your next class and just go take a nap. At this point, you weren’t even bothering to put on makeup and you basically wore whatever clothes you had that weren’t already sprawled across your room.

“Are you alright?” Peter asked, walking close to you to make sure you didn’t fall over. He knew you were an insomniac, but you looked seriously sleep-deprived today. “Have you been sleeping at all lately?”

“Nope,” you huffed, lugging your perpetually heavy backpack along. “But I’m skipping the rest of my classes today. I’d rather lie that I’m sick through an e-mail than have to explain to my professors why I was sleeping during their classes.”

“Fair enough,” he agreed, stopping you in your tracks to take your backpack from you. “I’ve actually got some time before my next class. I can walk you back to your room and give you my notebook if that’s okay with you.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you told him, reaching to take your bag back from him, although he didn’t let you.

“Y/N. Come on, you’re exhausted. At least let me carry your stuff, alright?” He had such a kind look in his eyes, and you certainly didn’t have the energy to keep arguing for no reason.

“Okay.” You crossed your arms, the cold air slowly waking you up as the wind hit your face. Your ears were super cold, but you were glad you had pulled your hair into a quick braid to keep it from flying everywhere.

It wasn’t long before you were kicking your boots off in your dorm room, your teeth chattering as you wrapped yourself in a blanket.

“Do you want some tea?” you asked Peter, inviting him to sit down wherever.

“Sure, but I thought you drank coffee,” he reminded you, watching as you pulled an assortment of tea bags for him to choose from.

“I do,” you said, handing him the box and running to your bathroom to fill up the electric kettle. “But you drink tea.”

Peter’s ears suddenly felt hot. You had gotten tea just for him. Or maybe you were just a really good hostess and kept some around for all of your visitors. Probably the second option, he thought.

“Are you even allowed to have one of those?” he asked as the two of you waited for the water to boil.

“No,” you laughed, sitting next to him on your bed. For someone with so much space to themselves, you really needed to invest in more places to sit. “But you can’t have candles or fairy lights either, so I guess I’m just a rule breaker.”

“Guess I’ll just have to report you to the RA,” Peter teased, getting up to make himself a cup of earl grey. “Do you have any sugar?”

“Top drawer on the right,” you replied. “Do you have a sweet tooth?”

“Yes.” You watched as his lips blew on the tea to cool it down before remembering that it was weird to stare.

“You should let me bake something for you. What’s your favorite dessert?” You were kicking your dangling legs, suddenly feeling a lot more awake than this morning.

“Chocolate cake. With chocolate frosting,” he said in between sips, walking back over to you. With you on the tall bed and him standing, your faces were level with each other.

“I’ll have to make you one to thank you,” you smiled, peering into his eyes. Peter felt your heartbeat quicken, and the grin on your face as you stared at each other made him weak in the knees.

“Can I get those notes?” you asked, making him remember that people don’t just look at each other and say nothing like that.

“Oh! Yeah, definitely.” He quickly set the mug down on your nightstand to rummage through his backpack, flipping one of his notebooks open before handing it to you. “There are the ones from today, but all of the ones I’ve taken this semester are in there too.”

“Wow,” you laughed, making a worried expression form on his face.

“What’s wrong? Are they not good?”

“No, it’s not that. They’re just, uh, very thorough.” He had basically transcribed your professor’s lectures onto the pages. “You must write really fast. But thank you, Peter. I really appreciate it.”

Peter nodded before nervously gulping down the rest of his tea, not even noticing how hot the liquid still was as it nearly burned his throat.

“I should go now,” he started, looking around the room for his things. “I want you to get some rest, Y/N. Please.”

He had this look in his eyes that was so genuine—so full of care and concern—that it made you want to do whatever he asked you to.

“I’ll try,” you told him, awkwardly rubbing the top of your arm in the hopes that you could actually fall asleep after he left. “Have a nice day, Peter.”

“Bye, Y/N. I’ll stop by later,” he said, already halfway out the door. “For the notes, I mean! Uh, bye. Again. Okay. I’m going to go now.”

You giggled, giving him one last wave before he left. Like magic, the more you thought about how Peter was worried about you, the easier it was for you to drift off into a peaceful sleep, finally feeling at ease for the first time in weeks.

----------------

You woke up later that day to Peter knocking on your door, this time standing next to some guy in a brightly colored Hawaiian shirt.

“Hi, Y/N,” Peter greeted you. You looked a lot less tired than when he saw you this morning, which relieved him. “This is my roommate, Ned. He just wanted to know who I’ve been hanging out with, so I hope it’s okay that I brought him here to prove you’re real and not a figment of my imagination.”

Ned leaned closer to you, your hair still a little messy from your nap. “Blink twice if he’s paying you,” he whispered, causing you to giggle. Peter looked on nervously, unsure of what his best friend had just said to you.

“What did you say!?” he asked, lightly pushing Ned on the arm, knowing that it was probably something meant to embarrass him.

“Ow! Okay, now I’m really not telling you,” Ned replied, rubbing the spot where Peter had just hit him.

“Y/N, what did Ned say to you?” He turned to you, a worried look on his face as you and Ned held back your laughter. Peter’s face turned as red as a tomato, making you instantly feel a little bit bad.

“It was nothing, Peter. Really,” you said, pulling him into the room with you. “It was nice to meet you, Ned. I’ll make sure he’s back before curfew.”

Ned laughed, offering a quick thumbs up and mouthing “I like her” to Peter before you shut the door on him.

“I knew that was a mistake,” Peter sighed, his back against the door. You were still a bit giddy from the exchange, giggling softly as he slowed his breathing.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed around me,” you reassured him. “We’re friends, right?”

“Yeah, of course. It’s just that…”

“What?” You could barely hear him as his voice trailed off.

“Well, uh, not all of my friends are, you know…”

“Spit it out, Peter,” you said, leaning closer so that you could hear him better.

“They’re not as pretty as you,” he muttered, making you blush at his words. Did he really think you were pretty?

“Oh. Thanks,” you smiled, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. Peter lifted his head up, relieved that you didn’t think he was a creep or something.

“Your notebook’s on my desk,” you continued, stepping back a little to give him some space. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding as the distance between you and him grew. “I just took a bunch of pictures, so I can look at them on my computer whenever.”

“Alright, awesome,” he said, walking over to collect it before turning back to you. “How’d you sleep?”

“Pretty well, actually. The best I’ve slept in a while. I think you’re some kind of good luck charm.”

“Really?” he asked, a little surprised that he had been helpful.

“Really. You know, I’ve been thinking…”

“Yeah?”

“Maybe it’d be nice if we hung out somewhere that wasn’t my room all the time,” you said, a hopeful look in your eyes. “If you want.”

Peter had never noticed it before, but the two of you really did spend most of your time together in your room. It really was a nice room, but it made sense that you’d want to get out of it every once and a while.

“I’d like that. What did you have in mind?” Play it cool, Parker, he told himself. You can freak out with Ned later.

“How about ice cream on Friday?” you suggested, which came as a bit of a surprise to him.

“In the middle of winter?” As far as Peter could remember, you were always cold.

“Yeah. I really love ice cream,” you added, smiling up at him.

“Okay, then. Ice cream it is,” he agreed. There was absolutely no way he could ever say no to you when you looked at him like that.

----------------

“May! No, it’s not a date. She’s just a friend. Yeah, I got it. Open the door, pay for her, don’t be an idiot!” Peter sighed into his phone, hoping his aunt’s unwarranted crash course on first dates would be over soon. “Yes, I’m wearing the green sweater. Thanks, love you. Bye!”

“I have no idea who told her I had a date tonight,” he groaned, slumping down onto the couch next to his best friend.

“I texted her,” Ned replied nonchalantly, not even looking away from whatever video game he was playing. “Knew you’d need some kind of pointers. Y/N is way out of your league.”

“Hey!” Was he right? Yes. Did Peter need to be reminded of it right before his not-a-date date with you? Definitely not.

“Come on, you know I’m right. It’s Liz Allan all over again. I have no idea how you keep pulling all of these pretty girls, but hey, credit where credit is due.”

“You’re so mean.”

“I keep it real and you love it. Good luck, man.”

“Bye,” Peter grumbled, slipping on his coat and walking out of their room. Four flights of stairs later, he was at your door.

“Hi!” you squeaked, wrapping your arms around him. This was the first time the two of you had ever hugged and Peter was not going to forget about it anytime soon. “Come in. I have a surprise for you!”

“Here,” you continued, holding out a blue and white beanie for him. “I made it for you. To match all those blue sweaters you wear all the time.” Except this time, he was wearing a forest green one, which brought out the slight hazel tinge in his eyes.

“You made this for me?” he asked, eyeing the different stitches you had used and fiddling with the pom-pom on top. It looked store-bought.

“Well, yeah, silly. I just said that,” you replied, hoping that he liked it. With all the time you didn’t sleep, you were knitting anyway, but this was a special present for him. “Try it on.”

“I didn’t get you anything,” he sighed, pulling the hat onto his head. He looked really cute, the ends of his wavy hair peeking out from underneath the brim.

“Don’t worry about it,” you said, pulling him out of your room and towards the front of the dorm building. “Getting to hang out with you is good enough for me.”

“Where’d you learn how to knit?” Peter questioned, walking alongside you on the snow-lined sidewalks. With how cold it was, and considering he didn’t have a hood on his coat, it seemed like perfect timing that you had given him a hat.

“My grandma taught me,” you shared, taking in the twinkling of the streetlamps and how they bounced against the snow. In New York, that was practically the closest you could get to stargazing. “My, uh, grandparents actually raised me.”

“Oh. I was raised by my aunt and uncle,” Peter confided. It made you feel not so alone to find out that he didn’t grow up with his parents either, even though you knew firsthand just how hard it was.

“Do they live around here?” you asked, stealing glances at him and how rosy his cheeks were in the cold air.

“Yeah, my aunt lives in Queens,” he told you, staring at his feet to both avoid eye contact and make sure neither of you accidentally slipped. Not that he wouldn’t catch you, but he wanted to be safe. “My uncle actually passed away a couple of years ago.”

You stopped walking, immediately feeling a sense of regret. “I’m sorry, Peter. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s okay, Y/N. There was no way for you to have known that,” Peter reassured you, his warm breath coming out in clouds, and he reached for your hand to run his thumb across your knuckles. He gently pulled you along, keeping you from dying of embarrassment in the middle of campus.

“What about you? Are you from around here?” he asked, hoping to break the silence and make you feel a little bit better.

“No, I just moved up here for college. I grew up in Texas but moved to North Carolina when I was 13, so I finished school down there,” you explained, Peter suddenly noticing a slight Southern twang to your voice. “I just really wanted to go to school in a big city and not next to a farm for once in my life.”

“That makes sense,” he laughed, wondering what it would be like to live somewhere else. “I’ve only ever lived in New York City.”

“Do you like it here?”

“I love it. Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, to be honest.”

“Me either,” you sighed, squeezing his hand tighter as the two of you enjoyed your walk in the snow.

It seemed like forever before you reached the ice cream shop, but you didn’t mind. That just gave you and Peter more time to get to know each other better. Turns out you both competed in academic decathlons, although you were more of a math person and he preferred science.

“Okay, you’re wrong. Night at the Museum 2 is so much better than the first one. I mean that kiss between Ben Stiller and Amy Adams? The Jonas Brothers as little cherub angels? Name one thing from the original that tops that,” you ranted in between spoonfuls of peppermint ice cream.

“I just really like when the little cowboy and gladiator are driving that toy car around,” he reasoned, subtly admitting defeat.

“Don’t even get me started on why the second Shrek movie—”

You were interrupted by the sound of Peter’s phone ringing, and you immediately recognized his ringtone as the Coconut Mall theme from Mario Kart. He peered down at his phone screen, sighing and mouthing an apology to you as he accepted the call.

“Uh, hey, Mr. Stark. Did you need something?” Well, at least you knew he wasn’t lying about his internship at Stark Industries. “Toronto? Tonight? I’m kind of busy.”

There was a long pause as Peter mentally kicked himself for talking back to Tony, resulting in an earful about how being an Avenger should always be at the top of his priorities.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I’ll be right over… but I need a favor. Could you send Happy to pick my friend up? Yeah, it’s the ice cream shop on 1st. Thank you so much, Mr. Stark. Bye.” He frowned at you, and you could tell from what you had heard that he had to go.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. It’s just, something came up last minute and Mr. Stark really needs me to go on this business trip with him,” he apologized, pulling his coat on. “But, uh, he’s sending a car for you. So don’t worry about walking back alone, alright? I’m so sorry. I’ll make it up to you when I get back, okay? Bye!”

“Oh, okay. Bye!” you managed to call out before he was running out the doors and down the street. Lots of customers were staring as you awkwardly gathered your things and went to go wait on the sidewalk.

A few minutes later, a shiny black car had pulled up to the curb in front of you, a man rolling down the window.

“Miss Y/N? I’m Happy Hogan. Mr. Stark sent me to drive you home,” he called from the driver’s seat, before getting out to open your door for you. You stepped in, a little starstruck at how nice the car was. You had never been in anything this expensive before.

The two of you were sitting in silence until you finally got the courage to speak up.

“Mr. Hogan,” you started, causing him to turn down the smooth jazz that had been playing on the radio. “Do you know why Peter has to go to Toronto?”

“Yes,” he replied, glancing at you in the rearview mirror. “But I can’t tell you that.”

“Oh, okay,” you accepted, shifting to look out the window at all of the places in the city that you hadn’t yet gotten the chance to explore.

Eventually, he was dropping you off in front of your dorm, and you were trudging inside to your room to sulk about how your not-a-date date with Peter had gotten interrupted. You stared at your ceiling all night, wondering when the next time you’d see each other would be, and whether or not he’d come back with the same cuts and bruises as when you had first met.

----------------

Peter had been gone for six days and counting, and you were starting to worry that he might never come back. You had already started missing him the night he left, and now it was just some agonizing waiting game for him to return.

You must have spent hours in the basement kitchen before deciding to visit the fourth floor where Peter lived. You knocked on the door and was quickly met with Ned’s shocked expression.

“Uh, hi, Y/N. Peter’s not here right now. Did you need something?”

“I know,” you acknowledged, holding up the plate in your hand. “It’s just, well, I’ve been baking a lot and I didn’t really know who to give all of these cookies to, so I was wondering if you wanted any.”

“Oh, in that case, sign me up!” You watched as his face lit up as he noticed the assortment of chocolate chip, sugar, and snickerdoodle cookies all still warm from the oven. He offered his hands out to take the plate from you, which you happily relinquished.

“These are really good,” he complimented, his mouth full of a sugar cookie. “Can I keep the rest of them?”

“Yeah, of course,” you answered, doing your best to smile despite how much you wished it had been Peter opening the door. “I’ll see you around, Ned.”

“Hey, Y/N,” he called out to you, making you turn around on the stairwell. “Don’t worry. I’m sure Peter’s going to be back any day now.” You nodded, offering him a wave and walking back down to your room.

Turns out Ned had been right. The strange noises outside of your window were masked by how loud you were jamming out to We Didn’t Start the Fire by Billy Joel, jumping around and listing off the lyrics that had never made much sense to you. Peter knocked louder on the glass, startling you as you quickly switched off the music to investigate.

“Holy shit,” you whispered, squinting your eyes to make sure you weren’t hallucinating. “Spider-Man? Is that really you?”

You fumbled to push up your window, extremely confused as to why one of the Avengers was outside your bedroom this late at night.

“It’s me, Y/N,” he explained, his voice suddenly becoming extremely familiar. Your eyes widened as you realized who was behind the mask.

“Oh my god! PETER?” you screamed as he slipped through the window, pulling off his mask and clapping a hand over your mouth.

“Don’t freak out. It’s okay. It’s just me, okay?” he stammered in an attempt to get you to calm down before an RA heard. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I really wanted to tell you, but we were in public when I left, and I couldn’t risk it. And I didn’t want to text it or do it over the phone because it’s kind of a big deal, so I figured I’d just come to see you as soon as I got back and Mr. Stark said that you have to promise—”

“It’s okay, Peter,” you interrupted, wrapping your arms around him and burying your face into the very weird material of his spider-suit. “I won’t tell anybody.”

He softened under your touch, resting his head on top of yours. “I like your dance moves,” he whispered, making you glare up at him, your face suddenly very red.

“How long were you watching?” you groaned, dramatically throwing yourself onto your bean bag, your face covered by your hands.

“Only for about a minute,” he answered, pulling your hands down so you could see him grinning at you. “I especially liked how you used your hairbrush as a microphone. Plus, I thought we agreed to stop being embarrassed around each other?”

“Well, that was before I knew you were freaking Spider-Man!”

“Okay, fair enough,” he agreed, nudging you to scoot over and make room for him.

“So, that’s what that whole Toronto thing was?” you asked as he sat next to you, your knee touching his.

“Yep. There was this thing about aliens and these guys that could shapeshift. It’s a lot to explain.”

“Are you going to keep that thing on all night?” you asked, gesturing at his outfit, which was very tight and very distracting from whatever alien story he had to tell.

“Oh. Yeah, I guess so,” he shrugged. “I don’t have anything on underneath it.”

“How scandalous,” you teased. “Not so family-friendly after all, huh, Spidey?”

“Oh, shut up,” he quipped, rolling his eyes as you let out a long yawn.

“Have you been sleeping much?” he continued, suddenly remembering the issue that had brought the two of you together in the first place.

“Of course not. I’ve been too busy worrying about my classes and, oh, just some idiot I know that abandoned me in the middle of an ice cream shop. Pretty sure he said he’d make that up to me, by the way.”

“Okay, okay. Message received. What would you like?” Please say a kiss. Please say a kiss. Please say a—

“Can I meet them? The Avengers, I mean. It’s not like anyone else really has a secret identity except for you.”

“Oh. I mean, I’d have to ask Mr. Stark and the rest of the team and see if they’re cool with it, but I’ll see what I can do.”

“Awesome! You’re the best,” you chimed, wrapping your arms around him and planting a kiss on his cheek.

It was then that Peter decided he would just never be able to wash that side of his face again, his heart nearly skipping a beat.

“Peter,” you said, breaking the silence he had left the two of you in. “I’m tired.”

“Me too,” he sighed. “I should head up to my room. Gotta make sure Ned knows I’m still alive.”

“Yeah, of course,” you agreed, standing up to see him out. “Aren’t you worried somebody will see you, though?”

“Y/N, it’s 4 a.m. I’m pretty sure that you and I are the only people on campus that are awake right now.”

“Oh, right. Still, be careful, okay?” you told him, slightly worried at his secret identity being found out by some college kid that just couldn’t stay off Twitter.

“Will do,” he said, smiling and giving you a little salute before leaving.

----------------

A few days later, before you could even greet him, Peter was already walking into your room. It was 10 p.m., a little earlier than when he usually came over, but by now you were used to him showing up at your door unannounced.

He was already wearing his pajamas, a t-shirt with a science pun and some flannel pants that he had invested in to avoid any more awkward moments between the two of you. You were dressed in leggings and a sweatshirt, the clothes you usually threw on after class just in case you fell asleep on accident. There had been more times where you had woken up sweaty with your jeans stuck to your legs than you were willing to admit.

“Okay, so I asked Mr. Stark about your request and he told me he doesn’t think now is a good time, but…” he grinned, holding out a giant cardboard box with some kind of minimalist home appliance on the front for you to look at.

“Am I supposed to know what that is?” you blinked back, trying to figure out what the hell you were staring at, considering that all of the text written on it was in a language you didn’t know how to read.

“It’s some fancy white noise machine from Japan. If I remember correctly, Mr. Stark said he made Pepper order it because I wouldn’t shut up about you, and it would be in everybody’s best interest if you got some sleep, so I could stop annoying him and the rest of the team.”

“Oh. That’s pretty thoughtful, I guess,” you said, gathering things off your floor to make space for it.

He set the box down on your rug and got to work opening it. Meanwhile, you were busy translating what exactly Tony Stark had so generously gifted to you.

“Peter, wait. This thing is like $300. Doesn’t he know that you can just look up whale noises on YouTube for free?”

“Yeah, but this one adjusts its volume based on the noises around it, has a light that simulates the sun rising, and has an alarm noise that’s supposed to support healthy cortisol levels.”

Peter peered up to see your arms crossed and brows furrowed, it suddenly becoming clear to him that the things he had just listed meant very little to you.

“Plus, he’s a literal billionaire, so I don’t think it was that big of a loss for him,” he added.

“Fine. Let’s just hope this thing works,” you sighed, watching as Peter leafed through the instruction manual before tossing it behind him. “It’s a little early to go to sleep, though.”

“Y/N, plenty of people go to sleep at 10. Not everybody is nocturnal like you.”

“I guess you have a point,” you agreed, kneeling down beside him as he fiddled with all the settings.

“I know,” he said with a smirk as you rested your chin on his shoulder to get a better look at what he was doing. “What time do you want to wake up? 7 a.m. would give us time to go get breakfast before class, but we could do 8 if you wanted to sleep in.”

“We?” you mused, liking the sound of that. “I guess that means you’re staying here tonight?”

“Well, yeah. I’m not letting you have all these overpriced rainforest noises to yourself.”

“Do 7. We can go get those blueberry muffins that you like,” you decided, standing up to get Peter’s makeshift bed on your bean bag ready. “Do you actually like sleeping on this thing, or were you just trying to be polite the first time I asked?”

“Dude, that thing is awesome. It’s like I’m on this little cuddly cloud, and then you add all those warm blankets and the twinkly lights and it’s the perfect recipe for me to fall asleep.”

“Wow,” you nodded, looking around your room to see all of the things that Peter was talking about. “I wish it worked that way for me.”

“Maybe it will, tonight.”

It didn’t. You were tossing and turning for nearly an hour to the agonizing sounds of birds cawing and the occasional monkey chatter, all set against the backdrop of a heavy thunderstorm. To be honest, it was something that would’ve given you nightmares when you were little.

“Y/N?” Peter whispered from the floor. “Are you sleeping?”

“No.”

“Me neither.”

“Could you turn that thing off? It’s really distracting me.”

“Yeah, of course,” he said, leaning over to switch the noise machine off. “Can I ask you something?”

“You can ask me anything.”

He hesitated, not really sure if he should ask the question that he had been thinking about for a while now. “How old were you when your parents died?”

You had to think for a moment, not really sure about the answer. For as long as you could remember, you just lived with your grandparents. “Um, well my mom left when I was a baby. And I think my dad passed away when I was four.”

“Oh,” Peter mumbled. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have a parent leave you, but he didn’t want to pry just in case it was a sensitive topic. “Are your grandparents from your mom or dad’s side?”

You rolled over to rest your head on the edge of your bed so that you could see him better. He looked so cute bundled up in all of your blankets, his hair already a bit messy. “They’re my mom’s parents. It’s weird. I see a lot of pictures of her from when she was growing up, and I look so much like her, but she’s basically a stranger to me.”

Peter opened his mouth to say something else, but there was a long pause and he decided not to.

“What about you? How old were you when your parents passed away?”

“Five or six. They met while working at the C.I.A. together, but most of my memories are from the stories my aunt and uncle told me when I was growing up.”

For a moment, neither of you could find the right words to say to each other.

“Peter,” you spoke up, interrupting his thoughts. “I’m really glad I met you.”

“I’m really glad I met you too.”

----------------

Peter’s next plan of action involved even more advice from his fellow Avengers, and you were not looking forward to trying out any of their suggestions.

“Okay, so, Steve—I mean Captain America—said that when he was little, you know, in the 1940s, all he had to do was drink a glass of warm milk before bed.”

“I’m lactose intolerant,” you groaned, crossing your arms.

“I just saw you eat an entire pint of Ben and Jerry’s in one sitting the other day.”

“Regular milk has almost 15 times more lactose than ice cream. You’d think a science nerd like you would know that.”

“I’m a geek,” he scoffed, clearly a little bit offended. “Not a nerd.”

“Yeah, I can see that now. It’s okay, though. At least you’re pretty,” you said, pinching his cheek.

“Just try it,” he grumbled, handing you the warm glass and waiting impatiently for you to take a sip. If anything, the milk did a better job at keeping you up that night than putting you to sleep. Not even thirty minutes after you had gone to bed, you were feeling sick to your stomach.

“I hate milk,” you gagged, Peter holding your hair back as you kneeled over the toilet bowl. “My grandpa could never get me to drink it as a kid.”

“Is that why you’re so short?” he laughed, helping you up. You glared at him as you moved to the sink to wash the acidic taste out of your mouth.

“Shut up, Parker,” you quipped, tired and grumpy from how terrible you felt. “Let’s just go back to sleep.”

“Alright, munchkin,” he smiled, pulling you out of the bathroom and back towards your bed.

Somehow, the warm milk wasn’t even the worst of Peter’s ideas, because a few days later, he was standing at your door with a bottle of some Asgardian sleep aid from the lightning god himself.

“Are you sure this is safe for me to drink?” you asked, your eyes widening as you stared at the silvery liquid that was almost shimmering.

“Uh, I’m about 87% confident you’ll live,” he said, “But I’m 100% sure that it’ll work.”

“Gee, thanks. Now I really want to drink this weird alien potion,” you sighed, looking at him nervously.

“Just drink a little bit and see if you feel anything,” Peter encouraged, leaning over your shoulder. You nodded, hesitantly bringing the drink up to your lips to take a sip.

“This stuff tastes amazing,” you mused, taking a bigger gulp this time. “Like a blue raspberry slushie.”

“Whoa, that’s enough,” he warned, taking the bottle from your hands before you could drink any more of it. “We don’t want you to go into a coma.”

“I don’t feel anything,” you shrugged, frowning back at him. “Maybe I should—”

You stopped mid-sentence to let out a loud yawn, the potion starting to take effect. Peter caught you as you slumped down in your chair, helping you into bed.

“Okay. I definitely feel it now,” you admitted, already half asleep. Peter tucked you under your blankets, placing a kiss on your forehead as your eyes fluttered shut.

“Sweet dreams, Y/N,” he whispered, turning off your lights and softly closing the door behind him.

For a moment, Peter had thought he had finally found a solution to your insomnia. At least before you slept through class the next morning. And then the day after that. But it wasn’t until the third day that he really started to freak out.

“Where’s Thor!?” he panted, having run all the way from his class over to the Avengers Tower. Wanda and Vision stared back at him from the kitchen, very confused at what he was so panicked about.

“He’s in his room,” Bucky called from the couch, his mouth full of popcorn as 13 Going on 30 played on the big screen. “What’s going on, kid?”

“No time to explain. Gotta go!” Peter called, sprinting up the stairs towards Thor’s room. He knocked frantically until the door finally swung open.

“Greetings, young Spiderling. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Thor smiled, his long, golden hair shiny as ever.

“I think I killed my almost-girlfriend!” Peter blurted out, practically sweating from how stressed out he was. “She drank that stuff you gave me and she hasn’t woken up in three days now!”

Thor chuckled, patting Peter on the head. “Do not worry, my brother. I’m sure she will wake up given time. It was a very potent drink, after all. Calm yourself.”

“Okay,” he sighed, relieved to know that he hadn’t poisoned you to death. “Cool. Cool, cool, cool. She’s fine. Everything’s fine. Thanks, man. I’ll, uh, I’ll see you around.”

“Farewell, Peter. May we meet again soon,” he grinned before closing the door in Peter’s face.

On the way back down the stairs, Peter figured he’d give you a call and see if you were still sleeping.

“Hello?” you groaned, your throat dry from just waking up. “Peter, what the hell happened to me?”

“THANK GOD YOU’RE ALIVE!” Peter yelled into the phone, making you recoil from the volume of his excitement. “You’ve been asleep for three days, Y/N. I thought you were dead.”

“I am very much alive,” you laughed, slowly feeling the potion wearing off. “Where are you?”

“Uh. I may have run all the way to Midtown to ask Thor if I had killed you,” he admitted, feeling you roll your eyes through the screen. “I was worried, okay?”

“Now you know how I feel whenever you leave for a mission,” you countered, glad that Peter couldn’t see how much you were blushing. “Hurry up and get your butt back over here. I have the weirdest dream to tell you about.”

----------------

Even if you still weren’t getting a full eight hours of rest at night, it was obvious that all of Peter’s efforts had vastly improved your sleep schedule. Over the past few months, you had gone from staring at your ceiling all night to actually being able to stay asleep for small periods of time.

“Your eyelashes are so long,” you mused, playing with Peter’s hair. He was sitting in between your legs and How the Grinch Stole Christmas was playing on your TV.

“Really?” He tilted his head back to look at you, batting his eyelashes and making you giggle.

“Yes. It’s not fair that boys get all of the pretty eyelashes,” you pouted, watching as the Grinch explained his plan to steal all of Whoville’s presents to his dog.

“I think yours are pretty,” he replied, a soft smile on his face. “But there’s a rogue one just hanging out on your face right now.”

“Can you get it?” you asked, your eyes still glued on the TV screen. Peter nodded, twisting around to gently brush the eyelash from your cheek.

“Do you want to make a wish?” he laughed, holding the little eyelash on the tip of his finger in front of you.

“Okay,” you agreed, squeezing your eyes shut and blowing it away. When you opened them, Peter’s face was only inches away from yours.

“What did you wish for?” His gaze shifted downwards to look at your lips for a split second, before returning to look into your eyes.

“I can’t tell you, dummy. Then it won’t come true.” You weren’t about to tell your best friend that you wished for him to kiss you. At least not now, while the two of you were stuck in this really weird “not dating, but more than just friends” limbo.

“Fine,” he frowned, crossing his arms and pouting in a way that you recognized had been mimicked after you.

“Don’t make fun of me,” you said, mirroring his stance. Your puppy dog eyes were definitely a lot more convincing than his.

“I’m not.”

“Uh-huh, sure. You smell really good, by the way. Well, your hoodie does. I could just wrap myself up in it and fall asleep.”

“How come you’ve never mentioned that before? You could’ve been out cold every night months ago!”

“Guess I was just too distracted by your dreamy face,” you teased, causing Peter to blush.

“Whatever. Seriously, though. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know. I think it took me a while to realize how sleepy I got whenever you were really close to me,” you shrugged. “You’re not mad at me, right?”

“Of course not. But if I had known sooner I would’ve just given you one,” he said, slipping the hoodie over his head and handing it to you. “Here, put it on. You better fall asleep instantly or I’m calling bullshit.”

“You caught me, Peter. This was all some elaborate plan for me to steal one of your hoodies.”

“Just put it on. The suspense is killing me.”

You rolled your eyes and pulled his hoodie on. Just from looking at Peter and how slim he was, you never would have guessed that it would be this oversized on you.

“How do I look?” you asked, striking silly poses in front of him. Peter involuntarily licked his lips and he knew he’d be replaying this image of you in his head for the next few weeks.

“You’re going to have to keep that,” he stammered, doing his best to hide how much he really liked seeing you in his clothes. “It looks a lot better on you. I, um, have to go do my homework. And call my aunt. And walk my roommate.”

Peter stumbled to his feet, staring at his wristwatch to maintain his act that he was late for something before grabbing his things and heading out the door, making sure to hold his backpack in front of him. “Let me know if the hoodie thing works. Bye!”

----------------

Brushing off Peter’s strangely abrupt departure from last night, you nuzzled into your pillow, the warm morning light spilling through your curtains. Last night had probably been your best sleep in months, and you even got to wake up late since it was Saturday. Things probably couldn’t have gone any better.

Before you knew it, you were running up to Peter’s room and banging on his door. He opened the door on your fourth knock, right after Ned had chucked a pillow at him, and you were met with his sleepy eyes and messy hair.

“It worked!” you yelped in excitement, twirling around and still wearing his hoodie. “Well, kind of. I fell asleep after about an hour, and then I slept for maybe three after that. But I had to pee in the middle of the night, and when I got back into bed I couldn’t fall back asleep until 6 a.m.”

“That’s some good progress,” he yawned, stepping out into the hallway to keep your little celebration from bothering Ned too much. “If only we could get you to sleep the entire night.”

“I know right. But I’m so happy!” you cheered, wrapping your arms around him. “We finally did something right!”

“We need to celebrate!” you continued, grabbing Peter’s hand and dragging him down the stairs. “Come on. We’re making you a chocolate cake!”

You stopped by your room on the way to the kitchen, piling a bunch of ingredients into Peter’s arms from your mini-fridge and various shelves.

“Okay, eggs, flour, butter, sugar, chocolate. Damn it. We’re all out of milk.” You side-eyed him, remembering the whole Captain America induced fiasco from a couple weeks ago.

“I think we might have some in our room,” Peter laughed. “Ned drinks a lot of milk mixed with Milo powder. It’s some obsession he picked up when his family took a vacation to Australia. I’ll go get it.”

He set all of the ingredients you had given him on your desk and sprinted back up the stairs to raid Ned’s stash, already thinking of ways to apologize for it later.

A few minutes later he was knocking on your door, out of breath, and dressed to brave the many inches of snow that had fallen overnight.

“We didn’t have any milk,” he panted. “But I can run to the dining hall and get a few cartons.”

“I’ll go with you.” You quickly pulled on your snow boots and layered your puffer coat on top of Peter’s hoodie, wrapping a hand-knit scarf around your neck just to be safe. “All ready.”

Getting the milk was the easy part. Making sure you didn’t die of frostbite was another story. By the time you and Peter got back to your room, your nose was super red and you couldn’t feel your toes.

“Okay,” you said, your teeth chattering. “I thought I was used to the snow by now, but that was something else.” You dropped your coat on the ground and climbed into your bed, burying yourself under your comforter.

“I thought we were making a cake,” he laughed, walking over to see you peeking out of the pile.

“Cake will have to wait,” you whined, your voice slightly muffled by the blanket. “Come here. I need some of your body heat.”

“Okay,” he stuttered, kicking off his sneakers and climbing in beside you. He had sat on your bed a lot since the two of you met, but this was the first time that he was actually laying in it. You snuggled up to him, and he hesitantly wrapped his arms around you.

“This is nice,” you sighed, nuzzling your head into his chest. “Is this one of your superpowers? Spidey-warmth?” Peter let out a soft laugh. It was silly but true. Ever since the bite, he never really noticed how cold it was outside anymore.

“Y/N,” he whispered, tightening his grip around your waist. Your head was nestled underneath his chin, and he could smell the faint citrus scent of your shampoo. “I need to tell you something.”

“What is it, Pete?” you yawned, your eyelids heavy from how comfy Peter’s cuddles were.

“I love you.” He held his breath, nervously waiting for you to respond.

“I know,” you giggled, intertwining your legs. “Sometimes, you talk in your sleep. You’ve probably professed your love for me at least eight times by now.”

“Oh.” Peter had no idea how he was supposed to respond to that.

“Don’t worry. I love you, too,” you assured him, grinning and placing little kisses on his jawline. “I thought that was obvious.”

“Maybe you could make it a little more obvious,” he mumbled, his heartbeat getting quicker as you shifted up to kiss him on the lips, your hand running through his hair.

“I will,” you smiled, your forehead resting against his. “But after we take a nap, okay?”

“Okay,” Peter agreed, snuggling as close as he possibly could to you, never wanting to let go. In no time at all, he watched happily as you fell asleep in his arms, wondering how the two of you hadn’t thought of this sooner.

----------------

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littlemisslipbalm · 4 years ago

Text

“Okay, lover boy”

For @bfharry boyfriendathon!!! A trip to Paris with your loving boyfriend Harry!

this gif bc sweetie! but also bc this is the coat he’s wearing :)

We’ve got fluff, (a little) angst, and smut for y’all and music always. I love Paris, was actually there this time last year so I was feeling nostalgic! Also Harry in Europe is always A+++ Hope y’all enjoy and feedback is ALWAYS appreciateddd

Word Count: 5.2k | Warnings: some self-doubt, oral!male receiving, mentions of sex, language?

Summer in Paris. The most romantic place in the world with the loveliest weather. Except, the weather wasn’t exactly lovely. But it was quite romantic and that’s what you decided to focus on. Harry and you had flown off to get away from the world by living in the South of France for the Summer. First, you had begged Harry to spend a good three days in Paris before heading to the countryside. He had obviously agreed. Today was your second day.

“Love, wake up,” Harry cooed softly in your ear.

You stirred in the plush bed and slowly sat up in the mess of sheets. You rubbed at your eyes and when you blinked them open you saw Harry standing before you. He was already dressed in striped trousers and a striped shirt under a sweater vest and seemed to have run out to bring you coffee in bed. He crossed to perch on the bed and leaned forward to kiss your cheek. Your body leaned in to receive the sweet peck of his soft lips.

“Good morning, love, y’look ravishing” he sighed sweetly as he pulled back from your face. You rolled your eyes and scratched at your disheveled hair.

Moving your head in a circle around your neck, you laughed breathily at all of his sweet words, “I look a mess, but thanks, H.”

“You don’t,” he protested, sliding his hands around your shoulders and moving to lay on top of you on the bed.

You giggled and wriggled in the sheets as he began to pepper kisses along your face, neck and collarbones. “You’re absolutely stunning. Like always.”

The pair of you rolled around in the bed, exchanging kisses and caressing each other tenderly. Then you heard the rain and sat up.

“Har...is it still raining?”

He sighed and sat up with you, pushing his mused curls out of his face with one hand while his other was wrapped around your waist. “Sadly, yes. But we can still go out and explore. I know how excited you were to finally be back in Paris...”

Your head turned to rest in the crook of his neck, sighing softly, “It’s alright. I love the rain, can’t get me down.”

“Yeah, we can just take umbrellas and have fun with it.”

“No, no umbrellas. Want to run from awning to awning. Get stuck in the rain and be drenched. With you.”

Your lips had curved up into a smile as you spoke. Resting your head on Harry’s warm body, you imagined the day that the two of you were about to set off on. It wouldn’t be perfect and that would be okay. It was going to be what the two of you make of it therefore you wanted to make it magical. You sat up to meet Harry’s eyes as he cradled you in his arms. His face held a soft expression, one filled with love as he looked down at the woman he had grown to love more than anything. It wasn’t fleeting, it was constant. He loved you.

“Alright, let’s get goin’ then,” he laughed and shifted along the bed, sitting you up more. The hint of teasing in his voice was exciting and made you want to listen to him.

You pushed out of his arms and bounced up, your shirt sliding to cover the top bits of your thighs. “Alright!”

“Okay, maybe one umbrella would have been a good idea!” Laughing in disbelief, you duck beneath the awning of the cafe across the street from your hotel.

“It’s really coming down...but you said,” Harry grins down at you and swipes at a strand of your hair that was already drenched from the rain. You swat at his chest, his yellow knit sweater vest dry as he removes his large blue coat. “Hush.”

The cafe plays a love song in French and you hum along softly as you seat yourselves. Harry’s hand instinctively envelopes yours as your other free hands begin to leaf through the menu. His hand is warm and soft as it entangles itself with your own, which squeezes his in response to the brushing of his thumb over your skin. After placing your order, you watch the rain hitting the pavement and the light city traffic before you. Harry only has eyes for you, his gaze never leaving your figure. He takes you in, the way you’ve done your hair, the necklace you picked out - the one you always wear, the way you decided to wear no makeup since you planned on getting wet in the rain.

Bringing him out of his adoration, the waitress brings your drinks and he watches you say something sweet in french before he also says a ‘merci’. You sigh in contentment and shift in your seat after taking a sip of your espresso. Your eyes meet with Harry’s over the top of your small cup and you giggle at how extremely small the same cup looks in his hand. His dimples appear as he mirrors your expression. Then at the opening chords of the new song beginning to play, you perk up, immediately recognizing “Aline”, a clichely French song, but a favorite of yours nonetheless. You place your cup down and begin to sing along. Harry watches on, sipping his espresso and allowing you to swing your intertwined hands back and forth to the rhythm. You tip your head back and mock scream out the words, your french accent changing how your voice normally sounds.

“Is that a love song?” Harry asks at the finish of the song. He never bothered to learn French, despite having a couple of girlfriends who had been able to speak it.

You wet your lips, dried from singing, and shake your head slightly. “No, not really. It’s about heartbreak... Aline - the girl - is gone, I guess, and he’s drawn an image of her in the sand. But rain washes that away as well and now he’s twice as sad”

“That could still be considered a love song. He still loves her, right?”

“I guess.”

“Why do you like it so much?”

You hum, pondering the question, never thinking about what made her like the song so much to consider it a favorite. Harry stares intently, he loved talking to you about music. It was two of his favorite things put together.

“You won’t take ‘I just like shouting Aline’ will you?” Harry shakes his head, and you continue, “I guess I like it because it’s so tragic...and a little pathetic. Like, that sounds harsh, but this guy, he’s so in love with someone who’s already gone that he cries over her image washing away. He says he’s aching he’s so distraught and it’s just, it’s so relatable.” Harry stares at you, eyes soft, knowing you have more to say. Sitting so that your back is straight, you work to put your thoughts into words. “He’s calling out her name ‘Aline’ in hopes she will return to him and it’s just like you never want to feel that way in your entire life. But there are times that you do and you’re the pathetic guy crying over sand and watching it wash away into the ocean.”

“I will never make you feel like that, love,” Harry shifts your hands and brings them onto the table, leaning closer, a somewhat pleading look in his eyes.

“You never would on purpose, I know that. But that feeling it’s human insecurity, that’s the little fears I keep tucked away in the back of my mind, it’s how I’d feel if I ever lost you.”

“You’re never going to lose me,” he leans fully forward to bring his lips to yours. His lips easily brushed over yours, connecting perfectly as they always did. Your hand rescinds from his grasp and you place it on his chest, pushing him back slightly, “I know. Now enough with the mushy. Sights to be seen, clothes to be soaked!”

Laughing together, Harry settles the bill as you gather your things. You help Harry put his heavy coat back on after he finishes with the money, your lips pecking his as you fix the lapel. His lips curve into a smile against yours and his eyelashes flutter in excitement, never getting tired of the feeling of you.

You had finally arrived at the grass in front of the Eiffel Tower, where you had been meandering through the city to all day. Before you had arrived Harry and you had stopped in a chocolatier, a perfumerie, and another cafe - pair of you appreciated good coffee. Harry had begged to stop at a boulangerie to pick up bread, but you had insisted that you could stop at one on the way back to the hotel later, otherwise the bread would get all soggy. Eventually, Harry had agreed even though his argument was that he would eat it before it got soggy.

Running around with a canvas tote on your shoulder filled with the goodies you two had picked up was exciting and you spun around on the grass, your head tilted to the rain and your arms and bag flying out around you. Harry grabbed your waist and then slipped a hand up to cradle your wet hair. His hand carded through the tendrils and you tilted your face to look at him. His own wet chestnut hair flopped onto his forehead as he smiled down at you. You threw your arms up to hang on his shoulders. It was only you two out in the rain and you laughed as you watched a single droplet run the length of Harry’s nose. Craning your neck, you kissed the tip of his nose before it could fall.

“I love you,” Harry says only for you, completely unprompted.

“I love you, Harry,” you respond, lovingly.

“No, Y/N, I love you,” He repeats. Your wrists drop as your arms retract and your hands rest on his strong shoulders. You lean back slightly, confused. “I love you, I love you, I love you!” He starts to shout and picks you up by the waist, spinning you around in circles, slightly off the ground now.

“Harry!” You squeal, incredulous at his behavior. You loved it, but he wasn’t usually like this in public. Hand holding and short hugs, usually. Small pecks, at most. Shouting declarations of love, never - until now.

“Ok! I get it, lover boy,” You roll your eyes as he sets you down, placing kisses all over your rain soaked face. You tuck your head into your chest, feeling heat rise to your cheeks from his words and actions despite the cooling effect of the rain.

He smiles and leads the pair of you towards the Eiffel Tower. Halfway there he stops and snaps a few photos of you grinning, drenched in front of the site. Then you make him pose as well. He smiles for a few and then pretends to lean against it, which makes you roll your eyes again while you move to the perfect spot to make it look realistic.

You begin to move to head towards the tower again, but his hand snakes around your wrist, stopping you from moving. The rain was at a soft patter now, but you still were getting tired of being in it. Your brows raised expectantly at your boyfriend who was smiling adorably at you.

“Selfie.” He said simply.

“Harry...”

“C’mon. It’s romantic. Not like there’s anyone around to take it for us.”

You shrug and fold into his chest as he slips out his phone. His other hand slips around your waist, pulling you even closer. Your head rests on the upper part of his chest as one of your hands slips underneath his coat and the other goes to rest on his sternum. Your entire body is pressed against him, as he adjusts his phone trying to get both your faces in it along with a good portion of the Eiffel Tower. You both smile at your reflections that are beginning to smudge with raindrops and you ruffle your hair trying to look slightly disheveled after a few snaps. Then, Harry groans sadly, “These aren’t working.”

“I actually have an idea,” you say excitedly as the rain slows to a complete stop, “You okay with your phone possibly getting some water damage?” Harry nods, unsure, as you pluck the phone from his hands. You stroll a few feet away from Harry and pluck two of the boxes of chocolate out of your bag. Mumbling to yourself, you set up the boxes like a makeshift stand, “Please don’t get ruined, mes bonbons.” Then you swipe to the video choice in the phone’s camera and turn it on. You place it gently against the two boxes, so that the image contains Harry and the Eiffel Tower behind him. Then you race back to Harry, your sneakers splashing the puddles as you move.

“You’re brilliant!” He wraps his arms around your shoulders and sways you back and forth. “Smile at the camera, lover,” you pull from his strong grasp and wrap a single arm beneath his coat again, fingers pulling at the warm fabric of the sweater vest beneath it. He smiles down at you before turning his focus to the phone a little ways off. He tightens his arm around your shoulder and pulls you off your feet slightly, causing one of your legs to kick out slightly. This video is going to be so weird, you think to yourself and laugh as you straighten back up. You turn your face to Harry and scrunch it up at him. He smirks back at you and then leans down to kiss your cheek.

After you mess around a bit in front of the camera, forgetting for a minute that you're recording and having a small makeout session, you run back to your set up and gather your things. Harry comes with you this time and hugs your waist from behind you. He smiles at the camera one last time before you press the red button to end the video; the last clip being his face smiling brightly while you’re laughing breathlessly at him, both sets of eyes filled with love and joy.

There’s a restaurant inside the Eiffel Tower. It’s really beautiful and classy, perfectly French. Harry decides it’s the perfect place to have dinner, despite its upscale interior and your complete dishevelment from the rain and lack of preparedness in your outfit choices. As well as, the fact that it’s really early and the French don’t eat until much later in the evening so you’re the only ones there. Harry knocks on the door still and the pair of you are seated after he tells them who he is.

You comb lightly through your wet hair and you shuffle your vans together, uncomfortably. Harry, while dressed down still manages to look effortlessly chic, his trousers and yellow sweater vest with a striped dress shirt underneath is still passable as nice, especially if you ignore his own vans. In your haste you had dressed cute, but not necessarily upscale enough to where you felt like you fit in in that moment. Your wet hair wasn’t helping to calm your nerves as the well dressed waiters moved around you, placing things at your table. Your nervous hands smoothed over the plaid skirt and frumpy brown sweater you had beneath your navy trench coat that almost mirrored Harry’s only missing the colorful bobbles.

“Hey,” Harry notices your fidgeting and reaches out across the table, motioning you to place your hand in his outstretched one. You oblige reluctantly, shifting in your seat. Money has never been a problem for Harry since the pair of you began to date which wasn’t a bad thing. You had a job that allowed you to live a comfortable lifestyle, as well, just not quite to the extreme that Harry was able to. Normally, it didn’t bother you, but right now you felt very out of place, feeling unwelcome in Harry’s life. Harry can read exactly what you’re thinking as all these negative thoughts race through your mind. The odd sense of fear that the pair of you had talked about creeping in, the thought of losing him because you couldn’t keep up with his lifestyle. Like you had told him earlier, as well, you hope to never feel that way, but sometimes it’s there. And right now was one of those sometimes.

His finger traces the familiar pattern over the back of your hand as he holds it tight. “You deserve to be here just as much as the next person. You look lovely.” He smiles at you, trying to convey just how sincere he is being. You release a breath and try to relax at his words, knowing ultimately that he was right. He always knew exactly what to say and you smiled at him and whispered a small ‘thank you.’

“If I Fell” begins to play in the restaurant and John and Paul begin to serenade the empty room. The host had placed you in the furthest back room by the windows, allowing you and Harry to stare out at the city as you enjoyed the food and leaving you completely alone except for when the waiter would come and check in. The two of you had just finished the third course and were watching the clouds shift along the skyline.

Harry sighed contentedly and leaned back against his chair, straining his neck to the side, the tendon on his neck straining, causing your eyes to flicker up and watch the way he clenched and unclenched his strong jaw. You were in awe. “How did I get so lucky?” You say suddenly, your voice wistful, eyes a moment away from misty. Harry hums, jade eyes flitting back to your face, lips curving into a curious smile. “To be loved by someone like you, by you. How’d I get so lucky?”

Harry blushes at your words, the smile growing larger, overtaking his features. “Love, if I could list all the reasons I love you...God, we’d never leave this restaurant. Let’s just say I’m the one who’s lucky.” You pouted at his words, feeling cliche but also, totally and completely in love, so much so that you didn’t care about what you looked like as you stood up and leaned over the table, crashing your lips to Harry’s. He leaned up quickly to meet your lips over the small table. One of his hands flew to your soft cheek and held you close as your lips locked, tasting sweet from the champagne the two of you had been enjoying.

“Today was perfect, H.”

You glanced up to look at Harry’s face as he held you in his arms, walking slowly down the street. He walked slightly behind you as he braced himself around you, he couldn’t get enough of you, couldn’t touch enough, feel enough, breathe enough, where he would feel satisfied.

His eyes flitted down to meet yours, the jade of them sparkling under the cloudy sky save for the moon that had pushed its light through finally. “Yeah it was.”

Reaching the hotel, the two of you scampered up to your room and threw everything down the minute you got inside. The rain had mostly dried from your clothes, but you still couldn’t wait to take them off and get into something clean and warm.

“Do you want to shower?” Harry calls to you as he unpacks your bag, separating all of the items the pair of you had bought today - including the baguette he had finally gotten on your way home. Your head appeared from beneath your sweater as you pulled it from your body, leaving you standing in your bra and skirt.

“Together?” Your voice was calm since Harry and you occasionally showered together and were capable of keeping it tame, but there was a hint of excitement too after spending the whole day constantly within each other’s grasp.

“Sure, why not? Then we can get in bed and try the chocolates we bought today sooner,” he shrugs, making his way towards you, tossing a box of chocolates on the bed for later. He licks his lips and smirks down at you. “I like the way you think...but no funny business, lover boy,” you tease and run a finger down the center of his chest, only his dress shirt covering the toned body beneath. Your eyes have a glint of mischief in them as your words come out rather jokingly. “No promises,” he breathes before placing a chaste kiss to your lips.

In the bathroom now, Harry closes the door despite the lack of need for privacy. For some reason your heart is beating extremely fast, nerves springing forward at the urgent prospect of intimacy. Your heart always beats a little faster whenever Harry and you are together like this, but right now it’s going especially fast. The love you have for him, the passion, it’s never faded. Everytime is like the first time, maybe even better than the first time if you really think about it because now he knows you and you know him. It’s not about the novelty or the exploration, it’s about the adoration and the feeling each other’s touch ignites within you. So, right now, as the pair of you undress each other before you shower together, your heart is beating so fast because this isn’t lust or fleeting passion it’s eternal intimacy and deep devotion.

His fingers softly and nimbly release the clasp of your bra and then reach around to slip the straps down. It slides down your arms and falls to the ground and Harry watches you as you now move to undo the last few buttons of his shirt. You’re pressing close to him, feeling cold and slightly vulnerable despite being safe in Harry’s presence. The movements are tender, only the sound of your breathing and the rain that started up again bringing any noise to your interaction. Your hands flit down to the buttons on his trousers, your fingers shaking only slightly from the chill. Harry’s toned arms rise up to rub your upper arms, noticing your shivering as you undo the buttons and zipper. After his zipper is undone, you move your hands down to your side, where your own zipper is located, but Harry pushes your hands away, silently telling you he could do it. Sighing, you turn from him and turn the shower on, hoping that it will warm up quickly. Harry follows and presses up against you, his large arms encircling your frame, warming you instantly. He kisses the tip of your left shoulder tenderly and then rests his chin in the dip between your shoulder and neck. He breathes you in, taking in the moment, committing it to memory. Your hands rest over his gently and you feel yourself tilting your head back and basking in his embrace.

“We should probably get in,” Harry whispers after you had been standing there for far too long, simply holding each other. “Yeah,” you respond wistfully. Stepping in, you instantly place a kiss on Harry’s neck once he’s in. He looks at you questioningly, “I thought you said-” “I couldn’t help myself, you look like an angel.” He tucks his head at your words and then looks at you with love filled eyes, “Giving me a toothache with how sweet you are to me.”

He takes the bottle of shampoo the pair of you had brought and begins to massage it into your wet hair. You close your eyes in contentment at his actions, you loved how gentle Harry was and how he always insisted on washing your hair when you showered together. As he works on the hair you take the bar of soap and begin to rub it across his prominent pectorals, the suds show up and glisten across his tan skin. You smile to yourself as you pass over the two swallows and then travel down the center of his chest and bring the soap over the butterfly. Harry lets out a breathy laugh and you mutter, “Always so ticklish…” But you don’t mind. You rub some of the soap on your hands and then rub back over the same places on his body, spreading out the suds, while Harry moves to wash his own hair. This time your hands travel further down his body, your soapy fingers massaging Harry’s bare hips, rubbing soothing circles over the tense muscles from walking all day. Harry releases a heavy sigh, your movements releasing a pressure he hadn’t realized was there.

Your hands travel inwards and dance over his two fern tattoos causing Harry to shudder again. This time you say nothing, focussed on tracing the patterns and being so close to your lover. Finally, you remove your hands from his body and rinse them of the soap, grabbing a washcloth, you finish cleaning his arms, neck, and torso. Moving slowly, you drop the washcloth and Harry’s breath hitches, knowing what you’re intending to do. Harry starts, “You don’t-” but now his voice is completely caught in his throat when you put your hands on his length.

He’s already semi-hard, and it stiffens immediately in your embrace. He has to actively think about not getting hard whenever you’re naked around him, especially when you bathe together. He thinks you’re sexy, of course, but the intimate touches you share under the water is what really does it for him. However, he knows it’s not a sexual moment usually and doesn’t want to press himself upon you. Today, though, you want to take care of him. “Hush, I want to,” you say as you pump your hand languidly, blood rushing to his tip instantly. He groans as you stare deeply into his jade eyes. You were beautiful and wonderful to him. He didn’t know how he had found you, but he was happy that he had.

Then you slip down to your knees, legs folding perfectly as you continue to stare up at Harry. His eyes widen, realizing only now that you intended to use your mouth. One hand flies to your freshly cleaned hair and the other trails down the side of your face, taking in your beautiful face that is now in front of his hard member. Slowly, you bring your tongue to lick over the now angry red tip of his dick. Harry hisses as you open your mouth fully and begin to bring him completely inside. Your eyes never leave his as you descend until he hits the back of your throat. He’s big, really big, but after all this time you know how much you can take and you sit there for a moment. You let his weight rest in your mouth, he’s warm and you enjoy holding him this close.

Harry groans, “Please,” and you begin to move, seeing the strained look on his face.

Bobbing your head, you take him in and out of your mouth with ease, sometimes taking extra care over his head sucking specifically there. Your movements make Harry moan out and grasp at your hair, keeping it from your face as you work him over. His hips buck into your mouth the faster you take him in your mouth, but he tries to remain still, wanting you to be in control. One of your hands grasps his thigh, over his tiger tattoo, while the other runs over the parts of his dick you can’t take into your mouth. Harry is always vocal, but right now he’s at a loss for words. He feels so loved and cared for in that moment, it’s quick to his release. Your hand on his thigh feels him beginning to shake a bit more and his hips are stuttering more erratically.

He whines out, “I’m close,” and you pull back until your lips are only over his head.

Your tongue flattens over the slit of it and then swirls around it. You suction your lips around his head and suck hard, your hand pumping quickly, your eyes still never leaving Harry’s face. He had closed his eyes a while ago, but opens them up slightly right at his moment of release. He bucks his hips one last time as you moan around him at the feeling of him inside your mouth. His orgasm wracks through him and you continue to suck, trying to take up every last bit.

“Oh fuck,” Harry whimpers, chest heaving and head hanging low as he stares down at you.

The water is still running in the shower over your erotic image. You swallow and pull off of him, placing a gentle kiss to his head before standing up, whispering something inaudible to just Harry’s dick. Harry takes your hands in his and kisses you hungrily as you stand up. The taste of himself still on your lips. His arms are wrapped around your waist and one of his hands cups your ass cheek needily.

Against your lips, he growls, his voice deep and accent thick, “Let me take care of you now.”

You giggle and place your hands on his wet chest. “You don’t need to. I just really wanted to make you feel good.”

“But making you feel good will make me feel good, too,” He whines, pressing you into him more.

“Oh, I know,” you laugh, “But we’re really wasting water now and I want to try the chocolates we bought. You can make me feel good in our bed, this porcelain really isn’t the most comfortable.” You’re completely enjoying Harry’s eagerness to give to you after he had just received, but you were starting to prune from the water and wanted to lie in bed with fluffy robes with him.

He huffs but nods. He kisses your lips a final time and begins to climb out of the shower. “Fine, but I know none of those chocolates can possibly taste as good as what I really want for dessert.”

“You can have your dessert soon enough...Okay, lover boy?”

Wrapped up in Harry’s warm embrace, you fall asleep under the Parisian sky. His lips ghost over your collarbones as his head is tucked into you. You sigh in contentment as his hands draw a familiar pattern over your skin on top of your hip. Your mind flits over the moments of today and settles on this one right now. Harry wrapped around you, your legs entangled, warmth surrounding you. It’s peaceful. You’re blissed out from the chocolates and love Harry made to you.

Your eyes flutter open for a moment to look at Harry. His curls and the side of his face are all you can make out in the dim lit room, the moon’s light peaking through the sheer curtains. The slope of his nose is prominent, as well as the stubble beginning to grow on his jaw and cheek. His little moles decorating his otherwise smooth skin. He nuzzles further into you and you feel his stubble rubbing slightly against you, scratching lovingly onto your skin. It feels nice as your eyes close once again beginning to drift off to sleep. But you know no dream could possibly be better than the feeling you have right now, with Harry.

💛 love y’all (also I really didn’t proofread so like I maybe contradict some shit I say bc I wrote this over weeks lmao)

#boyfriendathon #boyfriend!harry #bf!harry #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles is domestic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fan fic #harry styles x y/n #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #harry styles x you #i finally posted something #yay #i hope yall enjoy #i got heart eyes while writing this #like i wanna do this

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little-diable · 4 years ago

Text

Why do you hate me? - Rick Grimes (smut)

!Don’t copy or edit my work, without asking for my consent!

My first ever Rick imagine, enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Reader has been with Ricks group for a while, but it seems like Rick doesn’t truly like her, or does he?

Warnings: unprotected sex, spanking, choking

The light sway of her hips was about to coax a moan out of Rick, just in time he could bite down on his lips, stopping him from betraying himself, after all he had sworn, that he wouldn’t touch her. But oh, it was hard not to give into his primal instincts, to snake his arms around her, to push her against the nearest wall and press his lips against hers, but no.

No, Rick wouldn’t give in, he couldn’t lose his focus.

(Y/n) had been with him and his people for months, stumbling across them one day, giving up her life as a lone ranger, following Rick back to Alexandria. She had instantly felt at home, surrounded by people she adored, going on runs with them and slowly, but surely, falling in love with Rick Grimes.

Soon she noticed him keeping his distance, he barely spoke a word or two with her, maybe he regretted taking her in, maybe Rick just didn’t like her, a fact she had to accept. (Y/n) would lay wide awake at night, pondering over Ricks behavior, wondering where she had gone wrong.

Because of that, she had promised herself that she wouldn’t make a move on him, but oh she struggled.

Rick sighed as he felt his eyes on her, he knew that she would stare at him from afar, probably wondering why he kept his distance or just not thinking about him at all. He couldn’t interact with her much, otherwise Rick would lose all his strength, would break his rules, not something he’d be proud of. Rick had lost too many people to count, he didn’t want to add anybody to the list

“I can’t go with you, why don’t you ask (y/n)?”, Daryl patted Ricks shoulder, smirking at his friend as he bypassed him, watching a frown tug on Ricks features, eyes finding her (y/e/c) ones. “(Y/n)”, the way he spoke her name, made her heart skip a few beats, slowly walking towards him, hands placed on her holster, quirking an eyebrow, “yes?”. Ricks eyes wandered up and down her frame, clearing his throat, “I need you to go on a run with me”, he turned away from her, zipping up his jacket, walking towards the gate.

“You coming?”, his words ripped her out of her trance, picking up her speed, falling into pace with him, eyes finding his every now and then. Rick scratched his beard, combing through the forest, with (y/n) hot on his heels. “Can I ask you something?”, (y/n) came to a halt, arms akimbo, waiting for Rick to turn towards her. “Not now, we need to keep on m-”, a humorless laugh rumbled through her, she shook her head, “you hate me, don’t you? For sure you do, I just can’t figure out why”.

The words made him freeze, eyes momentarily falling shut, deeply exhaling, “I don’t hate you”. “There must be a reason for you not talking to me.”, she stepped closer, (y/n) wouldn’t give up, she wanted - needed- clarification, wondering what she had done to make him ignore her. Rick bit down on his lip, eyes flicking down to the ground, running a hand across his face, “I don’t want to lose you, I can’t risk getting close and losing you along the way (y/n)”, the sincerity in his voice made her heart swell.

(Y/n) placed a hand on his cheek, his bread scratched her palm, the feeling brought a smile onto her lips, she had always imagined how it would feel to touch his face. “You won’t lose me Rick, I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself”, Rick leaned into her touch, eyes hooked on hers, visibly gulping. He wondered, if he should finally make a move, finally attach his lips to hers, finally kiss her, he turned his whole frame into her direction, hands finding hers.

She leaned her weight onto her tippy toes, lips ghosting over his, almost, but barely, touching him, wondering if he’d give in. The moment he kissed her, butterflies were erupting in her lower belly, arms slung around his neck, pressing him closer. A small moan made it past her lips, the sound made Rick move even closer, front pushed against hers, not letting go of her just yet.

Both broke apart, heavily breathing, foreheads pressed against each other, chuckling as (y/n) kissed him once again, “come on, we should make it back”, she took a hold of his hand, tugging him into the right direction. Their minds were racing, replaying the moment over and over again, not able to stop their smiles from spreading.

As Alexandria came into view, (y/n) let go of his hand, she knew how much he valued his privacy, Rick wasn’t one to share personal experiences with the crowd, but he wasn’t having it, interlacing their fingers once again.

Wordlessly he pulled her towards his house, pushing her against the closed door, lips finding hers, moving in synch. Rick placed his hands on her behind, mumbling a “jump”, (y/n) wrapped her legs around his waist, he carried her towards his bedroom, locking the door behind him. He pressed her against the mattress, hand enclosed around her throat, cutting off her airway, “I’ve always wondered how it would feel to touch you, to bury my face between your thighs, to kiss every inch of your skin”, the words made her clench her thighs together.

Her heartbeat picked up its speed, anticipation began to take over her body, trembling limbs buried underneath Rick. He kissed down her neck, beard tickling her skin, sucking a few marks on his way down, hand tugging her shirt over her head, groaning as his eyes fell onto her naked chest. “I should have done this much sooner”, Rick sucked on her nipples, rolling the hard nubs around between his teeth, sending tingles right down to her throbbing clit.

Impatiently (y/n) unbuttoned his shirt, hands running up and down his chest, combing through his chest hair, hips grinding against his. Rick still had one hand placed on her throat, clenching and unclenching his tight grip, teasing her, giving her just a few seconds to let some air flood through her lungs. His eyes danced across her skin, his trousers were tighter than ever, length hard and throbbing, precum soaking through his boxers.

“Rick”, (y/n) breathed out his name, legs wrapping themselves around his waist, pulling him down, bulge perfectly pressed against her clothed heat, coaxing a breathless moan out of her. He unzipped her trousers, hand cupping her core, thumb moving across her throbbing clit, her eyes rolled into the back of her head, grinding herself against his hand.

He kept on teasing her, circling her clit through the fabric of her panties, obsessed with the way she arched her back, lips parted.

He pushed her trousers down her legs, rising from the bed, undoing his, stepping out of the fabric, “turn around”, he rasped out, watching a frown tug on her features. Nevertheless (y/n) flipped herself around, ass wiggling with every move of hers, she could feel his gaze burning through her skin. Rick clicked his tongue, grasping her behind, kneading her flesh, eyes focused on her soaked through panties, ready to bury himself deep inside her heat.

Without a warning he brought his hand down onto her behind, the slapping noise echoed through Ricks room, (y/n) buried her face further into his pillow, moaning into the fabric. “Please Rick”, (y/n) whimpered, she needed to feel him close, after months of waiting for it to happen, now she finally had her chance, she didn’t want to wait any longer. Rick kissed his way up her spine, shedding himself of his boxers, pulling her panties down her legs, fingers running through her slit, collecting some of her arousal.

“Relax”, he whispered, tip pressed against her opening, slowly sinking into her wetness, groaning as her walls began to swallow his length. The delicious burn, of her walls stretched around him, made (y/n) bite into the pillow, hands buried in the covers, holding onto the fabric. He pulled out of her and pounded into her heat once again, repeating the movement, exploring every inch of her, hands squeezing her hips, nails leaving some half moon shapes on her skin.

Rick threw his head back, growling as she clenched her walls around him, he moved one hand up to her hair, tugging on her roots, lifting her head off the pillow. “Shit, I’m not gonna last, if you keep on doing that”, Rick panted as she clenched her walls once again, she giggled, sound getting stuck in her throat as Rick gazed the spot that made her see stars. Her body was telling him enough, goosebumps rose on her skin, getting pushed closer to the edge.

“I’m close”, (y/n) whimpered, Rick let go of her hair, hand finding its way back to her hip, squeezing her skin, “cum for me”, he moaned, pace slowly faltering. “Oh Rick, fuck”, her walls clenched around him, she tumbled right over the edge, moaning and groaning for him as her orgasm overcame her. The feeling of her walls tightly wrapped around him gave Rick the rest, pulling out of her just in time, cum dripping down onto her behind.

He placed himself next to her, giving (y/n) enough room to place her head on his chest, arms slung around him, “don’t let go of me”, she mumbled, falling into a light slumber.

#Rick Grimes #Rick Grimes imagine #Rick Grimes smut #Rick Grimes x reader #twd #the walking dead #the walking dead imagine #twd smut #andrew lincoln

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tsuumu · 4 years ago

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beautiful stranger.

oikawa x reader

a short piece in which oikawa tooru approaches you on a idyllic evening. it’s a little awkward though, since you’re trying to die.

word count: 3.3k

tw: indirect and direct implications of suicide.

your warm hands stay gripped onto the metal rails in front of you, applying enough force to watch your knuckles turn white. you find yourself doing it over and over until your fingers numb from the continued pressure. alone, you’re mulling over mundane affairs. you’d rather not be thinking about them but find this loop all too easy to fall into.

the shadow of the railing casts over a large canal, its water sifting freely, far beneath you. it laps over itself, slithers of fish break the transparent surface as they swim. some of their scales rise to kiss the sunlight in opaque relfections.

thin layers of petals scatter the ground beneath your feet that have slipped from overhead trees and continue to flutter down freely. glowers of dying sunlight seep through the shapes of them as they fall.

in this moment, autumn is alive.

it’s really lovely right now.

you’re here, all caught up in chasing that feeling of peace. safety in an open space. you have to cope with that fact that tranquility never comes easily for you.

there’s nothing that should be leaving you as deeply unsettled as you are. you’ve learnt to largely ignore feeling so overwhelmed, though it stirs and resurfaces times you wish it wouldn’t.

what’s bugging you is that you can’t quite get a grasp on your own life.

for starters, everything lacks coherent meaning. to you, there’s something constantly missing every single day. nothing purchasable, nothing attainable through hard-work and any level of perseverance. truly, it affects you so much so that even just standing here, feet glued to the very spot that is undeniably ‘lovely’, brings you nothing but unimaginable sadness.

earlier, you brushed it away as an off day but you know that’s not true. you’ve been feeling like this all the time.

it is, therefore, not at all abnormal to wonder: can a person have such thing as an off life?

you really don’t like to think about things like this too much. once you begin to muse over deep naysay you find yourself snowballing.

solutions are painfully unobtainable and it’s generally as productive as chasing pavements.

do i really enjoy being alone? or am i obsessed with the sensation loneliness brings?

“you know, if you stare long enough, you might end up wanting to jump in.”

at once, your vision snaps up, taken aback by the additional voice. you hadn’t realised that during your mindless lamenting, another person had quietly joined you by the evening canal-side.

fair skinned, dark eyed, chocolate curls brushed neatly over his features and cowlicks that bob against the light gusts of wind.

a boy offers you a smile, before shifting his feet towards the empty space to your left. you can’t seem to process him, staring at the empty spot he’d been in seconds earlier.

you’re not supposed to be here right now.

“i was totally kidding by the way.” he adds. “that was really dark, sorry.”

you’re silent in return, eyes casting back onto the running stream. the water is shallow and the fall long, so jumping in would certainly prove fatal. you know all of this too well. it’d disturb the fish who are just here to live, though, it’ll only be for a moment. they won’t know any better.

you don’t really know what to say. it’s troubling that he’s here and hearing it out loud disturbs you, like a direct call out. at no point were you prepared for any kind of conversation prior.

the two of you stand there in complete silence. it’s not particularly awkward, you just don’t know why he’s approached you so easily, talking to you like he’s known you well enough to make outlandish jokes.

asking directly for his intentions seems rude, so you’ll put up with it until he leaves.

“do you always come here?” the stranger pipes up once more, though his focus doesn’t leave the water. you breathe in deeply.

“sometimes.”

“oh, i see.”

his palms lay flat and he pushes gently off of the rails, only to fall back onto them with all his weight. he does it again, repeating the process over and over at a steady pace. you stay hunched over, keeping your distance. he doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest though, clearly absorbed in his surroundings.

“it’s like a set out of a movie, this place. seems like somewhere i’d ask my girlfriend to marry me.”

your tongue rolls around in your mouth.

yes. you think. his girlfriend would most likely be thrilled-over the top-squealing if he did. that’s entirely his business.

you really don’t care to hear of other people’s romantic endeavours.

is it out of jealousy? you don’t know. maybe.

this conversation is meaningless. you wish he’d go away sooner so you could have this time to yourself.

also, jealousy is an ugly word. you hate it.

he stops his movement with a exhale of air, tilting his head back to blink up at the warm sky. the last touches daylight mingle with the oncoming darkness, creating a deep tinge of orangey-yellow.

“when’s your birthday?”

‎a petal lands on the bridge of your hand, sticking to your skin.

“do you want my social security number?” you deject.

“what? no!”

“are you sure? really, i’ll give it to you.”

“no!”

“then why are you asking for my personal information?”

‎

he falls silent for a moment, before mumbling out a small: “just wondering.”

a tinge of guilt creeps over you at his apologetic tone. you admit, your answers thus far must make you seem like a completely unapproachable asswipe. you’re not at all. you just aren’t all that sure how to make small talk with strangers when you’re trying to part with the world by dinner time.

it feels like an unexpected guest at your very lonesome party.

“it’s (insert birth month).” you fold.

he purses his lips, face contorting a little.

“i see.”

he doesn’t continue down that path after your response. the both of you return to a mutual silence, staring into the portrait scenery ahead. the stream fills the soundscape pleasantly. fallen leaves have gathered at the base of your shoes, brushing over the tip gently with the turn of the wind. you observe them quietly.

“can i ask you another question?”

he seems a tad more timid now.

he definitely thinks you’re the type to blow up and give him an earful about minding his own business, doesn’t he?

you’d never raise your voice. in general, but also because it’d break the comfort of the scenery the world has so generously given you.

“sure.”

“do you believe in soulmates?”

‎the question is a little random but not impossible to answer by any means.

“no.”

“what?”

“i said not really.”

“you said no.”

“that’s the same thing.”

“...fair enough.”

‎he exhales out, sounding a little disheartened by your curt response. perhaps to him, you were a tough nut to crack; an ambiguity for him to understand. were all people like that? you weren’t playing hard to get, in fact, you’d answered every single enquiry he has had to offer. his efforts are amusing, though.

you raise a brow at him.

“i’m sorry, was that the wrong answer?”

for a moment, he doesn’t reply, stuffing his hands into his pockets, gazing down at the head of his shoe. pivoting his ankle, he draws small circles with the tip of his foot into the ground, into the dead leaves.

“not at all.”

“your expression says otherwise.”

“um, it was just a bit bleak, i guess.”

you let your arms droop way over the railing, fingers wading through the autumn air. you’d never really taken the concepts of soulmates to heart. it was romantic bullshit put out by somebody looking for a fantasy to indulge in. out of seven billion people, there could hardly be a singular person made for you. people aren’t born for other people. if that were the case, it wouldn’t be a rose-tinted fantasy. it would be suffocating. where’s the freedom in love?

“most people always answer like you these days anyway.”

“oh, sorry.”

he looks up at you, tilting his head.

“no, don’t be.”

back to a default mute, left with nothing but the faint chitter of overhead swallows and the odd rumble of cars passing by.

“tooru.” he states, after a while.

“what?”

“tooru. my name is tooru.”

“oh, okay.”

“oikawa tooru.”

‎your fingertips have become flushed. maybe you’d pressed a little too hard on that cold surface earlier. now that all your blood has come rushing back, the tingling sensation feels foreign.

his name slips of the tongue rather easily, don’t you think?

“nice to meet you, oikawa tooru.”

“it is nice, isn’t it?”

for the first time, your gazes meet properly and you offer him a crooked smile.

“i suppose so.”

off the side of the canal, almost right under the bridge, a small cluster of ducks have gathered. adult ducks tend to be considerably larger than its offspring —as is factual with any animal— so it’s easy for you to tell that there’s only one parent there, along with three of its ducklings.

people like to come to the canal to feed the ducks bread, though you’d heard somewhere that it’s actually quite bad for them.

you wonder. do ducks care particularly if one of its ducklings die? will it do something with the body, cry out, hurt?

or is grief exceptionally human?

“i don’t actually have a girlfriend, by the way.”

he sifts out his phone, tapping the screen and sliding it open. you watch him turn it to its side, before leaning over to take a picture of the depths below. you just watch.

“oh, okay.”

he doesn’t elaborate, focused intently on his current task. your attention returns to the shape of the birds, bobbing up and down rhythmically.

there’s only so much you can say about the canal. yeah, it’s beautiful. you don’t have the right vocabulary to describe the way it makes you feel. honestly, it feels abysmal to even try. you’re convinced though, that you’re in love with the way the water moves. you’ve always appriciated it whenever you walk past, told yourself jokingly that you could die there if you had to.

funny, that.

beautiful things tend to hurt in an unbearably amplified manner.

“say, tooru?”

“yeah?”

“if i climbed over the railing right now, would you stop me?”

you’re both fixated on the paddling now. his phone is back in his pocket, elbows propped up. he hums, taking his time to think over your question.

“most likely.”

your fingers meet one another and the tingling spreads to your palms.

“i’m thinking of jumping, actually.”

“oh.”

“yeah.”

“my joke earlier...”

“yeah.”

his fingers drum rhythmically on the slender poles under the rail top.

“then i’d jump right in with you.”

the corners of his mouth tug slightly at your perplexity, supressing a chortle. he’s not laughing at you, though. it’s more a gesture of understanding. this tooru doesn’t know you at all, yet he gets it. he gets it all too well.

you get that he gets it.

tooru clears his throat. “bad day?”

“that’s an understatement.”

“well, you’re not a bad person for feeling the way you do.”

by now, the ducks have swam away, you can make out the general shape of them, melding into the distant, mute colours of the bankside. the sky look minutes away from being set alight. time has never been your friend, you see.

“i feel crazy for trying.” you’re rather blunt about it.

“fair enough.”

“…is that all?”

“well, do you want me to tell you that you’re not crazy?”

you lull into silence.

“i don’t know.”

with that, you shift to angle yourself so that he’s in your immediate peripheral, the thought of gawking at him seems ridiculous but you want to look at him. you find it hard to do it up front for some reason.

“i’m no suicide expert, but it’d probably be lonely doing something like that by yourself. wouldn’t it be comforting to know someone’s falling with you?”

your fingers run absently across the jagged surface of the rails, the old paint has been chipped away at, after all its years of protecting. in all it’s history, had anyone else hitched themselves over this very rail?

were they asking for the same answers as you?

god. that’s awful. you don’t want to think about that.

you catch each others’ eyes for a second but you resign quickly, focusing as hard as you can on the flecks of black on your thumb.

“that would be selfish of me.”

“not if i’m offering.”

you scramble to look anywhere else, abruptly turning. you’re facing away from the canal, stomach fluttering a little as you fall onto the rail’s length.

in all your time by yourself, you’d never been given an irrefutable reason to ‘be’. it’d always been a live-for-the-day type of experience. if a day is good, you’re utterly blissed out by it, totally in love with life. if it’s bad, you have little reason to go on. nothing particularly interests you enough to dedicate your days persuing it. fame seems tedious, looks are temporary, a six figure career sounds like emotional jail-time, or a slow, schedule-filled trek to death. whichever description sounds more sufferable.

you see, in essence, we all get off at the same bus stop. some journeys are simply shorter than others.

“you’re guilt-tripping me out of it.”

“i’m not!”

you’ve never stopped to ask yourself what it is you want.

death interests you, you suppose. though, you don’t see the reason to wait around and pretend to ignore it until one day it drags you kicking and screaming.

“oikawa tooru, don’t you have better things to be doing than offering to jump off bridges with strangers?”

that coy smile tugs at his lips once more. nothing you say seems to phase him. it’s like he knows you. he’s thinking: yeah, this isn’t anything out of the ordinary for them.

“should i? you look at that water like it’s someone you hate. or love. maybe both. i got curious.”

“curious?”

“yes. and quite frankly, you’ve left me curious. practically starving. you haven’t even told me your name.”

“my name doesn’t matter.”

“boo. that’s not true at all.”

his tongue pokes out, tugging at the corner of his eye. you shake your head, genuinely unable to hide your amusement, turning to him properly this time.

and really, it’s like the canal side and oikawa tooru were made from the same stardust. he blends right into the picture, as effortlessly pretty as the rest of it.

the strands of hair out of place, a little disheveled from the breeze. the scarf buried into his nose, glasses a little misty from the heat of his own breath but when they clear, you see his eyes all too well.

you’d like to tuck those strands into place, they’re bothering you just a little.

“(y/n).”

your brows furrow a little.

really, this could all very well be some sort of fantastical dream. as nice as it all is, it feels painfully unreal. boys don’t look like that on autumn evenings or offer to die with you.

that’s it.

tooru must be a figment of your imagination.

no. wrong. not a dream.

this is a corner of your mind you haven’t ventured into yet, psychologically, some kind of safety net. a sliced off piece of reality you’ve come to hide in because you’ve utterly lost your mind. he is nothing but a part of you that makes you feel at ease as you come to terms with your self-destruction.

god, that bothers you more. you are crazy.

your hand extends, reaches out all on its own.

you just want to know if he’s real.

oikawa tooru glances down for a moment, he’s probably wondering about you, what’s left you in such a state. though, he’s happy to slide his palm against yours, latching onto it. he shakes once, twice. a little more. tightens his hold a bit.

the weight of his fingers as they brush lightly against your palm is fantastical. he’s so warm. you can feel it spread through you from the pads of your fingers.

he’s very real.

tooru has rather pretty hands.

the contact makes you feel kind of delirious, a produce of being utterly touch-starved. just a simple touch. you’re embarrassed to say it but it takes everything inside of you not to start weeping or hold on frantically in case he does disappear, do something bizzare that’ll scare him away forever.

hey, tooru. are you made of honey?

“well, (y/n), i’m offering you my life right now.”

the sun has set foot on the horizon, plunging in ever so slightly. as a child, the thought of night scared you, feeling largely betrayed by the sun’s farewell. now, it’s a unique kind of comfort to see the moon. it’s as lonely as those who lay their eyes upon it.

“i don’t want it.”

his fingers slip downwards against the dips of your palm.

“you don’t?”

“no, i mean... i don’t want death. not right now..”

you don’t even want to think about it anymore. funny, how things like that work. you were so sure of it. today was the day. your dark rendezvous. weren’t you itching for it?

this bastard.

this man you’ve never met. he clasps onto your hand once and suddenly he stops your nauseating rollercoaster of thoughts and leaves you wondering if, actually, you’d like to see the canal-side again tomorrow, or in fifty years.

who are you really, oikawa tooru?

“no?”

“yeah.”

“then what do you want to do?”

“stay right here, i think.”

your fingers curl, maintaining your hold on him. you should be shy or awkward about this whole ordeal but so you’re desperate for that warmth to continue.

you both stand there, facing one another, hands extended. it’s a little robotic looking. you’re pretty stiff but very sure this is what feels right.

to you, existence is based solely on feeling your way through stages of life. that sickeningly sweet innocence of youth. childhood memories that to you, are dwindled husks of gold, valuable in some aspects but almost meaningless in others. to laugh or to cry allows an individual to create a deep-set connection to the environment around them. it is no longer passing scenery but a moment in your life you once lived through.

that’s beautiful, isn’t it?

unfortunately, emotion provides both a living fantasy and the potential for agony. life is not sweet, nor innocent. it is what you make of it.

it is what your mind is forced to make of it.

and as much as one wishes they were as coddled and loved as they were children, life beyond those years is lonely, difficult and more than you were ever capable of.

were you weak? perhaps.

but maybe people aren’t built for life. we’re all weak.

and realistically, if you are unable to clamber over one obstacle after another -established by those before you- you’re doomed to fall behind.

that will hurt. you will hurt unforgivably because self-worth is no longer a beautiful gift of internal discovery and love but another way to be measured and downsized externally. a practice that leads to hatred. a desire to die.

that’s really where it all began for you. a romantic, a poet at heart, living inside your own, kinder world. that is until reality knocked on your door, invited itself in, just to set the entire thing on fire and leave you as vulnerable as the day you were born.

you aren’t allowed to hide. it comes looking for you eventually.

your stance on life hasn’t changed, afterall, you’ve spent nights mourning over how much it can hurt to live. to fall asleep exhausted with yourself, only to wake up and do it all over again. what you do know, however, is that droning, lonely feeling isn’t there right now. that ongoing, battering ruckus inside your head has ceased. tooru, the strange magician, has left you thoughtless and a little dumb.

you like being this stupid. for once, there’s nothing intrusive prodding the inside of your head.

it’s frightfully quiet, actually. you don’t know what you’re feeling right now. how much time has passed since he’d made that awful joke?

his gaze is on your lingering contact, before lightly pulling you closer, twisting his wrist down so you’re holding hands. your gaze moves to the bankside. you feel comforted. maybe it isn’t death, maybe all you want is a hand to hold.

probably not. that is a stupid, sappy thought. you’re still fanatic about ending your life.

you were so close to doing it, without even really understanding what you were doing. the canal scenery is overpowering, numbing, if you will. without oikawa tooru, you may well have kissed those fishs’ fluorescent scales with your own two lips, as cold as ice with some unfortunate early-morning runner discovering you by twilight.

“we can do that.” he hesitates. “if i’m honest, i would have been pretty scared to jump.”

“yet you still offered?”

tooru hums merrily in confirmation.

“why?”

“because you’re cute.”

you can’t believe your own ears.

“what? seriously?”

“yeah. originally, i wanted your number but things took a small turn.”

you burst out in gutteral laughter, free hand back onto the railing for support. for a moment, you look at him, shaking your head in utter amazement.

“you’re a piece of work, tooru, you know?”

“yeah, i know.”

he smiles back at you. the shadows cast by the setting sun only make him all the more enigmatic.

now that you think about it, you can’t figure this guy out at all. it’s like staring at a wordless piece of paper and trying to find something legible.

“how do you know i won’t come back and repeat all of this tomorrow?”

tooru tilts his head ever so slightly, observing you. his eyes flutter down to your lips, speaking like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“because you told me your name.”

“what does that have to do with anything?”

“well, now that i know that, you’re no longer just a beautiful stranger.”

you understood now. he hadn’t just offered you his life, he’d offered you him. by living on, you’d accepted graciously. he knows that if you visit the canal side again, you’ll only remember this moment.

a bad moment that he, in all his glory, turned into a good one. the day you two first met.

oh, clever boy. he saved you.

though you must say, oikawa tooru, you’re very much mistaken.

you are the beautiful stranger.

a tear runs down your cheek, a little warmer than you could’ve expected.

one turns into two, slipping more and more. eventually, you’re standing over the canal, hand in hand with oikawa tooru, sobbing quietly as the water runs peacefully below the both of you.

#haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu fic #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #oikawa x reader #oikawa scenarios #oikawa fic #i love oikawa

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refinedbuffoonery · 4 years ago

Text

Looking Through A Window (3)

macriley married undercover au

masterlist.

Fun fact: the final scene of this chapter is part of my original brainstorm for this fic. The rest of the scenes I initially dreamt up won’t come until much later, so I’m thrilled to have at least one of them come early on in the story.

To Carrie and Anna, the lights of my life: I named the neighbor after you two. She’s annoying as shit and nothing like either of you, but I needed a name and decided if anyone deserves to have their name as an Easter egg, it’s the two of you.

*****

Despite the storm, Matty has the shipment of borrowed guns delivered to the Port of Houston in the middle of the night. While they eat breakfast, Mac and Riley study Matty’s excruciatingly detailed directions for navigating the port and finding their shipping crate. She certainly didn’t make it easy on them.

Riley leans back in her chair, looking around until her eyes land on Harley. “Time for you to earn your keep,” she says between mouthfuls of toast.

Supposedly, this is what Harley specializes in—sniffing out weapons. The dog should be able to confirm which shipping container the guns are stashed in without Mac or Riley having to check themselves. Theoretically.

Mac finishes his own plate of eggs and toast in a few ravenous bites. “Thanks for making breakfast.” He gets up to clear the plates and start rinsing dishes. After living with her for more than a year, Riley making breakfast is routine, but Mac still thanks her for it every day.

Living in the apartment together, they fall right back into their old habits. Mac wakes up early and goes for a run. By the time he returns, Riley is awake and making breakfast. After they eat, Mac showers while Riley goes on her own run. And so on and so forth.

While Mac was out this morning, he wove through the whole neighborhood, making sure it’s safe for Riley to go out alone. She can handle herself, but Mac has no delusions about the overall quality of men on the streets, and even though he can’t fix that, at least he can help minimize her chances of encountering creepy dudes.

Before they leave for the Port, Mac and Riley scour their car for a bug or any other surveillance equipment the organization might’ve hidden while they were inside the warehouse talking to Conrad yesterday. They find none. Thankfully.

Once again, they’re going in armed, and the weight of Mac’s gun feels just as foreign and unwelcome as it did yesterday. He tries not to fidget with it while Riley drives, but she notices his discomfort anyway. “You’ve got to relax,” she says. “All your squirming is stressing me out.”

“Sorry.” Mac stills, even though his whole body screams to put the gun somewhere else.

Anywhere else.

Once they arrive at the Port, Mac guides Riley through the maze of cranes and crates and warehouses until they find the one Matty had the guns stashed in—dark green and otherwise nondescript.

Unfortunately, there are multiple shipping containers that fit that description at the location Matty provided. As they get out of the SUV, Riley glances between the boxes nervously. “Uhh, which one is it?”

Mac doesn’t have a clue. “I guess that’s for Harley to tell us.” He looks down at the dog standing obediently beside him. “Find it.”

He releases the leash as Harley takes off like a rocket, sniffing each container and the surrounding area. She inspects more than half of them before sitting and looking back at Mac. He waits for her to bark, but she doesn’t. Whoever trained her clearly did so with stealth in mind.

“Do we open it to double check?” Riley asks.

Mac opens his mouth to say yes, but he doesn’t get a chance to answer before a muddy, dark-blue diesel truck parks beside their SUV. Conrad jumps out of the driver’s seat, accompanied by two younger men, wearing matching scowls and Carhartt jackets. He walks with that same entitled swagger, and a cheap smile spreads across his face.

“Mr. Turner!” Conrad exclaims, shaking Mac’s hand. His grip is too firm to be friendly. Stepping back, he sneers at Riley, acknowledging her just long enough to impatiently say, “Genevieve.” Mac doesn’t miss the way Conrad’s eyes drop to Riley’s chest, nor the way Riley bristles beside him, wrapping her jacket more tightly around her and crossing her arms to hold it in place. Mac clears his throat. “Sorry,” Conrad says, not sounding sorry at all, “but your wife is very attractive.”

Riley rolls her eyes so hard they nearly fall out of her head.

“Your order is this way,” Mac says, cutting off Conrad before he could make another gross statement, “Follow me.” Mac puts a hand on Conrad’s shoulder, squeezing hard as he steers the man toward the shipping container. Harley is still sitting beside it, waiting patiently, and Mac scratches her head with his free hand.

Riley whistles, a single sharp note that sends Harley running back to her side. Mac buries his relief that she’s not alone, although he’d still much rather the hulking bodyguards were closer to him than Riley.

Focus, Mac reminds himself. Riley can hold her own. Just get this over with.

Mac opens the container, revealing two nondescript wooden crates. Still sneering—at this point, Mac’s starting to think that’s the only expression Conrad is capable of—Conrad waves over his bodyguards, gesturing for them to open the crates.

For just a second, Conrad’s sneer edges toward a smile. Inside the crates lie exactly what he ordered: military-grade, semi-automatic rifles and enough ammo to kickstart the apocalypse. Mac’s gut churns. He hates this. He hates everything about this. He hates that he’s arming terrorists. He hates how these men look at Riley like dogs drooling over a steak. He hates that he can’t do anything about any of it, that he has no choice but to play along.

Mac wishes he could bury his feelings the way Riley does, locking them behind a carefully controlled mask. Instead, his linger just beneath the surface, waiting to make themselves known at the first available opportunity.

Counting backward from five, he steels himself to finish the game. Just as Conrad brushes a reverent finger down the barrel of a rifle, Mac chides, “We followed through on our end of the bargain. Did you?”

“Of course.”

One of the bodyguards pulls out his phone. In a deeper voice than Mac expects, he says, “We can wire the payment to your bank account right now.”

“Good. My wife will help you set that up.” Mac gestures to Riley, and the bodyguard walks over to her.

Conrad extends his hand, and Mac takes it, trying not to wince when his arm brushes his concealed gun. “Pleasure doing business with you, James,” Conrad says.

“I hope this is the beginning of a long and prosperous partnership.” Long and prosper? Who was he, Spock?

“Indeed. Welcome to the Patriots.” Conrad gestures for his men to start loading the guns into their truck. “Expect another order within the week.”

Mac doesn’t know how to respond to that. Thankfully he doesn’t have to, because Riley waves him over, apparently having finished her conversation with Conrad’s lackey. “I’ll leave you to it,” Mac says, then turns his back on the terrorists and rejoins Riley. On instinct, he reaches for her arm as he murmurs, “Are you okay?”

Riley tenses under his touch, but doesn’t pull away. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Good.” He said the same thing to Conrad just a minute ago. Good. But the word is light years different from before—soft and caring, not curt and vaguely challenging. Bozer pointed it out to him once, how he talks to Riley differently than he does anyone else.

Mac shakes off the thought. He can’t get distracted, no matter how much his mind only wants to think about Riley. Releasing her arm, he says, “Let’s get out of here.”

*****

Back at the apartment, Riley settles in on the couch to dig into the Patriots' bank records. By wire-transferring the money instead of paying them in cash, Conrad practically offered up the organization's entire digital footprint on a silver platter, at least to someone like Riley. She doesn't speak as she works, so Mac listens to the melody of keyboard clicks while he makes them each a grilled cheese.

Contrary to popular belief, he's not completely incompetent, although Bozer has nearly everyone convinced otherwise. Mac will never be able to cook something fancy, but he does make a mean sandwich.

He even spreads mayo on the bread, the way Bozer does, because Riley prefers it that way.

The sizzle of the sandwiches hitting the hot pan joins the keyboard clicks right as Riley announces, "I hacked into their bank records."

"What've you got?"

"From the look of it, the shell corp they used to pay us has only been around for four months. Before that, they must've either paid in cash or used personal accounts."

"That makes sense though, since the Patriots haven't been around all that long."

"That's what I thought at first, but come look." Mac does, leaning over the back of the couch so his head is right beside hers. Riley points at the screen. "The first three transactions were all big deposits, each one two weeks apart."

Frowning, Mac squints at the tiny numbers on the screen. "One hundred thousand dollars?"

"Times three deposits," Riley adds.

"Where the hell did they get that kind of money?"

"I don't know. The deposits were cash."

“Damn. Did you at least figure out who their previous arms dealer was?”

“Yeah.” Riley shifts, causing her hair to tickle Mac’s nose, and he brushes her hair to the opposite side of her neck without another thought. “Turns out their previous dealer has Mexican cartel connections, which explains why the Patriots only paid them twice. I’m guessing they found out about the cartel part and broke it off before they made a long-term deal.”

“At least they’re not complete idiots,” Mac mumbles. Tired of squinting, he leans closer to better see the screen.

Except now they’re cheek to cheek, and Mac suddenly can’t focus on the screen at all.

Riley twists to look at him, and it takes every ounce of Mac’s willpower not to glance at her lips. "Are you burning my grilled cheese?"

"No." He straightens, simultaneously disappointed and relieved by the space now between them. Mac shakes off the thought. He can’t keep getting distracted like this.

"Uh huh. Sure."

Retreating to the kitchen, Mac calls, "That was one time!"

*****

As expected, they don’t hear anything from Conrad or the Patriots the following day. Mac doesn’t know what to do with all the downtime on this op. There are plenty of books in the apartment, but he’s too restless to sit and read. He opens the fridge, more out of boredom than actual hunger.

They’re on day five of the undercover op, and it’s starting to feel an awful lot like quarantine. With nothing to do but hurry up and wait, hanging out in the apartment and doing nothing is starting to make Mac go a little stir crazy.

When Riley emerges from the bedroom wearing workout clothes, it’s clear she feels the same way. “I’m going for a run,” she announces.

“Want company?” He hopes she says yes. Anything to get out of the apartment for a while.

Riley unplugs her phone from the charger and slides it into her pocket. “No offense, but no.”

Dammit. Mac shoves down his disappointment. “None taken.” He closes the fridge. Nothing in there looks good.

“Tell you what,” she says. “After I get back we can go to the space museum, okay?”

His heart skips a beat at her offer. “Is it that obvious I’m bored?”

“Yes.” Riley gives him a pitying smile. “So do you want to go?”

Mac smiles. It feels like she just asked him out on a date. It’s not, but it feels like one anyway. Be cool. “What kind of question is that? Of course I do.”

“Okay then.” Popping in her earbuds, she walks out the door.

“Enjoy your run, muffin!” Mac calls, stealing Bozer’s go-to pet name for when he’s undercover with Riley. She reaches back inside to flip him off before slamming the door shut, and Mac chuckles. Riley really hates that nickname.

Now it’s just him, Harley, and this tiny apartment.

Resuming his search for food he’s not even hungry for, Mac opens the pantry, and Harley comes running into the kitchen. She must’ve learned the sound of the door opening since they keep the dog food in there. Harley looks up at Mac expectantly.

“Don’t look at me like that.” She whines, and her pleading expression reminds Mac of the wide-eyed look Bozer mastered as a kid while begging his parents for something. Neither are very effective. “You just had breakfast an hour ago,” he insists.

Harley glances at the open pantry, then back at him.

Mac doesn’t give in, but he does kneel to pet her instead, scratching Harley’s neck and ending up with a handful of hair. Frowning, Mac digs through every drawer in the kitchen in search of a dog brush. No luck. He checks the bedroom and bathroom, coming up empty once again. Who even organized this house? It makes no sense. His gaze lands on the laundry room door.

Ah.

Sure enough, there’s a dog brush on the shelf above the washing machine.

Leash and brush in-hand, Mac calls out, “Alright, girl. Let’s go de-floof you.”

Harley takes one look at the brush and sprints in the other direction.

Well this is going to be harder than Mac anticipated.

He ends up chasing Harley throughout the apartment, zig-zagging from one room to the next. Every time Mac gets close, Harley slips by, just out of reach. After the fourth time she sends Mac stumbling into the furniture after lunging for her and missing, he realizes what she’s doing.

Harley is playing him. This is a game to her. And, so far, she’s winning.

Mac stares the dog down, and she seems to narrow her eyes in response. “Challenge accepted,” he tells her.

This time, he knows exactly where to find what he’s looking for—peanut butter. He smears an unnecessarily large glob into Harley’s dog bowl, making sure she sees exactly what he’s doing. Harley’s stubborn, and does a good job of appearing not to care, but Mac has a hard time believing any dog would turn down peanut butter.

Harley, it turns out, is no exception.

She follows him to the door, and Mac rewards her with a few licks of peanut butter while he clips on the leash, careful not to let her eat so much that there’s not enough to last while brushing her. Despite Harley’s obvious enjoyment of the peanut butter, Mac is no fool. She let him win this round, no doubt about it.

He leads Harley down the stairs to the small lawn in front of the apartment building, where it wouldn’t matter if he left dog hair everywhere. The brush pulls away thick chunks of her undercoat with each pass, and it doesn’t take long for the lawn to look like something died there.

The peanut butter, unfortunately, doesn’t last nearly as long as Mac hopes.

Mac figures out pretty quickly that Harley does not like her tail being brushed; she turns away and tucks her tail and generally makes it impossible for Mac to reach it. He sits back on his heels, formulating a new strategy. “If I don’t brush your tail,” he says, “you’re going to look like a squirrel, and neither of us wants that.”

Harley’s ears prick at the word squirrel.

Mac tries again, and this time Harley lets him…sort of. It’s not perfect, but at least she won’t be leaving hair all over the apartment anymore—hair that he needs to vacuum, because Riley asked him to last night and he’d completely forgotten until now. Tucking the brush into his back pocket, Mac scratches Harley’s ears the way he learned she likes, and when she leans into his touch, Mac’s heart swells.

“Good girl.” He kisses her head, and Harley licks his chin in return. “See? We’re not so bad.” Mac sighs. “I know we’re not who you wanted, but we’re going to take good care of you.”

Riley made the same promise in the war room. Even if she doesn’t stay with them after the op, Mac will make sure Harley ends up with people who will love her for the rest of her life.

“I promise,” he murmurs into her fur, kissing her head again.

Mac startles when a feminine voice calls, “You could make a whole other dog from all that hair.” A middle-aged woman stands in the walkway, oversized blue purse on her shoulder and car keys in hand. She smiles at Mac. “I haven’t seen you before. Did you just move in?”

“Yeah,” Mac says, standing up. “My wife and I moved in this week.”

“Well, welcome. My name is Carrie Ann, and my husband and I live in apartment 317. Feel free to stop by anytime. I think you’ll like living here, though I must warn you that it gets pretty loud during football season.”

Mac nods. “Nice to meet you. I’m James.” He expects Carrie Ann to keep walking—presumably to her car—but she doesn’t, and Mac suddenly gets the feeling this conversation is about to be much longer than he wants.

“And who is this cutie?” she asks, directing her attention to the dog.

“This is Harley.”

Carrie Ann sounds like a squeaker toy, greeting Harley in a voice so high-pitched it’s almost inhuman and petting her without bothering to ask for permission. Harley eyes the woman warily but surprisingly sits still. “I love dogs,” she says at a mercifully normal decibel. “Sadly my husband is allergic.”

“That is unfortunate.” Mac shifts from foot to foot, eager to escape the small talk. He’s never really had the patience for it.

Carrie Ann, it seems, is completely oblivious to his discomfort. She prattles on, asking asinine questions about what he does for work, if he’s been to the coffee place down the street, and when she can meet his wife.

Mac doesn’t know if it’s a blessing or a curse when Riley appears in his peripheral vision, as if on cue. “Actually,” he says to Carrie Ann, “you can meet her right now.” Mac flashes Riley a wide, bright smile that she returns half-heartedly, chest still heaving after her run. Sweat glistens on her body, and a few wispy curls that escaped her ponytail are now plastered to her face. “This is my wife, Genevieve.”

Giving Harley a quick scratch, Riley stands beside him, close enough that Mac can feel the heat radiating off her body. Instinctively, he starts to put a hand on her back, but he quickly pulls away. She’s not wearing a shirt—only a sports bra and those stupidly tight leggings—and the intimacy of putting his hand on her bare skin is too much to handle. “Hi,” she says, completely oblivious to Mac’s internal panic.

Carrie Ann introduces herself again, and Mac is only half-listening while she and Riley chat. Riley’s so much better at small talk anyway.

He’s much too focused on how Riley grabs his shoulder to use him for balance while she stretches. She’s so casual about it, like she’s done it a million times before. His skin burns under her touch.

Mac wants to feel more of her, wants his whole body to feel like that.

Stop it, he chastises himself. Stop thinking about her like that.

He can’t.

Even after Riley lets go, the feeling lingers, and Mac can’t stop thinking about that too. She’s standing slightly in front of him now, almost as if she’s protecting him from their nosey neighbor.

“When are you having kids?” Carrie Ann coos. “An attractive couple such as yourselves would make such beautiful children.”

Shit. He and Riley never talked about that.

Before Mac can come up with an answer, Riley pulls his arms around her, a smile blooming on her face. She guides his hands to rest low on her abdomen. “We’re actually trying right now.”

Mac’s brain short-circuits.

He blushes, both at the casual intimacy of Riley wrapping herself in him and at the implications of what she just said. Pressing her body fully into Mac’s, Riley looks up at him, smiling like he’s her whole world, and Mac’s heart stops. He’s not breathing.

His whole body burns, and the feeling is so much more intense than he imagined just seconds ago.

Alight with mischief, Riley’s dark brown eyes draw him in, and suddenly Mac is picturing Riley with that exact same expression while wearing far less clothing.

Mac thinks he might die from spontaneous combustion.

You are so beautiful, he barely stops himself from saying. His blush deepens as he’s snared in the mental image of him and Riley doing said “trying.”

Their neighbor has the audacity to laugh. “Well, I’ll let you get back to it, Genevieve. Your husband looks like he’s ready for another round.”

That makes it worse. So much worse. If he doesn’t spontaneously combust, then he’ll definitely die of embarrassment. It’s not how he wants to die, but it’s better than explaining his reaction to Riley. Because she’s going to ask him about it. Mac knows this—knows this like he knows grass is green and gravity is what keeps his feet on the ground.

As soon as Carrie Ann leaves, Riley does exactly that. She extricates herself from his grasp, putting her hands on her hips and furrowing her brow the way she always does when she knows something’s up. “Are you okay?” she asks.

Mac’s voice is strained as he replies, “Yeah. I’m good.”

He is not good. He is definitely not good.

And Riley knows it.

This op feels like all Mac’s worst nightmares coming to fruition. Simultaneously.

Riley can’t know. Her knowing would ruin everything—their friendship, their work, their trust. Mac can hardly look her in the eye. How is Riley supposed to trust him when he’s secretly thinking about her like that? He’s her friend; he’s supposed to protect her from guys who want her like that, not become one of them.

But god does Mac want to be one of them. Not one of them, he corrects himself. The only one.

He’s screwed.

~ Tag List ~ Want to be added? Send me an ask.

@angelinanao

@annmariestuff

@dreambelievergeek

@emilyscotson

@erika-amber

@fandomsilovewithoutshame

@fangirlfreak08

@g3svv

@hellishrose

@holbytlanna

@i-cant-think-of-a-name-15

@justaghostmonument

@losingitovermacriley

@macrileyedits

@multi-fandomshipper101

@mylifequotesshowallofthem

@nikki-1607

@orange-cat-vet

@penny114

@redjedistarfighter

@sxrein

@tall-tanned-tattoo

@thecarrieonokay

@tom-hunter-summah

@whatsabex

#beth writes #macgyver #macriley #macgyver fanfiction #angus macgyver #riley davis #mac x riley #looking through a window au

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wooyunhwa · 4 years ago

Text

kingdom of welcome addiction | four

view pinned post for masterlist / links to the rest of the parts!

Genre: smut (with plot), this part is just suggestive, mostly plot

Pairing: demon!san x fem!reader / ???yunho x fem!reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: a bit of blood drinking, not much else in this part tbh

Synopsis: A new boy from your class steals your attention, but something about it seems too good to be true.

A/N: The plot thickens! I know most of you are here for the smut but this chapter is very important for later parts! Thank you for reading and comments are super appreciated as always! <3

The familiar alleyway. Why did you come back here? It went on endlessly, you couldn’t see the street from either side. You were running, but you weren’t sure why. Was someone chasing you?

A glimmer of crimson caught your eye from the shadow, a familiar flash of fangs sparkling in the thinly veiled moonlight. A bloodthirsty snarl painted his face. The demon from before? He stepped into the light, and his piercings glimmered in the flickering glow of the rusty street light. You swiveled to run, but the brick wall stopped your path. That wasn’t there before...

You turned to meet his eyes, hungry with bloodlust, like a lion stalking its prey. He had you cornered. His proverbial lamb.

San.

He lurched forward, his speed unmatched, pinning you up against the wall with a disturbing thud. You gasped as the wind knocked from your body. You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out, not even your breaths. His hands viced around your neck. Why was he doing this? Why? Tears poured from your eyes as he squeezed mercilessly. You couldn’t understand why. You thought he was supposed to protect you.

You heard him speak, but his words didn’t make any sense. His voice was a venomous hiss, poison dripping from his fangs as he trained his eyes over you, to the hands squeezing the life out of you. Why was he hurting you? What did you do wrong?

Your body went cold as you writhed, unable to run, unable to scream, unable to breathe. Piercing black eyes watched you as you sobbed helplessly, searching for any remnant of life left in your lungs, clawing at his hands, silently begging him to stop.

And then black.

The next thing you saw was the dizzyingly bright white of your ceiling. The sheets were drenched under you from sweat, blankets thrown everywhere from tossing and turning in your bed.

Your hand came to your neck, tracing the faint scars from San’s teeth, remembering the grip of his hands around your neck. He could have killed you, back then, if he hadn’t snapped out of it. You would be dead.

You were falling for him. But somewhere inside of you, somewhere deep in your subconscious, he terrified you.

Your next semester had been, so far, incredibly overwhelming—and it was still only the first day. You weren’t used to such a hectic schedule, usually opting to take most of your courses online, but your schedule this time was booked entirely on campus.

Your last class of the day: Advanced Human Religion. Fitting, for your current entanglement with a particular demon. Admittedly, that was the reason you took the class. Maybe it’d give you a better picture of what you were dealing with. But probably not.

You just wanted the day to be over—time felt endless in the constant drawl of class after class, boring lecture after boring lecture.

Until you saw him.

Time seemed to stop as he rounded the corner through the doorway, like a slow-motion movie scene.

He wasn’t your usual type, you were usually exclusively drawn to the “tall, dark and handsome” trope. He ticked only two of those boxes. One, he was incredibly tall. He towered over you, and most of the people in the classroom, a perfectly proportioned giant. Lean, limber, and absolutely stunning. Two, he was unbelievably handsome.

But dark? He was exactly the opposite. He was a glowing ray of light, you imagined if this was a cartoon there would be golden glitter sparkling around him as he walked. His cotton-candy blue hair was styled neatly on his head, tousled gently in a way that looked purposeful. He was effortlessly gorgeous, almost ethereal.

Part of you wanted him to take the empty seat next to you, so badly. The other part wanted him as far away as possible—not only because the butterflies fluttering in your stomach were making you too nervous to breathe, but because he was so pure he could probably detect the sin permeating from your aura. You didn’t deserve to even be in the room with someone so sparkly and bright. You’d been fucking a bloodthirsty demon, after all. And you had the scars to prove it.

He was walking in your direction. Fuck. What do you do? Look at him, look away? Look at your phone? His eyes trained on the seat next to you. As he walked behind you, your heart stopped completely, breath frozen in your chest. Why were you so nervous? Why?

He took a gentle seat next to you as you fumbled uselessly on your phone, trying to pretend you didn’t even notice him.

Your eyes wouldn’t listen. You glanced over at him, and he met your eyes warmly. He flashed you the most heavenly smile you’d ever seen, his eyes forming into soft crescents. He looked like the embodiment of sunshine. “Hi, I’m Yunho.”

You felt yourself shrinking as the heat rose in your cheeks, unable to keep calm as you tried not to stare too obviously at him. “I-I’m Y/N,” you stuttered, shifting in your chair as you tried to stay upright.

Other than his ray-of-sunlight aura, he smelled incredible. Like warm, freshly baked bread wafting in the air on a summer day. He smelled like a nostalgia, like a distant memory you’d forgotten, but desperately wanted to remember.

You didn’t have a chance to make too much conversation with him, as your lecture was about to start any second. You had a hard time focusing for the rest of the class—it seemed like both the longest and shortest hour of your entire life. The tightness in your chest was overwhelming, heart beating ruthlessly fast in your chest. You weren’t sure if he could tell from beside you how much you were struggling to focus, but if he even saw half of the nervousness you felt, he’d probably think you were crazy.

The minute your professor dismissed the class, you practically sprang up out of your seat, too anxious to face him again, but his voice immediately stopped you, deep and smooth, from your side. “See you tomorrow.”

A blush rose to your cheeks. You didn’t even consider that you’d have to go through this again. How were you going to handle these feelings every day? You smiled kindly, concealing your nerves the best you could. “Right, see you tomorrow. It was nice meeting you.”

You beelined your way out the door, practically gasping for air as you made it out of the classroom.

You made your way to the bus stop, putting in your headphones, searching desperately for a song to calm your nerves. Your head was filled with images of him, ethereal and glowing. The first time your mind wasn’t filled with thoughts of San in a while. You didn’t exactly know what it was, but something about Yunho drew you in, had you completely flustered like you’d never experienced. Dare you say, even with San. What was it?

A shadow obstructed your vision for a moment, drawing your gaze up. And farther up. Yunho. He smiled warmly above you, his figure illuminated by light washing up behind him. You tugged out your earbud frantically as he opened his mouth to speak.

“You take the 5 too?” he asked, gesturing to your bus stop. “What a coincidence, huh?”

You thought you’d gotten off easy today. You had no idea what to say, mind fumbling for words as his smile pulled you farther and farther into nervousness. Butterflies enveloped your stomach, creeping up into your chest. You were surprised when you managed to reply semi-coherently. “Long time no see,” you jested lightly, eliciting a cute chuckle from him. “Yeah, I take the 5. I could take the 11, but the 5 comes more often.” God, what were you saying? “Anyway, I meant to ask… are you new here?”

“Yeah, I just transferred here this semester,” he explained. Makes sense why you hadn’t seen him before. You heard the screeching of the bus’ wheels coming to a halt by your side, but you were entirely focused on him. He was so tall you nearly had to tip your head ninety degrees to meet his gaze with him standing in front of you, unlike when he was sitting next to you in class. “I don’t know many people yet.”

You boarded the bus with him, and he took a seat next to you. His heavenly smell was overwhelming, you wanted to bury your head in his fuzzy sweater and never let go. It was a weird thought, but you couldn’t help but think he would give really good hugs. Like a fluffy cloud in the shape of a human. You chatted lightly, mostly about the classes you were taking, your professors. It went all too fast, and when he got off at his stop, you almost wanted to follow him. But that would be really creepy. Despite trying to avoid him before, now that you were talking, you didn’t want to stop.

You didn’t summon San that night.

You wondered if he was watching you flirt with Yunho on the bus. He told you he’d stop watching you when you expressed your displeasure at him being so intrusive, but you wouldn’t call anything about San trustworthy. You almost wondered if he could read your thoughts sometimes. Would he be mad that you had such an undeniable crush on another guy? It’s not like you and San were dating, but you definitely had a relationship of some sort, however unusual it was. You recalled the bitterness in San’s voice when he mentioned you getting the handsome man’s number from the bar. You couldn’t imagine how he’d feel about you crushing on your new classmate.

The highlight of your day quickly grew from summoning San to getting to talk to Yunho for a few moments before and after class and on the bus. You had undeniable chemistry with Yunho, and he was like a walking shot of pure serotonin, a bright ray of happiness in your otherwise dull days.

You still summoned San at night every so often. He hadn’t mentioned anything about Yunho at all, not even a fleeting sarcastic comment. Maybe, just maybe, he was finally following through with his promise of not spying on you.

The nights with San were nice, but you stayed away from anything explicitly sexual for a while. Your contracts became purely professional—well, as professional as an unprofessional demon boy cleaning your bathroom for you in exchange for your virgin blood could get. It felt entirely wrong to lust after him so desperately while your mind was filled with thoughts of your new crush. You almost felt dirty when San was around, like a cheater, though you didn’t know who exactly you were cheating on. You and Yunho were mere acquaintances still, and yet being in the presence of your demon felt wrong. Sinful—and not in the good way.

You rejected San’s flirting, shying from his soft kisses, ducking away when he pinned you like prey against your wall, pulling away from him when his hands explored your waist a little too closely. You craved him entirely, but it felt so wrong. You did, however, let him feed from you still—his lust for your blood was still insatiable, and you felt cruel not even letting him get a taste—but your newest condition was that he couldn’t use your neck.

You couldn’t help but cry out when his fangs sunk into your skin, pain mixing with pleasure as San’s fangs pierced just above your hip bone. The scars were starting to compound, and with each bite, they seemed to heal less and less cleany. You definitely started to look like a vampire’s chew toy in a way you couldn’t just explain away anymore.

His tongue against your skin had you squirming—the neck felt intimate, but your hips were even more so. You imagined his tongue dancing across your skin, his hand sneaking down below the waistband of your pants, his fangs pulling your panties off with his teeth. The fantasy dissolved in your mind when he pulled up from your skin, pushing the hem of your shirt back down while he swiped his other hand over his fangs, smearing the blood with a satisfied moan.

He kept his hand on your waist as he came up, finger tracing your chin, hungry for you after a long night of contracted housework. You could tell he wanted you, more than just your blood, he wanted you. He was begging for you with his eyes, lustful and intense. You wanted him too. You wanted your lips against his, pressed up against yours passionately, the feeling of his cold metal lip ring scraping your bottom lip. You wanted his hands all over you, you wanted to hear his sweet praises in your ear.

But you also couldn’t get the image Yunho out of your head. The things you wanted him to do to you, even more so. The guilt wouldn’t let you go.

You shied away from San, breaking eye contact. “San—I—I’m tired. I just want to sleep.”

He sighed, clicking his tongue against his teeth in annoyance. Your constant rejections of him were probably suspicious, but you didn’t know how to tell him about Yunho.

“Fine. But you know, something’s off with you.” He narrowed his eyes, his scrutinizing crimson gaze making you incredibly self-conscious. Like you were under investigation.

“I’m just overloaded with school right now.” Were you really lying to him? That was a dangerous game.

“Are you lying to me? That pretty little face doesn’t hide very much, you know.” Fuck. “Whatever. I’m not obligated to stay here. Our contract is up anyway.”

“San, wait—”

But he was gone.

The empty space on your bed where he just was stung just as much as the still-fresh bite mark on your hip. You lifted your hand to meet your cheek, wet with saltwater. Why were you crying?

“Who knew a class about religion was going to have such a crazy workload?”

You shoved your notebooks into your school back as you packed up at the end of class. The only class you looked forward to in the day also happened to be the hardest one—your professor turned out to be especially harsh with his tests, and assigned so much work you could hardly keep up.

“Right? I thought this was going to be an easy one. Maybe I should have been tipped off by the ‘Advanced’ part of the class description,” you responded with a smile, eliciting one of his intoxicating laughs. You couldn’t help but smile when he smiled.

“Maybe we could study together?”

Your heart stopped in your chest, and you paused for a moment to weigh his proposal. It wasn’t a difficult decision. “That would be nice,” you said with a flirtatious smile. You hadn’t had a chance to hang out with him outside of the setting of school yet. Although it was just an invitation to study, it almost felt like he was asking you on a date. “I know a cafe we could go to. It’s open pretty late. We could go tonight if you wanted,” you added.

A night free of demon drama would be nice for once. The guilt when you looked at San was practically eating you alive. You couldn’t lie to him anymore, but you also couldn’t face him enough to tell him the truth. You would jump on any reason to avoid having to have that conversation one more day.

“I’m not doing anything now, actually. We could go right now?”

You nodded with a soft smile. “Sounds great.”

The time flew way too fast as you studied at the cafe with him. You’d gone relatively early, but you somehow managed to still be there when they started ushering the customers out at closing. You were studying, but it also felt like a date of sorts. You were being particularly flirty, and if you weren’t imagining things, he was too. He bought you a coffee, held the chair out for you as you sat down, even brushed up against you a few times while you sat next to each other.

“Is it just me or did that feel like it went by way too fast?” Yunho asked with a laugh, holding open the door for you as you stepped outside.

You were met immediately with the cold night air, coughing you to shiver a bit from the chill of the wind against your skin. Yunho’s arm came down suddenly to wrap around your shoulders, his thick fuzzy sweater warming you in the cold, though he had to lower himself down a bit to get a proper angle on your shoulders. You melted into his touch immediately, heat rising in your face. It felt… right. You never wanted to leave this moment.

“Would you like to come back to my apartment?” you asked hesitantly, not wanting to seem too forward. “To finish studying, I mean. We still have a bit left to go over.”

Studying. Funny. That’s definitely not what you wanted to do with him right now.

He squeezed his arm around you tighter. “I’d love to.”

You settled down at your apartment with him. You hadn’t had a guy in your apartment other than San in months. Actually, come to think of it, you hadn’t had anyone in your apartment other than San in that time. At least it was already sparkling clean, thanks to your demon maid.

You settled on your loveseat couch—it was all you had room for in your small apartment. Yunho nestled up next to you, scooting up next to you until his hips were touching yours. You did your best to focus on the work in front of you, but you couldn’t help but feel distracted by what his touch was doing to you. It was so minimal it was almost non-existent, but even the faintest brush of him against you had you blushing and flustered.

Yunho glanced over at you. “So, for this question, I think we need to—”

But you couldn’t let him finish. You were leaning into him before you even had a chance to ask yourself what you were doing. Your lips met his softly. He tasted like sunshine, like heaven itself. He rocked back against you, hands lacing in your hair, moaning against your lips. You pushed back into him, savoring every taste of him. Your arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders, his hands moving to—

“Sorry to interrupt your fun.”

You nearly jumped a foot in the air at the sudden voice, echoing loudly off the walls.

San. He was standing in front of the kitchen, leaning against the counter top. His eyes glared darkly in your direction.

“San, holy fuck. What are you doing?” you hissed, eyes flitting over to Yunho. He couldn’t just appear like that, he was going to get himself in massive trouble.

He ignored you entirely, his eyes almost black as he drew his gaze over to your guest. “Yunho. Surprised to see you here. What business do you have with my human, exactly?

Did he just call him by his name? How did San—

“San. Always a displeasure,” Yunho responded at your side.

What the fuck was going on here? You watched in shock as their eyes met, both seemingly as displeased as the other to see each other.

“I’m sorry, explain to me what’s going on?” you asked with wide eyes, voice rising as your confusion compounded.

San took a few threatening steps forward, like an animal protecting its territory. “Your little lover boy right here… is a former colleague of mine. Care to tell her, Yunho? Or are you just gonna lead her on, hmm?”

Yunho glanced at you, his big eyes filled with what looked like regret, then back at San vengefully. Anger didn’t look right on him. “You don’t have to do this, San.”

San flashed his fangs in a sinister snarl. “If you don’t tell her, I will.”

Yunho glanced at you for a moment, then back at San, hesitating. “San, really, you don’t have to do this,” he pleaded again, eyes wide as he glanced back at you. He shuffled closer to you, putting a hand on your leg protectively.

“I warned you,” he growled. “So you’re going around kissing humans now, hmm? Is there some sort of new angel code I missed somewhere?”

I’m sorry, did he say angel?

“You really aren’t the same San I remember,” Yunho said through his teeth, ruffling his free hand through his cotton-candy hair in annoyance. The other gripped tighter on your leg. “What did you think you’d accomplish by coming here, anyway?”

“I’m trying to find out what business you have with Y/N. She’s not even your assignment. You thought you’d just have a little fun with her, huh? Didn’t know you were the type to play with your humans.”

Yunho sighed. “I’ve been reassigned.”

“So she is your assignment now, is that it?”

“Yes.” Yunho dropped his gaze from San’s for a moment, locking it with yours for a moment. “You’ll have to forgive me,” he whispered softly.

Ugh. Why did every guy you fell for have to be not human? You knew a boy like Yunho was too good to be true, anyway. You were sensing a pattern.

“You go around kissing all your assignments then?”

A blush rose to Yunho’s cheeks, staining them a gorgeous shade of rose. Even now, he glowed ethereally, fittingly angelic for an angel. Guess that explained why he was always sparkling. And why he smelled like the actual embodiment of heaven. “Not usually, no. I got caught up in the moment. It was unprofessional.” San rolled his eyes, clicking his tongue against his teeth mockingly, but Yunho continued. “I’ve been assigned to protect her.”

“From what?” San asked, relaxing his hostile stance back a bit.

Yunho glanced at you, then back at San, uneasiness coming through in his gaze.

“From you.”

#ateez smut #san smut #yunho smut #san x reader #ateez x reader #yunho x reader #choi san smut #jeong yunho smut #hongjoong smut #wooyoung smut #choi san fic #ateez fic #ateez fanfic

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pomegranates-and-blood · 4 years ago

Text

νοσταλγία (Chapter 29)

νοσταλγία Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Word Count: 4.1k (I’m sorry)

Warnings: The usual

A/N: I know today was supposed to be a PoV update day, but I am struggling with those atm, so for now I’ll post every Saturday and Tuesday, and if I write and want to post an Ivar PoV or smth, I will do so out of schedule. I’m so sorry, but otherwise I’ll just stress myself out.

There’s a bracelet mentioned in this, I had this one in mind. Pretty, innit?

And just an fyi, (I haven’t done these in a while, damn): Falcons are symbols of Freyja, who has stories referring to how she cries tears of gold at the absence of her husband from her side. Bats are symbols of Persephone, and in my canon I’ve always portrayed her as a woman of dark skin and blind eyes. Oh, and snakes are symbols of Hades.

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @heavenly1927 @toe-vind-ek-jou @xbellaxcarolinax @pieces-by-me @angelofthorr @samsationalwilson @peachyboneless @1950schick @punkrocknpearls @ietss @itsmysticalmystery @revolution-starter

The air around you is strange, a mix of warm and cold that doesn’t quite manage to be lukewarm, each second the breeze changes from a welcoming moment in the sun to the biting winds of a coast. Even the sky looks wrong, somewhere between night and day, the sun shining brightly one moment only to turn cold and distant the next.

You can almost see the silhouette of a woman standing in the distance, and because you know you must, you walk to her.

She extends a hand, her smile vicious but her eyes warm.

For a moment, when you blink, the blind eyes disappear and pale eyes look back at you, crying tears that shine like gold. Her lips aren’t stained by the red tint of pomegranates and blood anymore, but she still smiles, a mother beckoning a child into her embrace.

It is not the face you have come to know, yet she’s still familiar, and their voices when they whisper your name sound like one.

You reach with trembling fingers, try to reach her, and for a moment you can almost feel her warmth, burning like the fire that was once all you could feel. But the moment your hand finds hers, the moment the tips of your fingers touch hers…the cackle of a falcon, the screech of a bat by your ear, and she is gone.

All you have left is the cold that seeps into your skin and the certainty they have heard you, and answered, each and every time you’ve prayed.

A murmur of your name brings your attention to the youngest son of Ragnar, forcing you to return your attention -your mind- to the here and now, to the city that starts to wake up, to the streets you are supposed to be walking.

You answer the question written in Ivar’s eyes with a smile.

“I’m fine,” You promise quietly, “I have been having trouble sleeping, that’s all.”

“Dreams?”

“Are you to trust dreams as visions?” You ask, a little life returning to your voice as you tilt your head to the side.

“You told me yourself that your Goddess’ form appears in your dreams.” Ivar argues.

It wasn’t just her.

You refuse to admit to the son of a Viking seeress that you have dreamt of Freyja. If by chance some of Aslaug’s gift remains with Ivar, you dread to hear him decipher the meaning behind the form you saw in your dreams. So, you keep that to yourself.

“But you do not believe in my Gods.” Is what you argue with instead.

He shrugs with his arm not on the crutch, “I believe in you.”

You stop in your tracks, stunned into silence. Your eyes are glued to Ivar’s back as he continues walking, and a tremulous smile starts lifting at your lips, aided by the fragile hope and foolish emotion blossoming in your chest.

Ivar turns to you when he sees you are not coming, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly at your surprised and commoved expression.

“Don’t overreact. You were never wrong about your…dealings with your Gods before.”

Shaking off the surprise and the foolish hopes and feelings that have no place here, that cling to your mind like cobwebs, you skip the space between you, offering him a smile and a nod.

“I still appreciate the trust, Ivar.” You tease, skimming bold fingers over the back of his hand, a smile on your lips.

He regards you in silence for a few moments, not walking anymore, and you see in his gaze that he ponders with himself whether to say something that’s in his mind or not.

“Let’s go eat, woman.” He finally huffs, turning his attention to the path ahead. You bite down your disappointment at him swallowing whatever his words were to be, and walk at his side.

The thralls that greet you when you enter do so with a smile, although their eyes linger on your hair for a few moments, and move cautiously about as they set the food in front of you both and take their leave.

“You keep confusing them, you know.” Ivar starts casually, already focused on his food but still demanding that you sit at his side while you eat your bread and drink your herbal tea. You have no idea how these people manage to eat so much so early in the day.

“Me?”

Sucking his fingers clean, a gesture you shouldn’t be following with your eyes the way you are, Ivar lifts his gaze to focus on you.

“You refuse to let them braid your hair unless we make a deal, you reuse that old dress every chance you have.”

“I like my hair this way.” You quip, rather obstinately.

Ivar’s eyes go to the gentle twirls and the delicate updo holding the hair away from your face, studying the style for a few moments. Finally, he shrugs in response.

You have an inkling that’s the closest you will get to receiving a compliment, so you let yourself enjoy the victory as if it were one.

“You still get cold in that dress. You keep trembling when night falls, woman, it’s annoying.” He mumbles.

“It’s…mine.” You offer as explanation, smiling down at your infusion as you watch the herbs swirl and smell the familiar scent of red clover and chickweed.

When you lift your gaze from the swirling herbs in your cup, you catch his eyes on you, but he adverts his gaze to his food once again when he speaks, “You have dresses in our room. Those are yours.”

“They are not mine, they are clothes you had people bring to me.” You insist, fingers tracing the worn Byzantine thread with care.

“You can ask them to bring you the ones you like.”

“I don’t want to take it from them, they…deserve compensation.”

“Would it be better if you bought your own, then?” He offers, and even if excitement bubbles in your chest and into your lips in a small smile, you still refrain.

“I don’t have any gold.”

“I can give you all you need.” Ivar sentences, and although for a moment your mind lingers on the meaning you think he intended behind those words, you soon find yourself with a smile on your lips and only thoughts of the peplos and chlamys you had back in your home before it burned down.

It has been so long since you have had time -or coin- to make some dresses.

“I don’t want to be in your debt.” You insist, even if you have to bite your lip to keep from smiling.

Ivar regards you silently for a few moments, resting his elbows on the table between you and challenging your eyes with his, his expression asking you why you decide to be so difficult about everything. You offer a shrug in response, wondering if he sees the hypocrisy in complaining about you being difficult to deal with.

“Think of them as…gifts, then.”

“Alright.” You murmur, your gaze holding his for once not feeling like it’s a duel, but an encounter. When it is a genuine one, however rare they are, Ivar truly has a lovely smile, you realize.

When you are done with your meal and murmur your goodbyes as you prepare to head for the apothecary home, Ivar interrupts you, sly smile on his lips and a shine in his eyes that, were he to be any other man, would make you think he is flirting.

“I like red.”

You smile in response, bending down to press a kiss against his cheek. Ivar grumbles his way away from your affection, but the shine in his eyes, the faint color in his ears, give him away.

“Come with me to the market and I’ll see what I can do.” You offer, already knowing you are triumphant.

____

“Oh, this is fun.” You laugh, dangling your feet over the chariot’s end as you watch the ground quickly move underneath them.

Ivar grunts something in response to your enthusiasm, and you can almost tell he is exaggeratedly rolling his eyes as he faces the horse and guides it through Kattegat’s roads.

You say nothing, still beyond thankful he agreed to come to the market with you, aware as you are of how…uncomfortable he is walking around the people of Kattegat. If his words the day you witnessed first-hand what happens when his eyes get that blue tint to them are anything to go by, and you know they are; it is evident he hates the reminder, for himself and especially for others, that he is disabled.

You’ll never know what life was -is- like for him, you know you couldn’t fathom the pain, the anger, the resentment. But what you can do is try to understand him, understand his rage and his hunger.

I spent most of my life crawling around in the dirt, having to look up at everyone, like I was always kneeling in front of them.

And again, the part of you that is soft and foolish wants nothing other than to give him the happiness, the certainty, the safety, the love some may say he does not deserve but you would gladly give freely. And the part of you that is cruel and angry wants to watch him conquer, triumph, wants to stand by his side and see the world that pushed him to the ground burn.

A voice that sounds so alike his whispers there’s no reason why only one of those things has to be possible.

Still, in your mind lingers the image of a younger Ivar, heartbroken and hopeless at the seemly inability to fight, to earn his right to Valhalla; and it sends a pang of pain through your heart.

You know the stubborn King would only call it pity if he were to know, so you keep your tone light when you say,

“Thank you for this, Ivar,” He only answers with a huffed ‘hmphf’, so you add with a side smile, “I hope you know I will ask for chariot rides way more often.”

“For the right price, I’ll give you anything you want.” Ivar finally answers, and you catch a glimpse of his blue eyes turning to you for a moment.

“Dare I ask what the price might be?”

You could swear you hear him chuckle, and before long the market is in your sights, bubbling and colorful, and your attention is stolen by the wares and chanting vendors.

As you walk eyeing every little trinket and odd curiosity, you cannot keep the nostalgic smile from your lips.

“When I was a child my mother and I used to walk markets just like this one. She…she had this tradition, bought a new dress or a new piece of jewelry each time my father was to return from a campaign.” You recall with a watery laugh, fingers caressing the hanging necklaces of colorful beads you walk by.

“Campaigns? Like raids?”

“Yes, she…she used to say it was so he would have some surprise to return to, and my father would joke it was her way of keeping him in Eleusis, a threat that if he left us too frequently she would spend all our coin on pretty things,” You answer softly, running your hand over a piece of cold blue cloth, “Our temple looks over the sea, and I would sit with her on the steps, waiting for my father’s ship to return. He used to say our smiles guided the navy home,” You laugh. The smile in your mother’s lips as the sea reflected in her burdened and yet loving eyes is brought forth in your mind, and you cannot keep the next words from stumbling out of your lips, “I think…I think those are the only times I remember her being…happy.

She fought so much, through her noble title and the title of wife of a Strategus, through her worship and her strong voice. And yet she perished amongst flames, her death cheered by her own countrymen.

The cold hand of fear grips your heart, and after being once so close to ending your tale the same way, for a moment you refuse to expose yourself to that bitter and barren end, no matter the cost.

You shake off the dark thoughts, and focus on the market and the life bubbling within it.

“I don’t think I ever said this, but Kattegat truly is beautiful, Ivar.” You offer after a while in silence, the sharp focus of his blue eyes setting on you at your words.

“My mother turned Kattegat into a trading hub, allowed the town to prosper through commerce. When I became King, I…wanted to honor that.”

“Did Queen Aslaug teach you of trade?” You ask curiously, your lips still smiling as your eyes rake over the stands of so many different colors, of the offered spices and cloths and pets. It all is beautiful, loud, and with pieces of everywhere in the known world scattered throughout.

It feels like the Silk Roads. It feels like the first home you knew.

Ivar huffs, a combination of amusement and maybe regret, “No, she didn’t. I did not care for it, but my older brothers learned from watching her rule,” He explains, and remains silent for a few moments, for so long that you think he’s not going to speak again, until he takes a deep breath, “Hvitserk has been the one dealing with commerce and foreign trade, and he has done…good for Kattegat.” He says finally, the praise towards his brother gruff and carrying the bite of rancor, like admitting the other man’s success irks him.

“You should tell him that.” You murmur as casually as you are able to, pretending to eye a display of metal bracelets.

Your fingers trace over the snakes on one of the intricate metalworks, and you are reminded of the altar in the forest of Eleusis: Persephone, sitting in her throne with a scythe, symbol of Demeter, held in her hand to demonstrate her pledge to her mother, and snakes, symbols of Hades, curled around her body as proof of her husband’s love.

“Do you like it?” Ivar asks, ignoring your previous words and looming over your back as he regards the delicate bracelet you hold. Not waiting for your answer, he motions for it and talks to the man behind the stall in his own language.

You place your touch back on the King’s arm, but this time is a call for attention, “Thank you, but I couldn’t, I don’t need it.”

But he shakes his head, lips pressed into a line, “I asked if you liked it, not if you needed it.”

“Must we argue about everything?” You sigh, exasperated as you watch him pay for the bracelet with curt words.

When he turns his gaze back to you, he does so with the arrogant and maddening smile you have learned to hate, “I don’t know. Shall we argue about that?”

You just huff in response, striding your way to a stall with bright linens and leaving him -and his bracelet- behind.

“Sure, make the cripple chase after you.” He growls, the bite in his voice paired with shame that even with your back turned to him you can sense, making you falter. A moment regret pangs at your stomach, but you will not apologize. Instead, you move to one somewhat empty passageway, so you can speak freely,

“I don’t like that word,” You grit out as you turn to watch him approach, “Rather, I don’t like how you use it.”

Ivar stands in front of one of the more secluded alleys, and you can sense the tension in his frame, the shame and despair, but say nothing about it.

He is quick to fire back, “Well, I don’t particularly like being a cripple, wife.”

“Oh, for the love of-…” You growl as the word rings in your head, and you pace away from Ivar for a moment, running a hand through your hair as you roll your eyes. When you turn back to the King, you face his angry and defensive gaze with your own, determined and fierce, “You are much more than your legs, you are what you made out of yourself past them, because of them,” Shaking your head but keeping your voice down and the people from hearing, you hiss, “It would have been easy for you to wallow in pity and let the world look down upon you, but you didn’t. You are dedicated, and strong, and brilliant, and…and many more things; and you chose to show them to never underestimate you, you made the choice to fight.

His eyes look into both of your own, the movement of the Greek-Fire like irises hinting at a desperation, a hesitancy, a fear, you once would never have believed Ivar would be able to show.

You reach with impulsive, careless, stupid fingers to trace the scar that has mesmerized you for so long, that runs right over his cheekbone, under his eye. He jumps at the touch, although not as violently as the last time you were this stupid, and keeps silent as his eyes, his mesmerizing eyes, jump between yours with a thousand questions written in them.

With a deep breath and refusing to move your gaze from his, even if you feel as exposed as he is, you continue,

“And it wasn’t easy, was it? It wasn’t and it is not fair. And if you use that word like…like they use it, you prove them right. And we both know they are not right about you.

With one last caress of his jaw, you lower your hand and press a vulnerable palm over his armored heart, looking up at him with determination.

Ivar regards you in silence, surprising you at his lack of defensiveness, of bite, of cruelty. But his guarded, so tightly controlled expression that it almost looks fragile makes something within you relent, something within you soften.

And your voice is just as quiet as before, but this time lacking the bite when you say, “So…stop using that word like an insult, because you turned that word into so much more. Because you are so much more,” You say, the fervor in your voice surprising you. After a beat of silence, you add in a mumble, “Like an insufferably stubborn man, among other things.”

He says nothing in response, only stubbornly offering you the bracelet with a clenched jaw. You roll your eyes, but extend your arm and allow him to put it on your wrist, trying to dispel the electrifying effects his warm touch has on your skin.

With his fingers still on your wrist, Ivar tugs and draws you closer. Surprised, your feet clumsily cross the space he demands to be crossed, and you look up into his eyes, those alluring eyes that both threaten and adore.

Ivar says nothing for a few moments, before finally moving forward, and your heart skips a beat, your breath leaves you. For a moment that lasts an eternity, you think he will be the one to give in.

But Ivar only leans close to speak by your ear, a murmur of your name. A moment, and you hear him again, quietly, barely a breath, “Thank you.”

“Don’t,” You warn, just as quietly, “I did not say those things expecting gratitude, I said them because they are true.”

Uncertain fingers trace one last hesitant caress along the skin in your wrist, right over the bracelet he gifted you with, and it is a silent agreement between you that you both return to browsing the market.

“Almost as fine as Byzantine silk, I swear on it,” The woman promises, offering you a display of soft and flowing linens. “Fit for the Gods, even.”

You laugh as you shake your head, “I am far from divine, good woman.”

“Because you lack my silk,” She insists with a toothy smile, and another light chuckle leaves your lips as you look over the different colors of the silk she offers, eyeing the varying colors and trying to decide on a good one for a formal peplos.

A rough hand grabs one of the dark red pieces before you can make your choice.

“I like this one.” Ivar says, and even if his tone makes it sound like an order, you still nod your approval and ask the vendor for the needed linens.

Later, after spending part of your day browsing the dresses and cloth offered in the market so tirelessly your feet now ache, you relax in your bed with a warm cup of milk and honey in your hands, watching as the pale sun settles over Kattegat’s horizon.

The warmth of the fire, the safety of the house around you, the rhythm of this city; none of this should feel as familiar, as comforting as it does.

Drawing your knees to your chest, hiding bare and cold feet under the furs, you set the cup down and keep your tired eyes on the horizon, even if the sun’s light is quick to blind you.

When you blink past the light, you find yourself looking into eyes as blue and as burning as Greek Fire, and a small smile pulls at your lips. He extends a hand, offers you a bracelet.

You roll your eyes, but accept Ivar’s warm touch as he places the bracelet around your wrist. Proudly keeping your place at his side, you walk with him through the street.

A woman keeps her dark eyes on you as you walk her by, and when you offer her a small smile and a nod in recognition, she offers you a smirk.

“Snakes curl at your feet. They bind you to this realm.” She says, her Greek harsh, only slightly better than Ivar’s. You swallow past the knot in your throat, and turn your gaze once again to the path ahead of you, jaw set tightly.

“Not for long.”

She laughs, darkly, hungrily, knowingly.

“You should know better than to say that, chosen of Persephone.”

You stop dead in your tracks, something off about her flawless Greek startling you. She holds your gaze, a challenge shining in her blind eyes. You blink, trying to see what changed of her face that unsettles you so, but you cannot seem to focus.

The woman lowers her face, a dark laugh echoing around you as darkness consumes the once vivid and loud streets. You turn around wildly, looking for…for…

The woman appears in front of you, face bare and blood dripping down her full lips. She extends her hand, offers you a red veil.

A gasp makes its way out of your lips as you sit up in the bed, eyes frantically searching for…her, as if she is to still be here.

You cannot shake from your mind the snippets of the dream -Vision? Message?- from your mind, and when you straighten from the fire you were occupied with, you catch sight of the clothes and linens you bought today and are startled by the amount of red you can see.

The color of a bride’s veil. The veil she offered you.

When you lift uncertain hands to run through your loose hair, you catch a glimpse of the bracelet Ivar gifted you on your wrist.

A shackle. A snake to curl at your feet and bind you.

Trying with all your might to dispel such thoughts, you return to your seat with the now cold cup of milk and honey in your hands and close your eyes tight.

Try as you may, each time you manage to shake off the images of your dream, behind closed eyes you see the countless dreams that came before it, the countless times you saw a figure that wasn’t quite mortal lurking in your dreams.

All the times before and after your return to Eleusis where you saw clearly in the distance a pair of thrones, though you knew one would remain empty for quite a while. Even after finding yourself shackled and bound in Kattegat, the dream of the snakes that slithered around you, only to then make you trip and fall, only to let Ivar move over you, promise you a kingdom against your lips.

Gods, the vision of…of the woman that cries gold, the motherly smile, the armor covering her chest. How you could blink and see blind eyes and dark skin instead, bloodied lips and still the same warm and welcoming smile. Both hands extended towards you, of which you found yourself unable to hold on to neither.

You never believed it to be a curse, to be a woman born destined to be close to the Gods.

But your eyes fill with tears, your heart grows heavy, and you cannot help but think how life could have been so much easier, how you could have been so happy, if only you had never known both of the Seer and the Oracle, of Freyja and Persephone. Of Kattegat and Attica.

And how you wish for a life where you don’t feel Fate tearing you in two.

____

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you liked this chapter!

Also, yes, I made a Phantom of the Opera reference lol

#ivar the boneless x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar the boneless #ivar #νοσταλγία masterlist

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bonjour-rainycity · 4 years ago

Text

Double Heart | Chapter Three ~ Cosima

|previous part|

Pairing: Haldir x OFC

Rating: PG

Word count: 3857

Warnings: None

**Read on Ao3 under the user “bonjour_rainycity” if you prefer!**

A/n Thanks for your response to the previous chapters! I hope you all are doing well <3

In the morning, it’s Orophin who wakes me. I accept his offer of breakfast readily, even if it’s more of the same bread and now-soggy fruit. Rumil offers me a knowing smile, promising more interesting food once we sit at Elrond’s table, and I hold on to that hope. After a hasty breakfast, I work on finishing mending the two tunics. I’m nearly done when I feel a presence behind me and turn my head.

Haldir stands, tall and intimidating as ever, peering over my shoulder.

I purse my lips, trying to hold in a laugh. His behavior is so much stranger than that of the others. “Yes?”

He narrows his eyes, scrutinizing my work, then nods once. “That will do. Thank you for your work.” He raises his voice so all can hear. “We leave in ten minutes.” He holds out a hand, and I place the shirts there, still trying to get over hearing the words ‘thank you’ from him. I honestly didn’t think he was the type.

The more you know, I guess.

Like the others, I hurry to pack my things. Because, over the limited time I’ve spent with this group, I quickly came to realize that when Haldir says ten minutes, he actually means ten minutes, and only ten minutes. I stifle a laugh. Mara would never—

A gasp tears through my throat, and I drop my bag.

Sharp tings ring through the air — the sound of metals scraping against each other. Absently, I recognize it as the sound of swords being drawn from their scabbards.

Haldir appears at my side, gripping my elbow and drawing me nearer to him. “What is it?” His voice is low, urgent, and, though he speaks to me, his eyes never pause their scan of our surroundings.

Belatedly, I realize my error. Of course they would think I saw something of concern. But the memory is taking form now, my head begins to pound and ache with the effort, and I have to work to assemble a sentence. I don’t want to lose focus, to lose the memories. “No, it’s—” I try to explain, try to communicate that we’re not in any danger—that I know of. “I only…” I bring a hand to my temple and take a deep breath, trying to gather my thoughts. “It’s not an attack, sorry for scaring you guys. It’s just, well, I’m remembering something.”

Baranor jogs over to me, sheathing his sword. Haldir is much slower to relax, and releases my arm in favor of walking the perimeter of our camp.

“Tell us about it,” Baranor encourages. “It might help you recall more.”

“It’s nothing helpful or important,” I preface apologetically, but he only waves it off.

“Any memory is a sign of recovery. Now, go on!”

“Okay.” I take a deep breath and close my eyes, trying to remember as much as possible. The initial ache in my head is fading, though it sharpens when I try to concentrate too hard on any one detail. “I was thinking of how I better hurry up and get my supplies together because Haldir is the type of person—well, you guys would say ellon, I guess—who means what he says, so I sure as hell better be ready in ten minutes. Then, out of nowhere, I remembered a friend from home—Mara. She’s…” the memory warps and dips out of sight, but I chase after it, feeling my pulse race. I want to remember. I want to know more. The memory comes back to me and I am rewarded for my efforts with more details about my friend. “She’s taller than me but shorter than you, has a pixie cut, and always wears these ridiculous blue sneakers, no matter the occasion.” I feel a pang of fondness for this important person I’ve only just remembered. Is this what missing someone is like? “But I think she came to mind because she’s always late, to the point where, if I hosted a party or something, I would have to tell her it started earlier than it did in the hope that she would show up on time. Oh, it would make—” And the progress stops. I strain my mind, trying to force it to go deeper, to learn more, to try harder, but nothing happens. All I receive in return is a splitting headache, one that makes me grimace against the pain. I can’t remember anything else about Mara, or place her in any other memories, or find the person she always angered with her tardiness.

Feeling a little defeated, I shrug.

Baranor gives me an encouraging smile, shaking his head. “You are doing well. I think, with adequate rest and time for your head to heal, and perhaps some intervention of Elrond’s, you will have your memory restored. Do not lose hope.”

I accept his reassurance, as well as his leg-up for the horse, and spend the remainder of the morning wracking my brain, searching for more memories of a friend I didn’t know I had.

{***}

By midday, the sun is bearing down on us hotter than it has before. I shed my cloak, using my newly acquired riding proficiency to keep my balance while tucking the fabric into my bag. I glance at my companions, each of whom wears a metal chest plate, a bow and quiver on his back, and various swords and knives on his belt. It makes me feel overheated just looking at them. “How are you all not miserable in that armor? I’m burning up and I’m just in a tunic and leggings!”

“Ah, dear Cosima, you are mistaken.” Rumil pulls up next to me and Baranor, shaking his head in mock sadness. “You see, we are miserable. We are absolutely baking with all the added weight we carry.”

From his spot ahead of us, Orophin snorts, a noise I’m not sure I’ve ever heard from him. “This is nothing, little brother. You weren’t part of the guard when Haldir made us run for miles during the hottest part of the day in the hottest part of the summer in full battle armor and weaponry for seven days in a row.”

“Ah, yes.” Haldir chimes in, and I can hear the hint of a smile in his voice. It softens it slightly, makes him sound less harsh. “I remember that drill. Perhaps I should bring it back. It seems the newer members of the guard aren’t as well-adjusted as those who went through such special training.”

Rumil visibly pales. “Haldir you wouldn’t.”

“Oh I most certainly would,” he shoots back, his signature haughty tone coming forth once again. But he turns his head over his shoulder, giving his youngest brother a teasing look.

I laugh, caught off guard by Haldir’s playfulness and Rumil’s woeful expression. Haldir returns facing forward and rolls his shoulder back, seeming perfectly pleased with the knowledge that he can still torment his little brother. I twist to stick my tongue out at Rumil, who responds with a glare.

“I wouldn’t laugh if I were you, Cosima.” I snap my head back in Haldir’s direction. Surely he’s not… “If you decide to return to Lothlórien with us, I am having you fitted with armor for the return journey.” He turns over his shoulder once more, fixing me with a single raised eyebrow. “And it will be well into summer by then.”

He turns away, apparently not phased by the quiet chuckles of Orophin and Baranor, nor the gleeful guffaws of Rumil.

“Rude,” I mutter under my breath, but this only makes them all laugh harder.

The sparse cloud cover shifts and the rays of the sun concentrate on the top of my head. Its warmth knots and multiples in the tangles of my hair, and I want nothing more than to have some relief from the awful heat. I grimace, wishing I had something to use to put my hair up. I steal jealous looks at my companions who call themselves elves. Their hair is just as long as mine and it doesn’t seem to bother them one bit. While mine collects frizz like it’s gold, their hair remains perfectly straight and smooth, falling over their shoulders almost languidly. My inspection of their hair reveals something I hadn’t taken much notice of before — the subtle yet intricate braids each of them wears. And though there is hair wrapped around the end of each braid, obscuring what I hope is there, something has to be holding the braids in place—right? Otherwise, they would fall and sit straight like the hair is made to.

It’s worth the ask.

I raise my voice a bit, calling out to the whole group. “Long shot, but does anyone have a hair tie? Preferably big enough for me to get around all of my hair?”

Orophin and Baranor shake their heads. Rumil makes a show of checking his wrists and the pouch attached to his belt, but comes back with only a look of apology.

Shoot.

Though he never falters in keeping his horse at a quick pace, I notice Haldir twist slightly, rummaging through one of his bags. Quick as a flash, he tosses something behind him which Rumil catches easily, though I myself can barely follow the object’s movements. Rumil grins, presenting me with a tan, thin circle of leather. He demonstrates spreading his fingers and the leather stretches.

I take the hair tie, smiling broadly. Perfect. “Thanks, Haldir!” He says nothing, only nods in acknowledgment. I fight the urge to roll my eyes. He’s back to business, then.

Rumil brings his horse closer to the one Baranor and I ride, and I notice even Orophin shooting me interested looks. I raise an eyebrow self-consciously. “What?”

Rumil scrutinizes the hair tie, then the waves that fall down my back. “What are you going to do with a tie that large?”

I squint, partially at the shift in the sun’s angle, and partially in confusion at Rumil’s question. “I’m…going to put it up in a bun?” The looks they give me have me questioning my choice. Is that wrong, somehow?

Baranor tilts his head towards me as much as he can. “A bun?”

“Yeah, I—wait.” I pause, recalling that they only way they’ve worn their hair so far is down with the small braids added in. “Do you guys leave your hair down all the time?”

“For the most part.” Rumil shrugs. “Sometimes during battle or heavy training we will tie it all back in one or a few braids, but elves traditionally let their hair grow long and leave it down.”

“Interesting,” I murmur, taking the time to really look at each of their heads. Haldir, Rumil, and Orophin’s braids have similarities, but are in no way identical, and Baranor’s are completely different. I begin to catch on. “So, do the braids mean something, then?”

“Exactly,” Rumil nods, a twinkle in his eye. “It’s up to the elf to decide what to put in their hair, but most at least indicate where they hail from and from which family. Most warriors will denote who they are with braids—healers and scholars, too. If you are courting, that’s a specific braid as well, to show other elves that you are off-limits unless the courtship is broken.”

I smile, seeing their hair in a whole new light. “I never knew they meant something. The braids are beautiful.”

Rumil tosses his hair in my direction, letting me see the interlocking twists and tucks of a complicated ladder braid. “Mine the most, right?”

I roll my eyes, shooting my cheeky companion a grin. “If you say so.”

But all this talk of hair is reminding me just how hot my own is making me, and I am endlessly grateful for the means to put it up. I grip the horse tighter with my legs, preparing to release my arms from Baranor’s stabilizing middle. “Don’t let me fall,” I whisper, nerves gathering in my stomach as I chance a look at the ground passing under the horse’s thundering hooves.

“Of course,” he nods, and I swear the horse rides smoother.

Tentatively, I unwrap my arms from the thing that steadies me, putting more hope into my legs to keep me on the horse. I take a few deep breaths, straightening my back and keeping myself as still as possible while continuing to rock with the horse. Once I feel solid, I reach my hands up, gathering my hair. I don’t remember the last time I did this, but the muscle memory is there. I pull my hair into a high ponytail, beginning to twist the long strands around each other.

The horse jolts and I suck in a breath, feeling my body jerk to the right. Rumil shoots out an arm, steading me quickly. I give him a look of relieved thanks and continue, twisting my hair with one hand and wrapping the tie with the other. From the corner of my eye, I notice Orophin slow his horse a little, falling back to ride closer to us. He alternates between watching our surroundings and shooting curious glances at my hair. With a final twist, the bun is secured, and I take a moment to pull at the top and the sides so it’s not too tight.

Smiling broadly, I drop my arms, wrapping them around Baranor once again. “Ha! I did it!”

“Great job,” Rumil grins, voice thick with sarcasm. “Soon you will be able to shoot a bow while riding at a full gallop.”

Orophin snorts at his brother’s joke, speeding up once again to return to his place near Haldir.

“Oh, be quiet,” I snark, just happy to have a little relief from the heat.

A low bird call sounds from somewhere around us, and I tilt my head upwards, looking for the source. I’ve never heard a twitter like that before. “What kind—”

“Shh,” Rumil hisses, all traces of humor gone. I turn to him in confusion, then notice the way each of them sits straighter, more tense, a hand on the weapon nearest to him. I shrink against Baranor, heart beginning to race.

Something’s wrong.

I guess I wouldn’t know for sure, but I have the sneaking suspicion that I’ve never been in a fight. And, while I have no reason to doubt these men that I’ve somehow come to trust in such a short time, how can I really know if they are as great warriors as they say? For all I know, their perception of themselves could be horribly skewed, and we’re about to be attacked and overpowered.

I feel my hands shaking.

Baranor inclines his head in my direction, catching my attention. “It’s alright. It is just one man, as far as we can tell, but Haldir will want to ascertain that we are not walking into a trap. Stay silent and do not draw attention to yourself. We are going to approach him.”

As if on some unspoken order, Haldir and Orophin draw their swords. Rumil takes the bow from his back and smoothly nocks an arrow. I try to exhale quietly, fear making my breath catch in my throat. I tighten my grip around Baranor and press my forehead against the cool metal of his chest plate. Part of me feels incredibly wimpy hiding behind him, but the part of me in charge of survival instincts says I should be doing more…like, running in the opposite direction, perhaps.

Our horses slow and I try calm my racing heart.

We come to a stop.

“Identify yourself.” Haldir’s voice is always strong, always full of authority, but this is like I’ve never heard it before. It rings with both confidence and the sharp edge of a threat. If this was my first encounter with him, I would be shaking in my boots.

Silence.

I can practically feel the tension in the air.

The stress of not knowing what’s going on, not knowing what I’m facing, adds to my fear. I exhale, gathering my courage. I’m gonna have to look. Leaving myself no time to change my mind, I stretch my head to the side, peeking around Baranor’s shoulder.

And the memories come rushing back.

“Alex,” I breathe, my body feeling hot and cold all at once.

His head snaps from Haldir’s to mine, and the color drains from his face. “Cosima!”

I swing my leg over the horse’s back and jump to the ground. I’ve never gotten off the horse without help, and the force with which I hit the earth sends shocks of pain up my body. I ignore it, pushing myself to meet Alex as he runs towards me. We collide, gripping each other in a tight hug.

“What,” I gasp, pressing my face into the crook of his neck. I burst into tears. “What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here, what about you?” He pulls back slightly, gripping my arms and looking me over. “Why are you crying, what’s wrong? Have they hurt you?” He sends an accusatory glare at the men behind me.

I follow his gaze, noticing for the first time that Orophin has dismounted and stands near my shoulder, glowering at Alex.

I hurry to set the record straight. “No. No, they’ve been nothing but kind and helpful.” I sniffle, running a sleeve over my cheek. “I don’t know why I’m crying.”

He smiles, placing a hand on my neck and pulling me back into a hug. “It’s okay. It’s just the stress.” At his words and the comforting motion of his hand running up and down my back, my tears begin to subside.

I hear the soft sound of boots connecting with dirt and turn just in time to see Haldir striding up to us, falling in line next to Orophin. Like his brother, he sets Alex with a hard, untrusting gaze. “You are traveling alone?”

Alex’s jaw tightens. “You kidnapped my friend?”

I twist out of Alex’s hold, turning so I can keep both him and my companions in view.

Haldir’s expression doesn’t change, he only raises his chin in defiance of Alex’s accusation. “We are elves, guardians of the great realm of Lothlórien, traveling upon invitation to Imladris. We found Cosima alone, like you, and offered her our aid. If, perhaps, you become more cooperative, we would be prepared to extend the same offer to you.”

Alex leans forward and Haldir raises an eyebrow, as if daring him to make a move. Orophin’s weight shifts to his back foot. I angle myself to face Alex, gripping his elbows. “It’s okay, honestly. If it weren’t for them I’d be dead by now. They can help you, too. Just answer their questions.”

Alex continues to glare, but I can see the resolve leave him. He looked peaked, and weak, and dark shadows sit under his hazel eyes. How long has he been here? Would I look like this, if the others hadn’t found me?

“Yes,” he acquiesces. “I’m traveling alone. I woke up on the riverbank three days ago and have been wandering around looking for civilization since. I don’t remember anything before that other than my name—Alexander. Now I remember Cosima too, and my nickname, I guess.”

Baranor slides off his horse, joining us with the bag I recognize as the one keeping his healing supplies. Haldir holds up a hand, stopping Baranor’s approach.

“Two humans that know each other wake up on the bank of the same river on the same day with no memory. One was strange enough, but two?” He looks between me and Alex, eyebrow raised. “Perhaps Elrond can offer insight.”

“Elrond,” Alex questions, his voice guarded once again.

I explain before Haldir and his attitude can. “He’s a friend of theirs in a city across the mountains. That’s where they’re traveling, so it’s where we’re going, too.”

Alex sets me with a look that quite obviously questions my sanity. “You agreed to follow them to another town through the mountains?”

I recoil at his tone, as well as the attack on my common sense. “Yes, I did. Because they’re nice and my only other option was waiting along the riverbank hoping another equally helpful party came along. Because if you haven’t noticed, Alex, there aren’t any cities here. It’s not like I can just walk up to someone’s house and call for help.”

He sighs, running a hand through his unkempt sandy hair. “But you could have waited. I was walking in that direction, I would have found you eventually.”

I throw my hands in the air, actually annoyed now. “There’s no way either of us could have known the other was here! I woke up the same as you did—with nothing. No context, no memories, no supplies. In light of that, I don’t think we’re in the position to be picky when help comes our way. We have to adapt, Alex, and quickly. It won’t end well for us if we don’t.”

His lip curls at my words. I try to soften my tone, knowing we are heading for an argument and that isn’t helpful to anyone right now. “You’re tired. You’ve been wandering for three days, I’m guessing without enough food or rest. Let us help you.”

Alex looks between me and the men behind me. With a start, I realize that I’ve just encountered a long-lost friend, someone quite important to me based on the onslaught of memories, and, to him, it must seem that I’m abandoning him in favor of taking the side of these newcomers. Guilt weighs uncomfortably in my stomach.

“Okay,” he sighs, shaking his head. “I’ll go along with this—for now.”

Haldir nods, already walking towards his horse. “We ride until nightfall, then we will stop for food and rest. Be prepared to ride hard. We must make up for the time we lost with all this bickering.” Aside from the usual command in his tone, there’s a note of annoyance. He is so impatient.

I give Alex one last hug, feeling bad for my treatment of him. He’s my only link to my home, the only person here I can really, truly trust. I shouldn’t be at odds with him. “We’ll figure this out. Don’t worry.” He doesn’t respond, only follows me to the horses.

Baranor bends to give me a leg up, but a voice halts us both. “Cosima, you ride with Rumil now. Baranor—keep Alexander on the back of your horse.”

Why? I glance at Haldir in confusion. He eyes me steadily, shaking his head once. I sigh, deciding to go along with it. I give Baranor a small wave of goodbye and join Rumil.

“On to bigger and better things, then?” He winks, kneeling and locking his fingers together.

“Oh, shut up,” I roll my eyes, chuckling as I step into his hands and swing my leg over the horse. He settles in front of me and takes the reins, and, before I know it, this company of five has become a company of six.

A/n Thanks for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs make me oh so happy! Let me know if you would like a tag! And if you’re having trouble being tagged, try subscribing to the story on Ao3! That will update you automatically when I post there.

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