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jarofstyles · 5 months ago

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The Favor 10

It’s been 800 years… but she’s back! The duo has arrived. I can’t wait to see what you guys think of them

The Favor masterlist

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WC- 7.8k

Warnings- aftercare, dom/sub dynamic, mention of cuckolding, theyre kinda fucked up about Danny but fuck that man, slight mention of anxiety, oral sex, mention of edging, daddy kink(very brief) domesticrry

Aftercare was one of her absolute favorite parts of being with Harry.

Sitting in the warm, silky bath water after returning home from the club, she had been babied, petted and loved on more than she ever knew in her life. Rings off of his fingers, he ran them over her body with the sweet smelling body wash as he kept her laid on his chest. Her nose nudged the crook of his neck, cheek on one of the inked numbers on his collarbones. He’d messily tied her hair up on her head, ensuring it wouldn’t get too wet. It was the little things

“What did we like, what were we not so fond of, and what surprised you?” His voice vibrated against her cheek as he inquired about her experience. The dominant had taken incredible care of her tonight, swiftly letting them leave after she recovered in his lap with sweet kisses and her focus solely on him. His clean hand had caressed her cheek and he’d tugged her panties back over her before ushering her out as soon as her legs felt strong enough. He’d put her coat on her, adjusted her hair and placed a few kisses on her cheek as they waited for the elevator with a promise of getting them a playroom the next time they came so they’d not need to rush home.

His reference to his house as ‘home’ had left her feeling more warm and fuzzy in her gut than she could care to admit.

“I liked all of it, except maybe having to leave so quick.” She’d sunken into his hold, letting him run the warm washcloth over her chest as she spoke. “I liked your idea of getting a room next time so we don’t have t’run home so fast after. But I liked all of what we did.” Her eyes looked over his hands, the bones of his knuckles and the cross inked near his thumb. Her tummy turned slightly at the idea of everyone having been able to see that same hand around her throat, squeezing it to keep her quiet. That cross tattoo against her skin. Blasphemy had never felt so good.

“Mmm. Noted. I noticed you seemed rather calm when we were at the table originally.” He pointed out the behavior. “Did you like being on your knees for me like that? What was goin’ on in that pretty little head of yours?” The tone of it restrained just how badly he wished he could crawl in her head and read every thought she had like a book. Though sometimes there was a thought that maybe he could. He did well enough with knowing what she felt through body language alone.

“Honestly?” A little laugh erupted from her swollen lips. “Not a lot. It was really nice because of it. At first it was a lot of racing thoughts but as I sat there and you kept playing with my hair they all sorta calmed. The one thing I was thinking about, though…” Now that she wasn’t looking right at his face it felt a little easier to divulge some of the things that had her a little embarrassed. “I kept thinking about if I was gonna be naughty, cause I really wanted to suck you off.” The admission lingered like the steam on the bathroom mirror. “I was debating if you’d let me, if you’d get mad at me. But I didn’t want to chance asking because…” The bravery she’d originally conjured up had faltered slightly, which he noticed.

“Because what, love?” He asked genuinely. “Y’know you can ask me for anything. M’never going to get mad at a request- you just have to be open to hearing the word no and waiting for it.” Harry had a hard time telling her no, but he wasn’t sure she knew just how far that went. As a dominant, he’d found a healthy medium with her where he could do it for the sake of knowing what she needed to get her the best results, but as Harry? She had no idea the power she wielded over his weak will.

“Well, I was nervous that if I upset you or went off script that maybe you’d like- you’d not want to bring me anymore, or be my dominant. I know that most of the submissives you’ve brought there had some idea of it and I know you’re only doing this as a favor so I don’t want to risk you decided I’m too much of a brat-” Y/N’s entire world was flipped as her body was turned over, a startled squeak leaving her as Harry manhandled her to be straddled on his lap as opposed to sitting back to front.

“Stop right there.” His voice rasped, hand coming behind her neck to hold lightly. “There is a lot wrong with what you just said.” Nerves swelled in her belly as she caught a glimpse of his face, but there wasn’t true anger in his features. Concern, maybe? “ First of all, I wouldn’t just stop playing with you because you decided you felt a little bratty. Do you know what I would have done if you’d have been a brat?” Green looked at her expectantly, watching her shrink slightly under his gaze, shaking her head in response. “I’d have punished you. Maybe taken you over my lap and gave your ass a few swats, maybe I’d make you warm my cock with your mouth, or fucked your throat without giving you my cum. I could’ve even made it so you didn’t orgasm tonight. But it’s part of playing. I would never think of you as a bad submissive because of that. You’ve already told me you wanted to test some of that out as it is.” The feeling that had settled in his chest at the idea of her feeling insecure about him not wanting her was uncomfortable to say the least. Maybe he hadn’t spelled it out clear enough, but it was time to do that now.

“And the most ridiculous part of what you said- hey, look at me. Look at me, Y/N. Oi, sweetheart… You’re not in trouble.” His voice softened as he saw her wince, not at all wanting this to turn into a real scolding. The tone had been a bit intense considering how fully he felt about it, but she couldn’t read his mind. It had been unfair of him to think she would. “There we go. Thank you.” When she returned to his gaze, he leaned forward to peck the corner of her mouth- it was something he couldn’t help. “The most ridiculous part of all of that was you saying that I’m only doing this as a favor because…” His mouth felt a little dry as he broached the subject. “That isn’t the case in the slightest. I wouldn’t have done this only as a favor, Y/N. I would have accompanied you to find someone else to help you if need be, but if I had no sort of fondness over you at first sight, no attraction, I would have denied. If we’re being honest here, it isn’t an ideal situation.” It was immediate that he could see her eyes falter, making him curse internally.

“Darling, none of that. No. M’not going where you think I am.” Squeezing the back of her neck, he tried to offer more physical comfort. “What I’m saying is going into this I had no idea what to expect, but we fell into it so naturally. Didn’t we?” The corners of his lips twitched as he watched her nod in agreement. “Yeah. It was very easy for us to fall into it. You’re such a fast learner, such a good girl, I enjoy every single moment between us. In the arrangement or not. I’m not just doing this as a favor to your shitty boyfriend, darling. M’doing this because I want to be.” The statement hung between them for a few moments before he continued, noting the surprise on her face. “I really don’t think there’s anything you can do to make me want t’stop doing this with you. I know it’s inappropriate to say that, I know you’ve got a complicated situation going on with him, but there are things we need to talk about soon and I think that it’s better suited for a fresh mind that isn’t emotionally wrought after such an experience.”

There was a hint at what it was obviously about, that there were more feelings than either of them had bargained for, but after an intimate moment and the visit to the club he was making sure she had time to think on it and relax before he dropped a bomb that would inevitably change the relationship.

As much as he wanted to be selfish right now, he cared too much about her. He liked her so much that it knocked the wind out of him if he thought about it for too long. Moving his grip, his hand cupped her chin as he searched her face. Conflict, interest, relief, attraction, there were a lot of big emotions he could place on her face, but he couldn’t make out what to fully make of them.

“Okay.” Y/N sighed, lifting her wet hand to the back of his neck to mirror how he’d been holding her. It felt slightly possessive in nature and he had to admit that he really fucking liked how it felt. “Is it okay if we kiss, though? Even now?”

Harry was right to wait because obviously her brain was still a little fuzzy from their play earlier if she thought she had to ask for permission to kiss him. As if he didn’t want their mouths attached for hours at a time. Leaning himself up off of where he’d leaned his neck against the back of the tub, he connected their lips in a soft gesture. Thumbing over her chin, affections clear with how tenderly he touched her. She was so soft, so pliant in his arms that he could feel her melting at the kiss. This was what he wanted.

If he had it his way, he would have her in his bath or shower every single night. There would be no ‘going home’ because this would be her home. This would be her bathroom, and she’d leave her mascara tubes on the vanity that he’d inevitably put away later when she was asleep or otherwise distracted.

“Just to ease your fears a little…” She spoke lightly against his lips. “Whatever the discussion, I’m sure that however you feel is the same as I do. So don’t worry about a thing.”

Her reassurance, despite being the one who initially needed it, touched him. Sometimes he forgot he needed that too, and Y/N had been the one so far to remind him that the right person would check in on him too. As much as he loved and craved being the one in control, feeling cared for beyond the ropes and leather was something that he really loved. “Ditto, darling.” He laughed quietly. “Let me finish washing you up so we can have a proper cuddle, okay?”

“Yes, sir.”

—-

Harry had left momentarily to grab himself a refill on his water bottle- and to fill her own. It has become a bit of a habit now, seeing things and being reminded of Y/N. It had started slowly at first, reminders trickling in when he cleaned up after she left and the house felt weirdly empty. Then it was seeing the menu and a meal she would probably like, or the song she had showed him played in the radio. The pink pony song, more specifically. A car that looked like hers.

It had snowballed into him finding bits of her in everywhere he went. Realistically he knew he was in dangerous territory, not even bothering to duck for cover anymore as he made sure the straw was clean and popped the lid back onto the blue coated aluminum bottle. A powder blue with cherries and strawberries decorated all over it, something he had a feeling she would like based off of the cherry print panties she had ‘accidentally’ left here and the same ones he had lost his mind over finding.

It was a little bit of a blurred line, if he was allowed to buy her gifts like this, but he wanted to and she deserved cute little trinkets so when he’d seen it while shopping for some new food storage for his snacks, he’d thrown caution to the wind and added it to his cart.

It was ridiculous to be worried about her reaction to a water bottle, but he still was. He didn’t want to overstep but he also didn’t want to hide all of his intentions anymore. Harry liked her, liked-her liked her. He wanted her. There was no doubt in his mind he could provide leaps and bounds more for her than her current partner who had effectively handed her over to him on a silver platter, something he couldn’t ever dream of doing.

Harry knew that if he got the privilege of calling the woman his in all senses, he’d do anything he could to make her happy himself. No other men would be touching her. Looking? Fine. Welcomed, even with him being borderline selfish thus far. But touching would never happen because he wanted to own the rights to her orgasms and her nails in his skin and the trembling limbs underneath him. The taste of her mouth and the heat of her wrapped around him. No one else would get the pleasure.

It went beyond that, though. Walking up the steps with the bottles in hand, ice clinking in the out of them, he felt light thinking about walking in to see her with her hair piled on her head and one of his shirts on top of her form. She would be in his bed, safe and sound, waiting for him to hold her in his arms and relax her enough to sleep.

He also had to tell her about the text that had been waiting on his phone, but he wasn’t sure just how to break that.

The view was just as amazing as he imagined it, the girl sitting cross cross on her side of the bed with her phone in her hand- which was promptly clicked shut as he gained her attention.

“I got you something.” He murmured, sitting himself next to her. “It’s uh- I saw it the other day and it reminded me of you. The colors and the fruits on it. I figured you could have something to stay on your side of the bed.”

Y/N took the bottle in her hand, eyes widening slightly as she brought it up to take a look at it. His eyes studied her as she looked at the bottle, then back to him, then to the bottle. He hadn’t expected her to place the bottle to the side or for her eyes to be teary when she turned back to him, but there was little time to react before she threw herself at him. Climbing into his lap, her fingers splayed on his cheeks as she kissed over his lips and chin, making him laugh in surprise at such a large reaction. It was just a water bottle, but he wasn’t going to complain.

“Woah- woah, darling.” He chortled, wrapping an arm around her while putting his own bottle on the nightstand. “You alright?”

Concern brewed from the tears, but her smile was there as she nodded quickly. “Yeah! Yeah, I’m happy. I thought the kisses would show that- ouch!” The sass was interrupted by a pinch to her ass, Harry smirking as she gave him a look before it softened. The dynamic had shifted. It wasn’t just him being ‘Sir’ right now- that’s the same thing he’d do to Y/N. Not just his Pet.

“They did, even if they came from a smart mouth. I’m just unsure why you’re still crying, love.” He kept his tone light while wiping away a tear track, but it felt good to know it was a happy tear. There was no instance that Y/N would look bad. He was fully convinced of this.

“It’s just- I’ve never had someone do that before. I always hear people talk about their friends or significant others who say ‘oh, I saw this and thought of you’ and gave them something. And it isn’t about getting anything with money! It could be a rock, for all I care. It’s just… I dunno.” She ducked her head slightly, looking at his bare torso. “It felt nice to have that. It’s never been me, you know? Not saying no one cares about me but just in general, I think it means more because you… you know me better than most do.”

Even in the short time they’d known each other, Y/N was fairly certain Harry knew her better than Danny. Listened better, too. Every gift she had gotten from Danny had been something she had to point out. Nothing of his own accord. Every day with Harry had her questioning why she was still with the other man, even if only in name right now.

“You deserve those things. I wasn’t sure if it was an overstep so I.. I held off a bit on giving it to you. But if you’re okay with this sort of thing, it’s very often in my day that I find things that make me think of you. Is it okay if I get them? Give you gifts?” The question was asking permission so she didn’t feel overwhelmed or indebted. He wanted to do this. She hadn’t asked or implied it, but he liked giving her things. Orgasms, water bottles, smoothies, the lot.

“I… well, as long as it isn’t really expensive, sure.” She couldn’t be blamed for feeling excited. Having a man who wanted to do that for you, let alone expressing that he thought about her often enough to find things in their daily lives that they felt compelled to buy? He seemed unreal. Part of her wanted to doubt it, think that he wouldn’t actually do it, but Harry’s shown nothing but follow through.

“Amazing.” There was something lighter on his face. “Uh, I don’t want you to think this is just to soften a blow, because I promise that it isn’t. But I wanted to show you a text I got. I didn’t check my phone most of the night but, this was what I got.” The visible nerves on his face had her slightly confused.

Y/N’s brows furrowed as she looked down at his phone, Danny’s contact pulled up. He hadn’t texted since they’d went to meet the first time to discuss this arrangement, but the most recent one had her stomach dropping.

‘Hey h, was wondering how it’s going? I know it’s a weird request but can u ask y/n if she would be down to have me see what it is you guys get up 2? I kno it’s a weird thing to ask and I kno ima little tipsy lol but I keep thinking about what you guys are doing and idk I’m a little jealous. Maybe seeing it will calm that down? Idk idk idk. Can you run it by her?’

Another one followed.

‘We haven’t been talking a lot bc I want 2 give her space to get this out of her system and I don’t want her 2 be mad @ me but idk. I want to see it. Thanks bro’

Y/N sat silently as she looked at the phone, her mind going haywire as she tried to develop the right response. There was one answer she felt currently that was definitely not the right thing to say, but it ended up slipping out of her mouth anyways. It seemed that Harry had mixed some sort of truth serum in his kisses or the fruit he fed her, because her words were probably a bit more truthful than she would have chosen to be.

“Is it bad that I…. I kinda want him to watch? Because I want him to know that he can never do that to me?” She whispered, dropping the phone on the bed next to them, turning her head to look at him. It was slightly uncomfortable to say but if they were going for the truth, she may as well go all the way. Even if it was something that may make her look bad. “I feel like a terrible person. I feel like…. He’s made me feel so shitty, and I want to punish him for it but not in the… I don’t want to use you like that. I want to show that you are the best I’ve ever had and no one can compare to that. So I don’t know. What do you think?”

Harry was delicate in the way he responded for a multitude of reasons, but mostly because shamefully, her answer had truthfully made his cock twitch. Hearing her say that he was the best, that no one else could compare, that she wanted her boyfriend to see that Harry was the one who made her cum… it was tempting. The possessiveness in him liked the idea of laying claim to her that way.

He had tried so hard to be morally correct in this whole thing but the further he fell, the less he cared about Danny. The more he resented him. But if he wanted to subject himself to watching him fuck his girlfriend, if he wanted to see how much Harry could provide that he never could, if Y/N felt that way about it, maybe he could let morals cool down and do something that was a bit selfish.

But the real question was being raised in his head and he had to know the answer before he gave a yes. He had to know. The silence was louder than anything he’d heard before and he knew that it was now or never. Maybe it wasn’t the perfect time to ask, but he had to.

“Are you going to get back together with him, Y/N?” His question caught her off guard, but there wasn’t much hesitance with her answer.

“No.” She inhaled shakily. “I think… I know he can’t give me what I want.” Instant relief, instant gratification. He had a chance. He could have her, if he played his card right. There was no room for guilt anymore.

“Who can?” Harry’s hand crept under her shirt, leaning into her and letting their noses brush. His heart was thundering and he could feel her nerves but she was his brave girl. “Hm? Who can give you what you want?”

“You can.” The words were quiet, but the room was silent. He could hear a pin drop if his heart wasn’t beating hard in his ears. It was hard to believe she was giving him the answer he wanted all on her own, eyes searching hers as she gave into him. He could feel the shift, feel how she was handing a little more of herself over.

“Yeah. I can.” He confirmed, running his nose along the side of her cheek. “I can give you exactly what you want. So… yes. I think we should do it.” Fingers splayed along her bare back, pulling her into his body as her face nestled itself against his throat and he ghosted his lips against her hair. “M’not going to let you down like he’s done. So I’ll text him back. I’ll schedule it for next weekend… and then you’ll do it.”

What laid beyond that wasn’t completely certain. She could back out and decide not to break up with him, but Harry truly didn’t think that would be the case. She seemed certain on her own and without his pushing, but maybe he’d given her a bit of a gentle nudge himself.

Maybe she’d need a taste of what Harry could be like as a boyfriend and not just a dom.

——

Y/N woke up to soft kisses on her cheeks. A large hand under her shirt, similar to last night, but slow caresses moving rhythmically up and down her ribcage. Legs tangled together, she felt Harry notice she was awake but didn’t say a word as he connected their lips in a proper kiss.

Something last night had shifted them. She had a feeling it was the confirmation she wouldn’t be staying with Danny, but even more so that he had been confirmed to be the one who was able to give her what she wanted. As wrong as it may be to go through with that, she didn’t care.

Waking up to the most incredible shows of affection, something the other man had never truly given her besides a cuddle every once in a while, she had a glimpse of what Harry was truly like with her. A layer peeled back as the soft sounds of slow kissing filled the bedroom. Arching into him, she lazily draped her arm over his shoulder and felt him smile into the kisses, his own shaky exhale making her think about the fact that she probably wasn’t the only one heavily affected by it.

“Hi.” Pulling back nearly hurt her, but she wanted to hear his voice. The mornings in his bed she had experienced so far had been some of the best she could have ever imagined. It would have been a hint to her earlier that her relationship with Danny would be- should be- finished, just by how hard her heart beat when he laid in the bed next to her. Harry’s treatment of her had always been exceptionally gentle, but it took on a new meaning just by the look in his eyes as he met her sleepy ones.

“Hello.” He whispered, knuckles caressing the side of her cheek, still slightly marked from the pillow. Such a tiny detail, but it only seemed to make him feel more fond. “I tried to let you sleep for a bit, but… got a bit bored, if I’m honest.” The boyish smile was so different to the sensual, flirty ones she had gotten used to. It sparked a new sort of fluttering in her belly as he leaned his cheek into the pillow, looking her over. Studying her. Maybe she should feel a little more self conscious by such a close proximity examination, but she didn’t. Not in the slightest.

“S’okay.” She replied, eyes fluttering closed as he switched to fingertips mapping over her face as he pleased. “I don’t want to sleep the whole day away. I know you said you wanted to go somewhere today.”

In all honesty she was giddy at the idea of it. Harry had mentioned a little farmers market where he wanted to get some goat cheese to make this ravioli from scratch for dinner, and French bread that he claimed he could make but felt a little lazy in the idea of doing both homemade pasta and bread. Y/N couldn’t really be added to do either, so he wouldn’t have heard complaints from her either way.

“Mhm. I wanted t’make breakfast with you, though. Gonna get lunch out, but I think we could make some kick ass French toast. I’ve got this blueberry syrup and we can toast some pecans with brown sugar… trust me.” He inhaled deeply, pulling her into his body with the arm under her waist. “It’ll be so worth it.” His lips hovered over hers, giving a soft kiss to the swollen mouth before he forced himself to pull back. It was easy to get carried away. “I’ve got t’let Buttons out, so you can take a minute to wake up but…” filtering his eyes down towards her body, he took a moment to see the side of his shirt hanging off her shoulder. “Keep my shirt on. Alright? Just the shirt. Nothing else.”

He rolled out of bed, making his way towards the door when Y/N called after him.

“Is it an order from Daddy?” She said coyly, on her side as she ran her hand over the empty side of the bed.

“No. Jus’ something I want to see. Just Harry.”

—-

Harry hadn’t really thought the whole arrangement through.

In theory it had been simple enough, but in practice? It had gotten messy fast. He wasn’t supposed to do a lot of the things he had done for her. Get her gifts, kiss her outside of scenes, text her as much as he did. The biggest one he was positive he shouldn’t have done, though, was fall in love with her.

It wasn’t something he was going to admit to her yet. Even if he wanted to gather her in his arms and whisper it into her throat as he watched her pad into the kitchen with her bum peeking out slightly when she bent to pat Buttons on the head, he would wait. He’d wait as long as he had to, because last night she had restored his faith.

She was going to break up with Danny, and that meant she’d have room for him. He knew this could be considered a full blown affair if someone argued it that way, but in reality he had pushed them at each other. Two people beyond compatible in the bedroom had been shown to have even more of a connection outside of it. They got on incredibly, laughed together, had their little jokes and it had only been a relatively short amount of time compared to the amount she had dated her soon to be ex.

“Hm? Who can give you what you want?”

“You can.”

Fuck. That had been running circles on the hamster wheel that was his brain since she said it. Damn right, he could. He’d do it or die trying.

“How can I help?” She asked with her freshly washed face. The smell of mint and vanilla, her toothpaste and the body spray she had left in the bathroom. He could place them easily.

“Can I trust you to crack two eggs?” He asked with a bump to her hip as he reached over her head to grab a bowl. “Y’kinda give me the vibe that you get shell into it but… I’m willing to give you a chance.”

“You are rude this morning.” Y/N scoffed, hip bumping him back as she went towards the refrigerator. It felt so fucking good to see her in his kitchen. Messy bedhead she’d attempted to tame, his marks on her thighs exposed when she moved the right way, his shirt hanging off her body. This wasn’t the sort of feeling he had towards most of his submissives.

No, this was very clearly girlfriend territory.

“No, sweetheart. M’just joking. You know that.” He plugged in the electric griddle. “I’ve got the black stone outside but if I’m honest, it’s humid out and I can’t be arsed to deal with the whole going in and out thing. So we’ll stick to the kitchen.”

The mention of him being unnaturally attracted to seeing her padding around his kitchen barefoot was nowhere to be found. That was an inside thought for now.

“Whatever you say, boss.” She snorted. “You know I’m exceptionally good at taking orders. Put me to work.”

The quip resulted in a quick slap to her ass, glossed over by his slightly narrowed eyes before he got to talking. Y/N knew how to make French toast, as did a lot of people, but it was stupidly cute to see how focused she got. Making sure no shells got into the egg, whisking it together, sprinkling with cinnamon before Harry took the battered bread and let it sizzle on the cooktop, they worked as a well oiled machine.

“Alright. The final trick is to put the pan into the oven for a few minutes with the brown sugar and blueberry syrup to caramelize it a bit.” He answered her internal question as to why he had been putting them on a baking sheet without her having to ask. It had been so nice to just do something domestic like this. So low key and calm, falling into it like it was something they did daily. He could only wish for that.

Y/N placed the dishes into the dishwasher as he put the baking sheet into the oven and set the timer, giving him a lovely little peek of her ass when he turned back around. She wasn’t trying to be sexy at all, but he found that it just came naturally to her. Perhaps he was just that down bad, that desperate for her, but he felt the itching of his palms to grab her when she stood back up and he decided he wasn’t going to stop it.

Cool marble make her squeal as Harry lifted her up onto the countertop, the quickness of how he got her up there not giving her a second to even really understand what was happening until it was done and her knees were forced open so he could stand between them. “What happened to hello, how are you?”

“Hello.” His hand slipped under the shirt, splaying across the bottom of her spine as he pulled her closer to him. “How are you?” He wasn’t holding back from his pressing thoughts as he finally let himself bury his nose into the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent. The soap from the bath the night before, the vanilla body mist, the lingering of his sheets and imprint of the scent of him. Comfort wrapped around him like a blanket- or better said, her arms- as he felt fingers run over his bare shoulder.

“I’m good.” The lightness of her voice settled something in his stomach. Y/N took most things in stride, but it meant the most that she was taking this part so well. This wasn’t something he’d particularly fully indulged in with her before, but he’d wanted to. That little layer of separation was being chipped away, piece by piece as the connection to her boyfriend fell apart. “How about you?”

Harry pondered for a moment if the truth was something he should fully delve into, or if he should mask it. The depth of what he felt was intense and that wasn’t something he would think she’d be ready to hear quite yet, but he was praying that she would return the sentiments. Maybe after the official breakup. “M’wonderful, baby.” The pet name casually dropped into conversation seemed to effect her, the soft shiver not gone unnoticed. Regretfully, he forced himself to pull his face from her throat after giving a chaste kiss to the side of it to get a look at her features.

It sort of hit him in his stomach when he caught her eyes again. Seeing that fondness reflected back to him, one he knew was radiating off of him in waves, it swelled in his throat as he tried to swallow it back down to his belly. How had such an arrangement ended up in something like this? Handed over one of the most enchanting creatures on a silver platter for him to pluck straight into his lap? It only solidified that Danny had never deserved her.

To have her affections officially, to be the partner of someone who had used to talk highly of him and put up with such half assed attention, he had to wonder how anyone could take it for granted. He’d been in a few relationships, a time or two, and he’d been in love before. He knew he was a different man than her boyfriend, but never in his life would he take a look at the sweet fucking simper she was giving him right now and even fathom the idea of letting anyone else ever touch her. He’d be selfish, rightfully so. Hell, he was selfish now.

Harry was going to fuck her in front of said boyfriend as a parting gift. Show him what happens when you hand over your gift to someone who could treat her better, see the true value in her rather than take her for granted and brush aside her likes as a phase. He was going to take pleasure in every single whimper she gave him, every clench of her cunt, every scratch of her nails, every single time she called his name, because it was going to be a glimpse into her future- without him. Y/N was going to be his, if she allowed it. He was thoroughly prepared to fight and prove himself as someone worthy enough to have access to not only her body, but her heart.

The vision of her under him last night, on her knees with her face the vision of content as she rested her cheek on his knee and her hair stroked back with his fingers taking note of every strand was a reminder of what he could offer her. Y/N had shown him another side that further aided in his thoughts that she was made for him. Their playtime at the club wasn’t something that felt like a one and done- neither had their fuck at the bar right under her boyfriend’s nose as he had chosen to get drunk instead of spend time with the pretty goddess that now sat in his kitchen, with her arms around him. “Are you sore at all?” He knew her body had taken a bit more than one would be used to this weekend. “Are you feelin’ okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. I feel good.” She peeped, watching his eyes as fingers pushed hair off of her neck. The marks were steady there, blotches of passion on display. It would be hard to hide them, but he doubted she would want to. “I’m excited to spend the day with you.”

And, god, take him now. His chest heated and his heart melted into a google between his ribs, the smile lifting the corner of his lips inevitable as he was reminded of the day they’d be having. “Me too.” He was beyond excited. Giddy, even, but he had the ability to hide just how worked up it made him. “Gonna have a good day with you. Don’t want you t’go home after, though.” That would be the worst part. She had work the next day and as much as he wanted her to stay….

“Well…” She went shy, making him pause his thought process. “I don’t want to be presumptuous, but i um… I brought my work clothes and laptop. Just in case we got… I dunno what my thought process was. I don’t want to overstay my welcome, but if you really want me to stay-”

“Sweetheart, I don’t want you to go. I hate watching you leave.” He interrupted her. “House feels… Empty, i guess. When you leave I can feel it. I love having this place but I….” His words had left his brain without his permission, but he’d already been digging himself a hole since last night. “I didn’t realize how lonely it could feel until you left. I like how it feels to have you here. It feels right. “ It was a little much, but then again, she didn’t seem thrown off. If anything, her eyes brightened and she sat up a bit straighter.

“If you’re sure. Then yeah, I can stay.”

“Good. Cause knowing what I know now, I don’t think I’d let you leave.”

He just hoped she knew how far that statement really went.

—--------------

“Oh my god-” Her gasping voice broke through the bedroom as she writhed on the bed, her fingers tugging at the back of his head. The hum leaving his throat had her arching up into him, desperate to keep him close as his fingers fucked into her slick hole and his tongue lathed over her swollen clit. “M’gonna cum, m’gonna cum, can I cum?”

The desperation leaked in her voice. It had started out with him teasing her about the plug she’d washed in his bathroom sink from the nights prior and snowballed into him suggesting she wear it out. Suddenly she was on her second orgasm from his ruthless tongue and fingers, her little sundress flipped up over her tummy so it ‘wouldn’t get too dirty’.

“Gosh, I dunno.” Harry hummed, slick lips pulled into a faux frown. “Are you gonna stop fuckin’ teasing me today? Flashing that little cunt at breakfast, walkin’ around in your slutty bra… I already let you cum once.”

“Please, let me. Let me cum, I’ll be good. You can do whatever you want to me when we get home, I’ll suck you for hours, I’ll let you do anything, just let me cum.” Her eyes filled with frustrated tears again, surely messing up her mascara. It seemed to be one of his favorite pastimes, making her cry from pleasure.

“Oh, baby. You sweet little thing, I was already going to do whatever I wanted to you t’night. But I suppose we need to get a move on.” Clicking his tongue, as if it was a shame he couldn’t keep edging her all morning, he let out a sigh of defeat. “Suppose you can. Only because I don’t want t’hear you whining all morning about how mean I am.”

Really, it had been the fact she had called this place home. When we get home. Harry liked that quite a fucking bit.

Returning to his prior place, he let her pull him into her cunt and listened to her sobs of relief as she thanked him, gushing all over his tongue with a moan and trembling thighs locked around his ears. For the first time he let her do what she wanted in that regard, and he couldn't deny how much he loved it. Feeling her buck against his mouth and be unsure whether to push him away or pull him closer, her worked her through it with her cunt gushing around his fingers and swollen clit pulsing against his mouth.

He knew it was going to take him a moment to calm his cock down, but he did like to hold off for a bit. As easy as it would be to flip her over and use her warm, supple pussy to cum into, he wanted to play with her later. The wait would be worth it. Climbing up her body, he cooed softly at her as she looked at him with bleary eyes- only to laugh as her hands caught his face and tugged him down to kiss her. There was that whole other level of satisfaction he felt from having her be frantic for him, knowing she felt even a fraction of how he felt for her.

“You good, angel?” He asked softly, wiping his clean fingers under her eye. It hadn’t caused too much damage, but she’d need to go fix herself up.

“Mhm.” She giggled, nose brushing against hers. “I’m gonna need a moment to get feeling back in my legs. I don’t know how the hell you can do that.”

It was one of those moments that felt far more like a relationship than just a Dom and Sub dynamic. She hadn’t used any honorifics, not had he asked her to. He’d merely gotten to the point and Y/N had happily followed. “I’d apologize but m’not sorry in the slightest.” His smile brightened up his face before it fell slightly, lips falling back on hers. The comfortability around them had changed, merged into something else that he wasn’t sure what to call it- but he liked it. He liked it a lot. “I think after we get back, we can go for a soak in the hot tub. Sound like something you want to do?”

Contrary to popular belief there were differences between the bathtub and and the jacuzzi. He’d fight anyone on it. It was a hill he was willing to die on.

“Okay, that sounds like fun.” With her eyes falling shut, it gave him an opportunity to give her another admiring glance over. Her panties tucked to the side, sweat still beaded at her hairline, she looked so relaxed that he felt proud. He’d been the one to get her to this state. Hopefully she’d let this happen again, and again, and again.

“Perfect. I’ll help you clean yourself up and touch up your makeup and then we can go, okay?” Storoking his knuckles over her lip, he smiled when they pursed to kiss the skin. Such a small action that sent such a big reaction through him. “Think Buttons will want t’go with us?”

That had her eyes popping open, an excited gasp leaving her as she looked back up at him to see if he was serious. “Really? We can do that?”

The excitement was yet another thing that was an arrow right to the heart, having another strand of the thread keeping him from admitting how far gone he was with her fray and snap. Such a small thing had her eyes fucking sparkling up at him and he was probably going to fall over at how much he utterly adored that little look. “Of course we can.” He laughed under his breath. “The market’s outside and we can sit out on a patio for lunch. Get him a treat. It’ll be fun.”

Though when he saw Y/N waiting at the door with his leash in her hand and one of his denim jackets slung over her arms, bouncing on her heels as he approached, he had vastly underestimated how much he could see his future in that very image. Slipping his hand into her own as they walked towards his car and hearing her coo at his dog, talking about how ‘daddy had been so nice to offer them a day out’ before shooting him a wink, he felt the last little bit of that tether snap and the ground beneath his feet felt a lot like the open air.

Harry needed to keep this, recreate it and cherish it forever. If his future didn’t have Y/N hopping into the passenger seat of his car and sneaking Buttons a biscuit? He didn’t want it.

#jarofstyles #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry writing #harry styles imagine #harry drabble #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #the favor #favorrry #harry fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles au #harry styles oneshots #harry styles imagines

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lordprettyflackotara · 9 months ago

Text

snakelike || mattheo riddle

smut. 18+. minors dni. hate fucking. enemies to lovers trope. that’s it. it’s just that. bahaha enjoy ;)

Gryffindor.

Known for bravery, courage, and loyalty. These were supposed to be the core traits. Maybe they were for most Gryffindors. But the most defining trait Mattheo saw in you was something more. If it weren’t so defiant he would’ve questioned your house placement. You were known for your fucking nerve. You had the nerve to terrorize anyone who crossed you or stood in your way.

Mattheo knew this first hand, being your number one competitor. The two of you went head to head in quidditch, a permanent scowl stitched across your face everytime a green uniform stepped onto the field. To your displeasure they had won this year’s championship, winning the house cup along with the final quidditch match. Mattheo felt like he was making history, whilst being able to shove his victory in your face at the same time.

Oh, was it so bittersweet. The satisfaction of seeing your unscathed rage and envy. The downside? The subtle fear that lingered in the back of his mind. The fear that somehow someway, he knew you’d get him back.

In celebration of winning it all the Slytherins decided to throw a party. Exclusively Slytherins only, obviously. Usually they’d extend their invitation to other houses, a flirty Blaise Zabini a major advocate for ‘meeting new people.’ But tonight? All of the house members were buzzing with excitement, the ability to fully let loose creating quite a stir. Of course winning quidditch wasn’t the old fashioned way, playing fair and all. He honestly figured Madam Hooch would catch on. But she didn’t and Mattheo got away with whispering a few jinxes.

The smell of muggle grass and booze laced the air, violating the nostrils of every attendee. Mattheo silently thanked himself for choosing Blaise as the designated DJ, cringing at the memory of Lorenzo playing classical music at their last get together. His eyes glanced across the crowd of swaying bodies, searching for Theo or Draco. He was in the mood for a shot, but opted to be waiting so he could celebrate the houses victory with his best friends.

Mattheo thought he was getting intoxicated from the air when a flash of red walked by him. He narrowed his eyes, blinking a few times and trying to settle his vision through the flashes of blinding lights. A firm hand grabbed his shoulder, causing him to grab the strangers wrist and twist it. “Holy fuck dude, what the fuck?” Theo hissed. Mattheo instantly dropped his wrist, his green eyed friend raising his eyebrows at him. “Who pissed in your cheerios?” He seethed, rubbing his wrist. Mattheo awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, clearing his throat.

“Sorry, thought I saw a flash of red in here,” Mattheo explained. Theo chuckled, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. “No lions will be wondering into the snake den tonight Riddle,” He replied, extending the pack to him. Logically he was right, the appearance of a Gryffindor one even you wouldn’t be as bold to make. Mattheo took a cigarette from Theo’s pack, the two taking a brief moment to light the heads.

“Malfoy’s over by pool table. I think he’s trying to show Greengrass his skills,” Theo said, rolling his eyes. The two walked side by side, crowds departing to give them room to walk. Mattheo Riddle was well known and respected, whether anyone wanted to admit it or not. If it wasn’t enough being the dark lords son, his aggressive and violent nature built a reputation by itself. Mattheo was finally able to relax as the tobacco swirled around his lungs, creating comfort as he exhaled through his nostrils.

The pool table was a muggle sport, one Pansy insisted the group give a shot after spending an evening playing it with Hermione Granger. After managing to get one in the Slytherin common room, it became a regular spot for Mattheo and his friends. Before the duo could arrive, a frantic Pansy stood before them. “Hey guys I think we should go do shots! Why don’t we go do shots?” She suggested, smiling nervously. Mattheo glanced at Theo, the two communicating telepathically.

“Pans, what’s wrong?” Theo questioned. The short girl laughed awkwardly, placing her hands on both boys chest. “Nothing! Seriously though let’s go this way,” Pansy encouraged, trying to guide the boys in the opposite direction. That’s when Mattheo heard it, the sound of your beautiful laughter. His ears twitched, his eyes flickering upwards towards the pool table. “Son of a bitch,” He muttered, pushing past Pansy.

Theo and Pansy trailed behind him, recognizing the shit storm that was about to occur. You were bent over the side of the pool table, a red dress complimenting your curves. Your lips were painted the same shade of red, curled up in a smile as a familiar face guided you with the pool stick. Lorenzo stood behind you, your body’s connected as his hands sat over yours. Your eyes flickered up to Mattheo’s, soaking in his facial expression of rage.

“Hi Riddle,” You greeted, hitting one of the pool balls into the pocket with ease. Lorenzo grinned, leaning back and grabbing the pool stick from your hand. “See? I told you that you’d be a pro in no time,” He said encouragingly. Mattheo looked between the two of you, racking his brain for an explanation. “A lion cub wondering into a snake den wasn’t the wisest decision, don’t you think?” Mattheo spat, lacing his words carefully. The only conclusion he could draw, based on the goofy grin on Lorenzo’s face, was that his friend was oblivious, naive, and an idiot.

“I’d be careful disrespecting a pride’s leader Riddle. Wouldn’t want anyone to get hurt,” You purred, batting your eyelashes mockingly. Pansy and Theo exchanged glances, attempting to anticipate Mattheo’s next move. He was boiling was rage, your stupid red dress only igniting the flame further. “Can’t we all just have a good time guys? After all, it’s a celebration isn’t it?” Lorenzo suggested, sipping his red solo cup. Mattheo inhaled more of his cigarette, flicking away the ashes onto the dreaded pool table. The table that, at this current moment, was the bane of his existence.

Lorenzo frowned at the sight of the ashes. “Hey you’re going to ruin the game, you’ve got to give up cigarettes,” He said, handing the pool stick back to you. Mattheo took one last deep inhale, a naive Lorenzo placing his red solo cup on the edge of the table. “Alright, i’ll start now,” He agreed, shoving the bud of his cigarette in his red solo cup. The sizzle of the flame was music to Mattheo’s ears, his lips curling up in a devilish grin. Lorenzo’s face twisted in disgust, going to take a step towards Mattheo.

Mattheo was never one to shy away from a fight, even if it was one of his moron friends. You quickly stepped in between them. “Enough of this petty shit. Get out of here Riddle,” You spat, glaring up at the tall Slytherin. For a brief moment, when you weren’t running that mouth of yours, Mattheo consciously thought to himself you were quite pretty. “I’ll leave, but you’re coming with me little cub. Otherwise the next time I put out my cigarette it’ll be on his forehead,” Mattheo snarled, glaring at the man behind you.

You gritted your teeth, grabbing Mattheo’s wrist harshly. “You wanna play? Fine. Let’s play,” You grumbled, digging your nails into his skin. You dragged him through the crowd, a Gryffindor dragging Mattheo around an impossible sight. You dragged him over to the closest room, tossing him inside. Mattheo didn’t know the owner of this dorm room, but he was pleased to see it was empty.

“You’ve lost your fucking mind coming here,” Mattheo growled. You audibly scoffed, folding your arms. “Guess i’m joining you then, considering you lost yours when you decided to jinx my fucking broom!” You argued. Mattheo’s hardened gaze temporarily fell, shock briefly washing over his features before he swiped it away. “I may not be a Ravenclaw but i’m not stupid. You’re just lucky I found out long after the game,” You huffed. Mattheo hadn’t anticipated this outcome, your intelligence a trait he had underestimated.

“Why didn’t you snitch to madam hooch?” Mattheo questioned. He eyed you carefully, your small figure much more intimidating than before. “I figured riding your best friends face would work far more sufficient,” You quipped, grinning mischievously. Mattheo was on you in a flash, shoving you against the closest wall. His hands pinned you against the dark wood, his face inches from yours. “You fucking slut,” He growled. You glared up at him, your eyes briefly flickering down to his soft lips.

You couldn’t deny how attractive he was, the smell of cigarettes and cologne flooding your nostrils. You could faintly smell his conditioner from his head full of curls, his hair having grown a bit longer than the last time you had seen it. “Fuck you Riddle,” You spat weakly, your heart beginning to race. Tensions were rising quickly, the close proximity filling your stomach with butterflies. “Dont fuck with me princess, i’ll reach in that pretty little chest of yours and pull your heart out,” Mattheo huffed. He could feel adrenaline running through his veins, an odd mixture of rage and lust falling over him.

Your eyes, usually so fierce and viscous, seemed to be softening. Your pupils were blown, a familiar gaze of lust having fallen over your features. A silent war took place, one where neither of you wanted to make the first move. Heavy breathing ensured, fast heart beats, and intense eye contact were the only things stopping you from ripping each other apart.

You grabbed handfuls of his shirt, yanking his lips to yours. A rough clashing of teeth and tongues ensued, Mattheo’s hands quick to find your waist. He yanked you towards him, the taste of cigarettes and mint lacing your tongue as you both fought for dominance. You couldn’t give in to him. You couldn’t let him think he was in control. You pushed him towards the bed, struggling to reach your back zipper. “Having trouble princess?” Mattheo asked mockingly, smirking down at you. You tried to reach the zipper, straining your arm to do so.

“Shut it Riddle,” You snapped, face growing red with embarrassment. Fuck were you adorable. He reached around you, slowly pulling your zipper down. You could feel heat surging through your cheeks as your dress fell, leaving you almost fully exposed. You were a sight for sore eyes, Mattheo’s refusing to stray from you. “And to think you were hiding all of this under quidditch gear,” He mumbled, soaking in your figure. You rolled your eyes, fiddling with the buttons on his shirt.

“If you keep up all of this talking i’m going to change my mind. I’m not here for your witty comments Riddle,” You spat, your attention focused on undoing his button. He grabbed your wrist firmly, bringing you a mere inch away from his face. “You and that fucking mouth. If you want me to make you cum you’re going to get on your knees and put that mouth to good use,” Mattheo growled. You couldn’t help but feel your stomach flip at the sound of his words. You controlled every aspect of your life, even if you didn’t want to.

Someone so toxic, someone you despised, calling the shots turned you on beyond belief. You sank to your knees, undoing Mattheo’s belt. “There we go, that’s a good girl,” He praised. You pulled down his slacks, yanking down his boxers with them. His cock was bigger than you expected, your eyes widening in visible shock. “Weasley’s can’t compete with me, can they?” Mattheo asked mockingly. His taunting words snapped you out of your trance, your eyes shooting daggers up at him. You licked the underside of his shaft, purposefully dragging your tongue painfully slow.

Mattheo tried to conceal a groan, his hand automatically flying to your hair. He bit his bottom lip as you took him into your mouth, swirling your tongue around his slit. “Fucking shit,” He huffed. He pushed you down further onto his cock, your thighs tightening at the sensation. The feeling of being used was enticing enough. The feeling of being used by your arch rival, the same one you insult on the quidditch field, was euphoric.

You forced your jaw to go slack, encouraging him to face fuck you. Mattheo looked down at you with proud eyes, admiring his cock in your mouth. “You are so pretty like this, fuck,” Mattheo groaned. He bucked his hips inside of your mouth, gripping a handful of your hair. His cock abused your throat, saliva dripping down the sides of your mouth and pooling onto the floor. You finally gagged, the sound music to Mattheo’s ears. He smirked down at you, finally pulling out of your mouth to give you air.

“You’re so pathetic, on your knees for me like a whore,” He snickered. Tears were flooding your waterline, your doe eyes admiring Mattheo from below. You quickly rose to your feet, pushing him back against the bed. “You and that fucking tongue,” You muttered. You quickly stripped yourself of your bra and panties, both of you rushing to take off Mattheo’s shirt. Your eyes briefly studied the scars that stained his chest, different than the ones that covered his face.

For a brief moment Mattheo could see empathy flicker across your face, before your eyes went up to his. “This tongue has gotten me more places than yours ever could,” He bickered weakly, your exposed breast and cunt making his mouth water. Electricity was buzzing between the two of you, your hips straddling him. You rubbed your folds up and down his shaft, earning a moan from the brunette below. “You didn’t think i’d let you fuck me without putting that tongue to good use, right?” You asked mockingly.

You quickly repositioned yourself hovering over Mattheo’s face. His large hands cupped your ass, bringing you closer to his mouth. You let out a string of curses as his tongue began lapping at your cunt, teasing your hole and swirling around your clit. “Fucking shit, fuck Mattheo,” You whined, gripping and pulling at his chocolate curls. Mattheo gripped your ass harder, purposefully squeezing the flesh as rough as you were pulling his hair. In a swift motion he flipped you around, your back hitting the mattress below as Mattheo made himself comfortable between his legs.

He brought two fingers to your dripping entrance. “Interesting how wet this tongue has made you, isn’t it?” Mattheo asked, smirking as your walls eagerly accepted his digits. You groaned in response, your hips bucking upwards as his fingers curled inside of you. You bit your bottom lip, attempting to hide any of the sinful noises that threatened to escape your lips if you broke composure. Mattheo noticed, his fingers stopping right as they brushed against your g spot.

“You better start moaning my name or i’ll stop. Wanna hear those pretty sounds,” He threatened. You whined as you grinded pathetically against his fingers, his digits finally curling again. “Please please please,” You pleaded, a knot tightening in your stomach with each pump. Mattheo sucked at the skin in between your thighs harshly, creating small hickies on the sensitive skin. “Thats it, keep begging for me,” He chuckled, relishing in the sight of you pleading for him. You were at his mercy, his will for once. And fuck was it a satisfying position to be in.

Mattheo began drawing sloppy circles around your clit with his thumb, your fingers entangling themselves deeper into his curls. “Matty i’m gonna cum-” You warned, an unholy moan escaping your throat as you released on his fingers. That nick name. That fucking nick name. Mattheo finger fucked you through your high, the feeling of you cumming for him and moaning that nick name made his heart thump harder. Slowly he pulled his fingers out of you, repositioning himself above you. You looked dazed, your vision settling as his brown eyes stared down at you.

“Still think you can handle me princess? You look pretty fucked out to me,” Mattheo asked, playing with a strand of your hair. You blinked a few times, your vision settling on a cocky Mattheo. “You wouldn’t last a minute fucking me Riddle, don’t get too cocky,” You replied. Mattheo’s smirk fell, his hands quick to roughly reposition you. You arched your back as soon as you registered you were on all fours, your ass high in the air for Mattheo’s viewing. He bit his bottom lip as he gripped the flesh, bringing his tip to your aching cunt.

He rubbed his shaft up and down your folds, collecting your slick as you whimpered beneath him. He quickly shoved himself inside of you, not bothering to take things slow. You wanted rough? He’d show you fucking rough. “Dont pussy out on me, you can take it can’t you princess?” Mattheo purred. The pain began mixing with pleasure as he jerked his hips into yours, brushing against your g spot. “Fuck you Riddle,” You spat, trying to hold on to some sense of dignity. Mattheo leaned over, his voice assertive, “Oh I will.”

His time of being nice was over, his hips rutting into yours like a wild animal. You couldn’t control your moans as he fucked you, his cock mercilessly abusing your cunt to Mattheo’s liking. “Feels so so g-good Matty,” You whined. His large hand flew down to your hair, grabbing a handful and yanking it towards him. “Lorenzo couldn’t fuck you like this, could he?” Mattheo asked roughly. You responded with incoherent babbles and curses, his cock continuing to slam inside of you.

A sharp slap landed on your ass, causing you to snap out of your haze. “I asked you a question slut,” He huffed. You were so fucking pretty like this, begging for more underneath him. If he had known you were this tight, this addicting, he would’ve done this a long time ago. “No he couldn’t, only you,” You babbled, whimpering as he released your hair. Your mind went blank as he fucked you, any feelings of resentment and hatred fading away with each thrust.

He may have ruined your chances at winning the house cup, but fuck did he make you feel good. Mattheo was pounding you into the bed, strings of curses with mixtures of your name leaving his lips as he harshly gripped your waist. You could feel yourself getting closer to the edge, your walls squeezing him tighter. “Awe are you gonna cum before me? Really? That’s quite pathetic,” Mattheo huffed, sensing your oncoming orgasm. Warnings of your impending release were made, Mattheo’s thrust becoming impossibly faster.

“Fucking hold it, wanna cum with you, cum with me,” He panted, his cock twitching just in time. You grabbed handfuls of the sheets as you came on his cock, milking him dry for every last drop of his seed. You could feel his warm cum painting your cunt, his cock still buried inside of you. Mattheo didn’t want to leave your cunt, his heart feeling like it was going to burst inside of his chest. Slowly he pulled out of you, readjusting you gently. It felt odd, Mattheo’s fingertips grazing your skin as if you were fragile.

You rolled over onto your back, Mattheo laying beside you. “That wasn’t half bad Riddle,” You say, halfway attempting at a compliment. Mattheo smirked down at you, wrapping his arm around you. He brought you closer, pretending he didn’t notice your cheeks flush red. “Call me Matty,” He replied. A peaceful silence filled the room for a moment, the only audible sound being both of your breathing. It wasn’t in Mattheo’s nature to stay quiet for long, his next words leaving his lips without a second thought:

“That was pretty snakelike what you did, sneaking in here just to spite me. You sure you weren’t placed in the wrong house?”

“Shut it Matty.”

#mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #slytherin #slytherin boys #mattheo riddle x y/n #theodore nott #theodore nott smut #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy smut #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x you #blaise zabini #harry potter #harry potter smut

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helenofsparta2 · 9 months ago

Text

Annabeth is the strategic leader of Camp Half Blood, and Percy is the emotional one

If you have time to prepare for a battle or a quest, days, weeks or even months, the Athena cabin, and Annabeth in particular, are the obvious bet.

Camp Half-Blood has known Annabeth since she was seven years old and experienced her getting better and better at strategizing with each passing year and win victory after victory at capture the flag.

They know that she is the demigod who managed to stay alive while living on the streets with Thalia and Luke, who held the sky and accompanied Percy on most of his quests, who has been part of the prophecy of the seven, survived Tartarus and managed to follow the Mark of Athena as the only Athena kid in over 3000 years.

They know that she is going to come up with a plan that is going to give them with close to no doubts the upper hand. She has their absolute trust in that regard.

But when you're feeling hopeless in the middle of a battlefield? When your entire body is aching, and you're so close to desperation you just want to lay down your weapons or run away? Or when something somehow goes wrong, and you need to immediately improvise?

Then you look to Perseus Jackson.

The guy who has been standing on the front lines for so long, it is more familiar to him than the schoolyard, who has been fighting toe to toe with gods and titans since he was twelve years old. The guy who has successfully been part of more quests than any other demigod alive. The guy, who you know would give his own life for you without a second thought. The guy who jumped into Tartarus just so his girlfriend wouldn't have to face it alone.

The guy who is defined by his selflessness, genuine kindness, humbleness and bravery.

Mars told Frank in Son of Neptune that Percy is the glue that will hold the seven together, but it goes much deeper than that. He is the glue that holds all demigods together, be it at the Battle of Camp Half Blood, the Battle of Manhattan, or the Battle in front of New Rome, because more than any other character we have met in any of Rick’s books, Percy Jackson inspires loyalty and trust.

I’m not saying that those roles are not interchangeable.

Demigods obviously also rely emotionally on Annabeth, especially the Athena cabin, and Percy does often also come up with brilliant strategies (mind you, he was the leader, both emotional and strategic during the battle of Manhattan), but in the grand scheme of things, those are the roles the two of them have, and one of the main reasons why they are such a dangerous duo.

#heroes of olympus #percy jackson #rick riordan #percy and annabeth #annabeth chase

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bones4thecats · 5 months ago

Note

You could do, Tfp Wheeljack x fembot conjux reader, both see Miko as if she were their Sparkling

TFP! Wheeljack and S/O Adoring Miko

Character: Wheeljack and Miko Nakadai (Transformers Prime) Requester: @zinnia1506 A/N: Cliffhanger at the end! Woo! Hope you like it! ⚠️ Spoilers/Trigger Warnings for: Nothing really ⚠️

Disclaimer: Wheeljack + S/O are romantic while Miko is platonic

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Wheeljack and Miko Nakadai ═════════════════╝

🧨🎸 Wheeljack admired you since the first time you met

🧨🎸 As a fellow wrecker, you were known for your bravery and love for destroying anything you were against. And something you were strongly against was the Decepticon cause

🧨🎸 You had just finished clobbering a load of Vehicons when you turned around as saw a Ground-Bridge open, revealing a larger mech and tiny human coming through it. You knew the three of them well

🧨🎸 Bulkhead, the green mech, smiled and waved you to come through the bridge back to the base. Wheeljack, your sparkmate of many years, just smirked and waited for you to come by so he could wrap an arm around your waist. And Miko, the human female, stood there to wait for you to finally tell her the ending of an old war-story of yours

🧨🎸 Walking through the Ground-Bridge with Wheeljack hanging on you while Bulkhead carried Miko back inside was entertaining to say the least

🧨🎸 Wheeljack was raving about how amazing of a fighter you were while Miko asked Bulkhead about what you were like before the whole Decepticon vs Autobot thing started on Cybertron

🧨🎸 You four made it back to the base, much to everyone's relief, and you went to the base's rooftop to get a view of the planet you were on. Wheeljack followed you soon after along with Miko, who was kind of upset that Bulkhead had to leave for patrol

🧨🎸 The mech sat beside you with his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him than the edge you were sitting on. Miko just perched on your hand, which was on Wheeljack's leg, and asked you a simple question

"How did you guys meet?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like, where and when did you guys finally y'know... get to see each other for the first time?"

"Oh. We met quite some time ago, though I remember it like it was yesterday." You chuckled.

🧨🎸 Wheeljack smirked and pat the young girl's head before motioning for you to start telling the story

🧨🎸 As you spoke, a fighter jet flied above, keeping his height the same as he observed the situation. How cute... and beyond sickening this display of affection was

🧨🎸 Perhaps Lord Megatron would like to hear that the one-indestructible duo of Y/N and Wheeljack had a fleshy-weakness...

#Transformers #Transformers Prime #TFP #TFP Autobots #TFP Humans #Transformers x Reader #Transformers Prime x Reader #TFP x Reader #TFP Autobots x Reader #TFP Humans x Reader #S/O! Reader #GN! Reader #Cybertronian! Reader #Parental-Figure! Reader #TFP Wheeljack #TFP Wheeljack x Reader #TFP Miko Nakadai #TFP Miko Nakadai x Reader

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potatopassenger · 7 months ago

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Usopp and Zoro might be my fave duo in Drum Island purely because they just don't understand how the other one works and then lose all sense of situation because of it

Exhibit A) Usopp trying to help Vivi feel better:

Zoro: He's talking shit

Exhibit B) Usopp moved by Dalton's bravery trying to do a grand gesture:

Zoro: Usopp needs my help

Exhibit C) Usopp trying to instil confidence in the villagers and also show off

Zoro: Focused on finding the others

#like obvs they know each other well enough for Zoro to recognise Usopp's lying and Usopp knows he can hide behind Zoro #but they really do not read the room #Vivi needed that comfort Zoro!#Dalton needed to be carried Usopp!#Usopp wants to be a storybook hero with some of the qualities Zoro shows #whereas Zoro has no patience for any of that or any other people but the crew #so their goals are constantly misaligning even though they make each other stronger #like Usopp wants to help Dalton but doesn't have the strength #Zoro has the strength but not the empathy to help Dalton but he does for Usopp #but Usopp misreads that as Zoro taking away his moment #and Zoro is confused why Usopp doesn't like that he's helping him #but they've helped Dalton #you get me?#usopp #roronoa zoro #nefertari vivi #one piece #drum island #alabasta saga #dynamic #zosopp

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the-epic-sanses · 4 months ago

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Helloooooo, great nation! I am still figuring out duo names, so until then, I will just be using "(insert character) and (insert character)" until I can think of better ones.

#I should probably have a chatting tag too huh #I am figuring this out as I go #I was thinking of calling Color and Delta Bravery Duo #modchatting

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howlsofbloodhounds · 1 month ago

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Color and Delta should have a big comfy rocking chair in the living room of their apartment and when Color is refusing to sleep and Beta has a nightmare and is in control, they’ll just sit there and Color will hold Bee, running their fingers through his hair and rock the kiddo to sleep while watching the stars outside the window

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glossdebut · 2 days ago

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PRICE OF FAME | MYG ★ 04

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

✧ SERIES SUMMARY: You were about ready to give up, your career nowhere near what you dreamed it’d be when you started at eighteen, bright-eyed and naive. Reality for you these past few years has consisted of pouting at a camera, ignoring whispers of your name at company events, and ensuring that the stupid, tiny designer purses they keep forcing on you can at least carry a flask. But now, you’re helping a friend in need. For the first time in a long time, it feels like you’re doing something worthwhile with your life. Too bad Min Yoongi, the newest thorn in your side, seems insistent on stopping you.

✧ SERIES TAGS: enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, smut, fake/pretend relationship (not main couple), rockstar!yoongi, model!reader, guitarist yoongi, singer jungkook, bassist taehyung, drummer jimin, manager namjoon, yoongi & maknae line are in a rock band, reader & seokjin are best friends, yoongi & hoseok are best friends (sope duo ftw), yoongi has a tongue piercing, reader is a brat

✧ CHAPTER TAGS/WARNINGS: flashback in italics, the first chapter all in MC pov!, The Truce, yoongi is insane about pens and notebooks again, communication via lipliner and water, yijeong cameo, park jimin strikes fear into yoongi’s heart, tangerine hats and heart-pocket pants, seokjin is unhelpful, idk most of this chapter is a bit silly to be completely honest with y’all, stuff happens but i don't want to give too much away (see series masterlist for series warnings)

✧ CHAPTER WORDCOUNT: 6.8k words

✧ AUTHOR’S NOTE: i told y’all this was a slow burn... but happy valentine’s day! thank you to tanni @yooniivrse and K @ktownshizzle for beta reading this chapter (and K again for literally writing a whole line for me when i got stuck)

CH. 04: E-X-P-L-O-D-E

There are worse places to be, you think, than sitting across from Yoo Kihyun.

He’s easy on the eyes, that’s for sure. Expensive clothes, perfect teeth, dark brown hair styled neatly away from his forehead. An endearing little divot at the curve of his sharp jawline. The kindest eyes you think you’ve ever seen.

The restaurant he’s picked is a bit hard to get into, a new trendy spot that’s had a line out the door every night since it opened. You’re honestly a little impressed that he managed to get a reservation. If the flush in his cheeks when you mention that is anything to go by, that was his intention.

You’re no good at first dates, but Kihyun doesn’t seem to mind carrying the conversation. He has plenty to talk about, riding high on his critically acclaimed debut. Well-earned acclaim, in your book—he has a beautiful voice, along with a charming personality that his growing fanbase is sure to love the more they get to know him.

You’re happy to listen, and even happier to keep the attention off of yourself for as long as you can. Kihyun’s relatively new to the industry, hasn’t been in the game for too long, and you’re starting to realize that the less he knows about you, the more you like him.

It’s been a long time since you’ve been in such an intimate setting with a man, and you’re surprised by how at ease you begin to feel as the night goes on. The tension in your body dissipates more and more with every sip of wine, every kind word. Kihyun hasn’t made any move to touch you, but by the time he pays the check, you’re starting to think you’d let him if he tried.

You wait together, side by side, for the valet to pull his car around. Maybe it’s the wine, but in a moment of bravery, you allow your fingers to slide between his tentatively. Your heart skips a beat when his hand squeezes yours, interlacing your fingers all the way.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” Kihyun says, his voice soft. “I’m sure you get that all the time, being a model. But it’s true.”

His free hand comes up to brush your hair away from your face, and you turn to him. “It’s the first thing I noticed about you,” he adds.

It’s the first thing everyone notices about you now, with your new career path. More often than not, it’s the only thing people bother to notice, you think. You still haven’t learned how to respond to the compliments, not when you don’t even know how to feel about them.

You kiss him instead. Your hand on the back of his neck, pulling him to meet you. His lips firm against yours, frozen in surprise, before they yield into something softer. Tentative. Chaste. Gentle.

You were probably going to do it anyway. It feels better than saying ‘thank you’ when you’re not sure you’d really mean it.

★ ★ ★

A week has passed since you shook hands with the devil.

To his credit, Yoongi seems to be holding up his end of the deal—better than you are, even. It’s unsettling. You think you hate it.

It’s gone like this:

Day One

You wake up and choose violence.

The memory of Yoongi using your ex-boyfriend against you is still fresh in your brain, and you decide to say fuck the truce until he pays suitably. It’s only fair.

Yoongi doesn’t leave the house often, unless dragged, but the universe seems to be on your side today. He’s out of cigarettes! Praise be. Surely his absence, however brief, will give you enough time to exact your revenge.

You tiptoe down the stairs just in time to watch the back of his stupid head disappear as the front door closes behind him. As soon as the lock clicks, you’re springing into action.

Careful not to tip off his bandmates, you slink around the house, stuffing your cardigan pockets with every single Uni-Ball Jetstream Premier pen you can get your sights on.

Maybe it’s childish, stealing all of Yoongi’s pens, but fuck it. What else do you know about him? What else is there to take? Pens will have to do.

By the time you’ve scanned each room in the house, twice, your pockets are overflowing. More pens create indentations in your stomach, stashed in the elastic of your leggings like a belt. Like a trophy.

Fifty-six pens are dumped into the bathroom sink. An absolute mental patient amount of pens for one person to have, you think as you separate them into groups of seven. You bundle them with hair ties, stuff them into your emptied makeup bag, and hide your crime in plain sight—the bathroom counter.

Then you wait.

The payoff isn’t immediate. Once he gets back, it takes an hour or so for Yoongi to start patting his pockets. A little longer for drawers to be rifled through, for couch cushions to be overturned. You just watch, confident that he won’t find anything.

By the end of the night, the house looks like it’s been ransacked by a crazed fan, and your makeup bag remains untouched.

Day Two

You have sightseeing plans with Jeongguk today, a visit to the aquarium where photos are sure to be taken. You’re just about to leave the bedroom and head downstairs to meet him when you notice a piece of paper at your feet.

When you pick it up, you’re faced with the scrawl of Yoongi’s handwriting, smudged in an eerily familiar shade of pink.

The name Yoo Kihyun will never come out of my mouth again if that’s what you want. Have mercy on my pens. They didn’t do anything wrong.

— The only person committed to this truce, apparently

P.S. Your lipliner is now a prisoner of war

You absolutely do not snort at Yoongi’s note. You don’t find him funny.

What is funny, however, is that when he swiped the lipliner from the bathroom you share with Jeongguk, he was less than three feet away from all fifty-six of his pens the whole time. Hilarious.

Later, when you’re watching a group of penguins waddle behind glass, you’re hit with a wave of genius.

“Jeongguk-ah.”

“Hm?”

“Can you give me Yoongi’s number? I don’t have it.”

Jeongguk seems more than happy to comply, instantly fishing his phone out from the inner pocket of his jacket.

“Wow, you two are really getting along now, huh?” he asks, sounding more than pleased as he taps on his phone screen a few times.

“What can I say?” you hum, retrieving your own phone as it buzzes in your purse. “You were right. We have more in common than we thought.”

You open your camera app and hit record, zooming in on one of the penguins for a few seconds. It’s the first thing you send to Yoongi.

You: has anyone ever told you that you walk like this?

Day Three

Yoongi has a new pack of pens delivered to the house. You decide to let him keep them, since your message was clearly received. No response to your penguin text yet.

Day Four

Jeongguk needs to learn to read the room, you decide.

It’s late as fuck. You’ve been out all night with him, on another sightseeing trip—following him around, holding his hand, resting your head on his shoulder. Everything that’s expected of you.

By the time you make it to the bedroom, the mask of ‘fake girlfriend’ feels too tight, too heavy. All you really want is to climb into bed and go to sleep.

Instead, you’re wide awake, idly scrolling on your phone in bed while Jeongguk talks to his real girlfriend over the phone. With all the fucking lights on.

Despite how hard you try to tune them out, you catch every single word. Jeongguk doesn’t seem to even notice that you’re in the room with him, that you’re trying to sleep, too busy cooing sweet nothings over the line.

In this moment, you’re more aware of where you stand with Jeongguk than you’ve ever been. And for the first time since this whole charade began, you’re actually kind of grateful that you’re not really dating Jeongguk. As it turns out, Jeongguk in love is nauseating. Since you’re on your phone, you go ahead and tell Seokjin as much.

After toughing it out for nearly half an hour, you slip out of bed. You decide to go get yourself a glass of water or something, give Jeongguk time with his girlfriend. You’re sure he misses her.

You tiptoe to the door quietly, not wanting to draw any more attention than necessary to your presence or your departure. “Noona, I’ve been thinking about you all day,” Jeongguk whines, completely oblivious to you.

Aw hell nah.

You book it down the stairs as fast as humanly possible, so fast that you’re out of breath by the time you make it to the bottom.

The living room is dark when you pass through it. You think, for a moment, that you and Jeongguk might be the only ones still awake at this hour. As you get closer to the kitchen, though, the smell of fresh coffee floods your senses.

There’s only one person in this house insane enough to make coffee this late at night.

“Hey.”

The sound of your voice makes Yoongi freeze in his tracks, caught, but he shakes it off quickly.

“Hey,” he replies in kind, looking you over. “You’re up late.”

Something in his tone makes you pause, confused, until you look down at yourself and realize what he must be thinking. You’re in sleep shorts and a tank top, barely covered despite the chill outside, sneaking downstairs late at night. From the room that you share with your supposed boyfriend. Out of breath and shaken up.

He probably thinks you just had sex.

“Couldn’t sleep,” you reply stiffly. “Thought I’d get some water.”

Yoongi doesn’t say anything else, opting instead to stare at the coffee pot as it brews in front of him. Good. You don’t want to know what he’s thinking.

You grab a glass from one of the cabinets, filling it up at the sink. It hits you, as you take a sip, that you haven’t actually spoken to Yoongi since the truce began four days ago. Nothing beyond a note written in your lipliner and an unanswered text about penguins. You don’t know how to act around him now, unsure of how guarded you need to be.

Thankfully (you hope), he breaks the silence first.

“I’ll be out of your hair once this is done,” he says, gesturing towards the coffee. You can’t help but note that he still isn’t looking at you.

“Who drinks coffee this late, anyway?” It’s an attempt at a joke, something to cut through the awkwardness settling between you.

Right at that moment, the coffee pot beeps. Wordlessly, Yoongi fills his mug and shuffles past you like he’s in a hurry, hot coffee threatening to spill over.

“People with albums to write,” he mumbles once he reaches the doorway. Without another glance in your direction, he’s gone.

Day Five

Your day starts with a pounding in your head.

Despite both of you falling asleep around the same time (read: late as hell), the couch Jeongguk’s been sleeping on is desolate when you open your eyes.

He does that, you’ve noticed. No matter how late he stays up, he’s always up at the asscrack of dawn, going for a run or whatever it is he feels so compelled to do during the devil’s hours.

You roll out of bed around ten. You don’t have anything to do today, and judging by the quiet, it seems like you might have an empty house on your hands. It’s for the best, you think, because your skull feels like it’s about to pop.

Coffee, then. That should help.

Almost as soon as you cross the threshold from bedroom into the hallway, you’re intercepted by an extremely perturbed Yoongi.

“Okay, the pen thing was cute and all, but this is a little different,” he says. No hi, hello, how are you? Great. Your temples are throbbing.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mumble, making an attempt to push past him so you can get to the stairs, but Yoongi stops you with a hand on your elbow. Again with that shit.

“YN,” he huffs, unimpressed. “Just give it back. I know you have it.”

“Have what? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you repeat, jerking your arm out of his grasp. “Will you stop fucking doing that, by the way?”

“My notebook,” Yoongi says, stepping in front of you again. “I can’t find it, and you stealing my shit seems to be a running theme this week.”

You blink at him, brows knitted together in confusion. His notebook? The fuck?

“What, you only had the one? But five dozen pens didn’t seem like overkill?”

“YN, I’m not fucking around,” he snaps. “There’s shit I need in there. Like all the songs for the album I’m here to write? An album I’d really like to finish as fast as possible.”

He doesn’t say the ‘so I can get away from you’ part, but he doesn’t really have to. His tone says enough.

That doesn’t change the fact that you don’t have his shit.

“Should’ve kept better track of it, I guess. I don’t know what to tell you.”

At this, Yoongi laughs, sharp and bitter. “You are fucking ridiculous, you know that? You’re the one who wanted this stupid truce. I was perfectly fine with the way we were operating before, but you came to me, practically begging me to play nice. What the fuck have I been doing?”

He’s looking at you like he expects an answer. You clench your fists at your sides. “Playing nice,” you say through gritted teeth.

“Better than you,” he adds, arms crossed over his chest. “I know you’re used to everyone letting you get away with whatever, but I’m not Kihyun, and I’m not Jeongguk. I don’t gain anything by letting you act like a brat.”

That makes you bristle. “Fuck you. I don’t have your stupid notebook, Yoongi. It may come as a shock to you, but I’m not interested in reading any more shitty lyrics about how much of a cunt you think I am.”

With that, you shove him out of your way once and for all. Blood rushes through your ears as you hurry down the stairs, almost running face-first into a wide-eyed Jimin in your haste.

Shit. You can only hope he didn’t hear any of that.

You run into Yoongi one more time, right before bed. Same as last night, you’re getting yourself a glass of water while he makes coffee. You move around each other in stony silence, both of you unwilling to acknowledge the other’s presence in the kitchen.

This time, though, you’re the one that leaves first. It feels a little like getting the last word.

Day Six

You spend the whole day in Teams meetings. You packed your schedule on purpose this time, disinterested in dealing with anyone that isn’t paid to kiss your ass.

You eat a power bar for lunch. At dinner, Jeongguk brings a plate upstairs for you. You claim that you’re too busy to come down, but really, you’re still licking your wounds after your run-in with Yoongi yesterday afternoon.

It seems stupid now, but you really thought things were getting a bit better between the two of you. Or, at least, you hoped so. You weren’t naive enough to think that Yoongi was starting to like you, but you did think that there was a mutual respect forming there.

Your mistake.

It’s late when you decide to venture downstairs. You’re restless, having spent the better part of an hour tossing and turning while Jeongguk snores from the other side of the room.

Late enough that you think, hope, that you’ll be able to avoid another run-in with Yoongi. Even if he’s still awake, there’s no way he’s making coffee at this hour. You held off for long enough.

When you reach the kitchen, you find that you’re half right. The coffee pot is nearly empty, but judging by the aroma, the pot wasn’t made all that long ago. Yoongi, however, is nowhere to be found.

On the kitchen counter sits a glass of water, and next to it, a scrap of paper. Blank, but unmistakably from Yoongi’s thought-to-be-missing notebook.

Huh. So he found it.

You take the glass upstairs with you, careful not to wake Jeongguk as you sneak back into the room. It’s only when you climb back into bed that your phone buzzes beside you. When you open it, you’re greeted by the sight of your still-unanswered penguin text, and a new message.

The Devil: 🏳️

Day Seven

When you venture into the living room in the morning, you’re surprised to find the whole band gathered around the seating area.

For the most part, the house has remained pretty quiet during the time you’ve been here. Today, though, it’s rowdy. You quickly find out why when you spot an unfamiliar fifth face—a handsome stranger with his arm slung around Yoongi’s shoulders.

A new bombshell has entered the villa.

The chattering stops as soon as you’re spotted. You don’t even get a chance to be properly introduced to the new houseguest before you’re intercepted by Jimin, who throws himself in front of you at the foot of the stairs.

“The inappropriately dressed goddess in silk shorts is Jeonggukie’s girlfriend, YN.”

“You may recognize her face from every Olive Young in Seoul,” Taehyung adds with amusement.

“YN, this is Yijeong.” Jimin turns around, pointing at you. You think you catch a twitch in his right eye. “Go get dressed. We have a busy day ahead of us.”

“Um… Okay,” you say, half-awake and confused.

Once you’re dressed less than half an hour later, you’re all piling into the van outside. The busy day, you find out, consists of a trip to the Little Prince citrus orchard—the trip that the band takes every time they’re in Jeju. You guess it was fast tracked due to Yijeong’s arrival.

In any other circumstance, you’d be thrilled at the prospect of spending your day picking tangerines, but the vibe seems off. Jimin looks like he’s about to vibrate out of his skin, and the glances you catch him sending Yoongi’s way chill you to the bone. You don’t know what Yoongi did to piss him off, but it seems like Jimin has officially cracked, and you don’t really want to get on his bad side by asking.

Still, you suck it up. There will be plenty of photo opportunities, you reason. Plus, the hallabong smoothie this place offers looks really fucking good.

Upon entry, you’re handed a small wicker basket and gloves for tangerine picking. At the very least, the weather is suitable for what Jimin has in store. It’s the kind of winter day that feels fresh and crisp, more than comfortable to walk around in as long as you have a jacket.

At first, the group breaks off into twos—Jimin and Taehyung, Yoongi and Yijeong, you and Jeongguk. You’re not exactly mad about the pairing, considering it means you’ll get to take those pictures for Seoyeon to post on your Instagram. Jeongguk is more than willing to indulge you, immediately tugging you close and snapping a selca with his cheek smushed against yours.

As your basket fills, though, you end up rotating through the group. Taehyung, dressed all in warm tones, buys you one of those smoothies you’ve been eyeing. Jimin snickers at you as you spike it with the flask you’ve had stashed in your purse, stealing a sip. Even Yijeong makes a point to walk with you for a bit, re-introducing himself politely.

“Sorry I didn’t get a chance to greet you properly earlier,” he says, sheepish. “It’s hard to get a word in with this group, sometimes.”

“So I’m learning,” you quip back easily, eyes scanning over the hanging hallabongs surrounding your path. “So, you’re here for the weekend, then?”

“Seems like it. Yoongi-yah called me down earlier this week. He wants a fresh pair of eyes for a song he’s working on.”

You scoff at that, unable to help yourself. “Like he doesn’t have three other pairs already?”

Yijeong gives you a sidelong glance, although it isn’t unkind. “He can be kind of secretive,” he explains, careful. “I think he just wanted the opinion of someone without a vested interest.”

You hum, unsure of how to respond. It makes sense, you guess.

“Am I wrong in assuming there’s a little bit of… tension there?” Yijeong continues. “Between you two.”

“We’re working on it,” you mumble, taking a much-needed sip of your smoothie. “Really. Chalk it up to incompatible personalities.”

“Ah.” Yijeong chuckles knowingly. “I get it. Yoongi-yah can be a little…”

“Bitchy?”

“Guarded,” he snorts. “But bitchy, too. I thought the same, when we first met. I was signed to the label about a year after Burn the Stage was. It took us a while to become as close as we are now.”

“You’re a musician?” you ask, interest piqued. You’ve never heard his name before, but granted, you don’t really keep track of that side of the industry anymore.

“Soloist,” Yijeong confirms, seemingly unoffended by your lack of recognition. “Producer, sometimes. I helped master their last album. I guess I impressed Yoongi, back then.”

“Teach me your ways,” you joke, earning another laugh from him.

“He’s not as hard to figure out as he likes to come off. It’s getting him to trust you, that's the hard part.”

Ah. Well. You’re kind of fucked in that department.

“Just give it time,” Yijeong says reassuringly. “If you’ve won the rest of them over, Yoongi will follow. He likes to play the part of the overprotective hyung, but he really is a nice guy when it comes down to it.”

“So I keep hearing. You two must be close, then.”

“Yoongi doesn’t have a lot of people to talk about his problems with. He’s way more interested in being a problem solver for others. But… everybody needs somebody.”

You grimace, stomach dropping at the thought of what kind of things Yoongi might have said about you, to this virtual stranger. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Yijeong.

“If it helps, he hasn’t had anything bad to say about you since I showed up,” he adds reassuringly.

“Meaning he hasn’t said anything about me at all?” you ask, hopeful.

“Mm. Well, he said you’re pretty… passionate,” Yijeong says, lips quirking up at the corners in a soft smile. “I’ve learned that’s a good thing, in Yoongi’s book.”

Or it’s code for crazy bitch. But hey, you’ll take what you can get.

“Sure,” you hum, glancing in Yoongi’s direction. He’s a little further ahead on the path, deep in conversation with Jimin. His face is as pale as the white flag he sent you. Uh oh. “We’ll see.”

As the two of you gain on Yoongi and Jimin, it seems like whatever confrontation that was being had is over with. Good, because you still don’t really want to know what that was about.

“You need the Vitamin C, hyung,” you overhear Jimin say as you and Yijeong approach. He bumps Yoongi’s shoulder conspiratorially. “I bought something for you.”

“What?” Yoongi narrows his eyes.

From behind his back, Jimin procures a hat—a fuzzy, bright orange tangerine hat, complete with a tiny green leaf on top. He looks thrilled.

Yoongi, however, does not.

“Absolutely not.”

“Absolutely yes.” Jimin is already shoving the hat onto Yoongi’s head before he can fight back, dodging his weak attempts to resist. “Cute,” he coos, stepping back to admire his work.

Yoongi glares, but to your amusement, doesn’t make any move to take it off.

Jimin, delighted, raises his phone. “Come on, let me get a picture—”

“No.”

“Just one! You’re already wearing the hat—”

“Park Jimin, do you want to die?”

Before you can register what’s happening, Jimin is full-on sprinting, chasing Yoongi around the orchard, phone camera wielded like a weapon. You can’t help but laugh. You’ve never seen Yoongi run, but just like his walk, there’s something penguin-esque there.

As Yoongi dashes past you, tangerine hat still firmly on his head, your gaze catches on something. His jeans—fitted just right, annoyingly so—have heart-shaped pockets.

You blink, looking away immediately. Definitely not something you needed to notice. Definitely not something you should be thinking about. But the image is burned into your mind, and unfortunately, Jimin notices the direction of your gaze and stops dead in his tracks.

“Wait,” he gasps, doubled over as he catches his breath. “Hyung, are those hearts on your back pockets?”

Shit.

Puzzled, Yoongi slows to a stop, frowning. “What? So what?”

Jimin, absolutely giddy, points. “Oh my god. Look at you, Mr. Soft and Romantic.”

“They’re just jeans,” Yoongi grumbles, but the slight pink at the tips of his ears says otherwise.

Jeongguk, watching the whole thing unfold, slides next to you where Yijeong had just stood. “You know, you’re going to give everyone the wrong idea, staring at Yoongi-hyung’s butt like that,” he murmurs, voice low so no one else can hear.

You shove him, hard, heat crawling up your neck despite yourself. “Yah, they’re cute jeans!” you hiss-whisper. “Maybe I want a pair for myself!”

He just grins, nudging your shoulder again. “Come on, pervert. We’re all going to dinner.”

★ ★ ★

When you make it back to the house, you can’t break off from the group fast enough. You don’t mean to be rude, but fuck. You need a minute to process the events of the day.

In an ideal world, said processing would be done with the assistance of your best friend. That’s what Yoongi and Yijeong do, right?

Once you make it inside the house, you make a beeline for the swing out back, phone already tucked between your ear and your shoulder as you slide the patio door open. It rings once, twice, before the call is declined altogether.

SuckJin: You’re joking right?

Right.

Too bad your best friend is a traitorous snake who prioritizes his medical career over being at your constant beck and call.

You: i need to talk to you!!!!!!!!!!!

SuckJin: Are you dying

You: no?????

SuckJin: Great

SuckJin: Nothing I can’t help with over text then

You: in case i don’t tell you enough, you are the fucking worst

You: just so you know

With a groan, you plop onto the swing, thumbs tapping wildly at your phone screen as you try your best to put words to what exactly you’re feeling right now. A task that proves impossible, since you’re not really sure yourself.

You: your worst mistake as my best friend is sitting idly by and allowing me to remain celibate since kihyun and i broke up. what’s happening right now is all your fault actually

You: because now that my JK-related feelings are waning i’m convinced i would fuck absolutely anyone in my current state. that HAS to be what’s going on because there is NO other explanation for my behavior these past few days

You: I CHECKED OUT MIN YOONGI’S ASS!!!!!!!!

SuckJin: LOL

SuckJin: How was it

Why does the universe hate you so? What could you have possibly done in your past life to deserve a best friend so devoid of empathy? You should’ve listened to your gut back in middle school, when it told you to steer clear of the weird, egotistical theatre kid with the bowl cut.

You: NOT the point you freak

SuckJin: What is in the air in Jeju lol

SuckJin: Maybe u two just need to bang it out

What the fuck!

You feel the heat flood your cheeks in an instant, indignantly typing what is sure to be a complete disembowelment of your best friend, but the sound of the sliding glass door opening stops you in your tracks.

It’s Yoongi. Of course it is.

Cigarettes in hand, he crosses the garden until he reaches the swing. Instead of joining you, though, he leans against one of the supports, holding the opened pack out to you in offering.

“No, thanks,” you cheep, stuffing your phone in the pocket of your sweatshirt as you will the flush in your cheeks to die. Seokjin deserves to be left on read for his crimes.

Yoongi shrugs, patting his pockets in search of a lighter. When he finds it, you watch the warm glow illuminate his face as he brings it to the end of his cigarette and inhales deeply.

You feel so far out of your depth here. It’s Yoongi’s house, Yoongi’s garden—even if you’ve staked your claim on this swing since the night you arrived, everything you’ve helped yourself to here belongs to him. Jeongguk included.

Yoongi is well within his rights to have a cigarette wherever he pleases. You just didn’t think he’d prefer to have one here, with you.

“You looked like you had fun today,” Yoongi says, the low hum of his voice effectively breaking you out of your thoughts.

“I did…” You shift positions on the swing restlessly, unfolding your legs and wincing as you stretch them out in front of you. “You looked like you had fun, too,” you offer.

“Mm.”

Talkative as ever, this guy. You guess it’s up to you to keep the conversation going.

“You looked goofy in that hat, though,” you add, your lips quirking up at the corners faster than you can stop it.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow at that. “Yeah? Maybe I should give it to you, then, dollface. You’re the model, after all.”

Dollface.

He keeps calling you that, doesn’t he? He called you that the first night you met. He must mean it as an insult, an implication that your looks are all you have going for you. That’s how it felt the first few times, at least.

Still, you can’t help but notice that this is the longest conversation you and Yoongi have had since your fight last week. You’re both being so shockingly peaceable, you can’t help but comment on it.

“So… I had fun, you had fun,” you mumble, lazily kicking your feet to push the swing back and forth. “Crazy concept that you and I can have fun in the presence of each other.”

“Crazy.”

“You can admit the truce was a good idea. It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone you were wrong.”

Yoongi’s eyes meet yours. For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, just takes a slow drag of his cigarette as he considers you. You shrink, pinned as his eyes scan over your face for so long it feels unbearable.

And then he’s moving, cigarette tumbling to the ground as his shoe stubs out the orange glow. Hands swiping ash off of denim. Your eyes track each movement against your will, until you shake yourself out of it and stare at your shoes instead.

“We’ll see.”

There’s the squeak of the sliding door, and then your only company is the smell of smoke and your phone buzzing in your pocket.

★ ★ ★

The finale to Yijeong’s impromptu weekend visit is a night of bar hopping. A night that ends at a local noraebang.

The room all of you inhabit is small but cozy, with plush seating surrounding a sleek table. Accent lighting on the walls glows neon, pulsing to the rhythm of the music. The large screen in the middle of the room is lit up with endless list of songs—some that you’re surprised to see in the repertoire.

Everyone picks off of a tray of drinks and snacks—crispy fries, fried chicken, soju shots, frothy beer—refueling after all of the alcohol you’ve downed tonight.

You’ve lost track of how many drinks you’ve had, but when Taehyung thrusts the microphone into your hands with a boxy grin, you don’t hesitate. It’s been a long time since you’ve been to a noraebang, but you can never go wrong with some Paramore.

The moment the opening chords of Ignorance blast through the speakers, something electric rushes through you. It’s instinct, really—the kind of song that demands to be sung like you mean it.

If I'm a bad person, you don't like me Well, I guess I'll make my own way It's a circle, a mean cycle I can't excite you anymore

Where's your gavel? Your jury? What's my offense this time? You're not a judge, but if you're gonna judge me Well, sentence me to another life

Like riding a fucking bike.

As soon as you open your mouth, Jimin and Taehyung immediately lose their minds, jumping onto the couch and headbanging along like he’s one of the fans at a concert for his own band. Jeongguk, beside him, stares in awe, boba eyes wider than you’ve ever seen them.

But it’s Yoongi you glance at between verses, though you’re not sure why. He’s leaning back against the couch, half-hidden in the dim lighting, watching. His expression is completely unreadable. You can’t look away.

This is the best thing that could have happened Any longer and I wouldn't have made it It's not a war, no, it's not a rapture I'm just a person, but you can't take it The same tricks that, that once fooled me They won't get you anywhere I'm not the same kid from your memory Well, now I can fend for myself

Don't wanna hear your sad songs I don't wanna feel your pain When you swear it's all my fault 'Cause you know we're not the same We're not the same Oh, we're not the same

By the time you hit the chorus, you’re all in—singing like you’ve got something to prove, like the song is a battle you refuse to lose.

It’s cathartic. It’s messy. It’s more fun than you’ve had in a long fucking time.

As the last note fades out, you’re fighting for breath, buzzing from the energy. The room erupts into cheers, and Jimin all but tackles you in excitement.

“Holy shit, YN,” he howls. “That was amazing. Again, again!”

Before you can protest, Jeongguk takes the mic from your hands and spins through the song queue. “Nah, it’s my turn,” he declares. “Does this thing have Linkin Park?”

When you manage to peel Jimin off of you, Yoongi’s gone.

You know that it shouldn’t bother you. You know that you should say good riddance, let him go do whatever is so important that he had to bolt like that. But for some reason completely beyond you, you just can’t.

Your feet start moving before your brain can catch up.

“I’ll be right back,” you say, but it falls on deaf ears anyway. Everybody is wasted, attention already diverted to queueing up the next song, and you slip out entirely unnoticed.

The alley behind the noraebang is dimly lit, the cool air hitting your skin like a slap. And there he is, leaning against the wall, cigarette between his lips. He notices you immediately, his gaze flickering to you in that lazy way of his.

“You left,” you say dumbly.

He lifts his cigarette in answer. “Need something?”

It’s a great question. Now that you’ve found him and you’re freezing your ass off, your lost sanity is quickly finding its way back to you. Why did you leave everybody inside to follow a person you hate?

“Just needed some air,” you lie, wrapping your arms around yourself. “Couldn’t breathe in there.”

Yoongi exhales slowly, smoke curling in the space between you, and you shift on your feet, shivering against the cold. If he notices, he doesn’t comment—just watches you with that unreadable expression, waiting.

You should go back inside. You should say something biting, roll your eyes, turn on your heel. But you don’t. Instead, you rub your hands along your arms, trying to warm yourself up, and Yoongi clicks his tongue.

“You’re shivering.”

Uh, yeah? It’s winter and you forgot your jacket inside. Of course you’re shivering.

“It’s freezing,” you mutter.

Yoongi sighs, long-suffering, then shrugs off his jacket. Before you can protest, he steps forward, draping it over your shoulders like it’s the most natural thing in the world. It smells like him—faint cologne and smoke, something a little sharp but not unpleasant.

You clutch at the lapels before you can stop yourself, blinking up at him. “You didn’t have to—”

“Yeah, yeah,” he cuts in, waving a hand dismissively as he leans back against the wall. “Just don’t make it weird.”

Right. Because this is totally normal behavior.

You huff, rolling your eyes, but the warmth is welcome, and you make no move to give the jacket back.

Yoongi glances at you sideways, smirking. “See? You do like it.”

Suddenly, the cold is forgotten. Like somehow, the cramped noraebang felt less stifling than standing here, out in the cold with Yoongi.

“Why’d you follow me out here, dollface?”

There it is again.

“You need to stop calling me that,” you snap, annoyed.

“Nah,” he hums. Your eyes are drawn to the orange glow as he flicks his cigarette, crushing embers into the ground with the toe of his boot. “I think you like that, too.”

What the fuck.

“I—”

“Answer the question,” he interrupts.

“Why did you leave?” you counter.

“Needed a smoke. Told you that already.”

It’s a solid alibi, but something in his tone tells you he’s not being completely honest. So, you pry.

“Left in a pretty big hurry, for a cigarette,” you goad.

Yoongi huffs, exasperated as he runs his fingers through his hair. “What do you want me to say? Clearly you have something in mind.”

All you do is glare at him in response. You’re out here, shivering to death instead of being inside with people that actually enjoy your company. The least he could do is not waste your time by being a fucking pussy.

It’s silent for a long moment, both of you waiting for the other to break. But then, Yoongi sighs.

“I didn’t know you could still sing like that,” he finally says, his voice a low murmur.

Wait.

“Still?” you ask, bewildered.

The corner of Yoongi’s mouth turns up in a lazy smirk. “What, you think I don’t know things about you? You should know better than that by now.”

“I was at your debut show,” he adds, his voice suddenly more earnest than you’ve ever heard it. “That voice was my first impression of you. Almost had me fooled.”

Infuriatingly, he doesn’t elaborate any further. “Fooled into what?” you ask, eyes narrowing. That wasn’t an attempt at a compliment, was it? There’s no way Min Yoongi is paying you a compliment right now.

“Into thinking you’re someone I might want to spend time with,” he replies, unwavering but still completely unclear.

You wish you could tell what he was thinking. What does he mean by that? That if you met under different circumstances…?

The tension is thick, suffocating. Your pulse thrums in your ears, drowning out everything else—the distant music, the buzz of electricity, the rational part of your brain telling you to walk away.

Yoongi just watches you, his expression unreadable, but there’s something different in his gaze now—something that makes your breath hitch. Eyes all pupil.

Against your will, your gaze drops to his lips. You wonder if he notices. You hope he doesn’t. Or maybe you hope he does.

You don’t know who moves first.

One second, you’re standing there, glaring at him in the cold; the next, his mouth is on yours, and you’re backing him into the wall. It’s messy, urgent—like neither of you expected this, but now that it’s happening, neither of you want to stop.

His hands find your waist, pulling you closer as your fingers curl into the front of his shirt. You’re dizzy, drunk off the way he kisses you, how he tastes like smoke and whiskey, how his tongue slips into your mouth like he owns it, the sensation of smooth metal on the roof of your mouth making you whimper.

And then—

Reality crashes back like a cold slap to the face.

You pull away, breathless, hands shaking as you take a stumbling step back.

“What the fuck,” you pant, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, like that’ll erase what just happened.

Yoongi doesn’t say anything, but he looks just as bewildered as you feel, his chest rising and falling just as fast as yours.

What the fuck. What the fuck did you just do?

Without another word, you turn on your heel and bolt, nearly tripping over yourself in your rush to get away. Your head is spinning, your heart hammering against your ribs and threatening to explode.

And Yoongi doesn’t make any move to stop you.

You leave everything. You don’t stop. You run, catch a cab, operating completely on instinct until suddenly, you’re in the bedroom, door shut behind you, hands pressed to your face like that’ll somehow ground you.

When you finally lower them, your lips are still tingling, Yoongi’s jacket still draped over your trembling shoulders.

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