#don’t take this as an ed being good for your hair because it usually isn’t

[zero-caloriememes3]

Okay but let’s talk about my hair glow-up though…

Left: me at 13

Right: me right now at 18

[lovebugism]

What about Eddie with shy!reader who still gets shy & flustered when he compliments/praises her even after being together for months now 🥺

hi love! this is such a sweet lil scenario! thanks sm for your request!! — the one where eddie is super good at making you feel pretty (but only because you make it so easy)

bug's summer fic fest ♡

“Does this look okay?” you ask for the hundredth time. Maybe millionth.

Eddie doesn’t shrug you off, though. He never does — not even when you’ve repeated the same question to him a thousand times.

The boy eyes your outfit like he’s really analyzing it, just like you wanted him to. In its fourth iteration, it looks only slightly different than the one before it, but he’ll take any opportunity to look at you that comes his way.

Most of the time, you can’t stand it when he stares at you for too long. Now he can do it all he wants because you’re asking him to. He feels a little like the luckiest guy on the planet.

“The skirt’s really pretty,” Eddie affirms with a nod. He’d argue that you’ve looked pretty in everything you’ve shown him, but he knows that’s not the answer you’re looking for. “I think I like it better than the jeans, actually.”

Even though you could wear almost anything and drive him insane, nothing beats seeing you in skirts. Something about your legs has always worked him wild — maybe because you keep them covered so often. 

It isn’t every day he gets to see you in these shorter bottoms. Those are only reserved for real special occasions. And, for some strange reason, you’ve decided that’s what Steve’s party is.

You look over your shoulder at the boy sprawled out on the edge of your bed. His wild hair and all black get-up looks much more jarring than usual against your baby pink comforter.

He’s dreadfully out of place in your girlish bedroom. You never want him to leave.

“You think so?” you wonder aloud, toying nervously with the hem of your white skater skirt. It’s not super short, stopping just below mid-thigh, but you’re nervous that it might be anyway.

Eddie scoffs like the answer’s obvious. “Totally. You look killer, babe. I’m gonna have to walk behind you all night to keep everyone from staring at you.”

Your nose scrunches at the crude compliment. Sometimes you wonder if Eddie thinks you’re prettier than you really are — like one of those funky carnival mirrors, but with the opposite effect. 

He’s under some sort of spell, you figure. He must be. 

You don’t deserve to be loved on as much as he loves on you.

“I’m being serious, Eds,” you argue halfheartedly as you turn back to the mirror. You tug at the bottom of your snug crop top when a sliver of your stomach starts to show.

The bed squeaks under his weight when he rises from his lounged position. He laughs and it sounds like sunshine. “I am being serious. You look amazing.”

“You always think I look amazing,” you murmur, flashing him a weak glare from beneath your lashes through the mirror. You’re not as annoyed as you seem. Embarrassed and a little undeserving, sure — but not annoyed.

“How’s that my fault?” Eddie scoffs with a chuckle. His chunky sneakers thud, thud, thud against your carpeted floor as he walks over to you. “If you didn’t look so pretty all the time, I wouldn’t have to compliment you, so… Checkmate.”

“Stop it…” you protest, mousy and only half-joking.

Eddie’s almost certain that none of his words ever get through to you. Every time he tells you something nice, you think he’s joking. He doesn’t know if it’s because he’s never been serious about anything in his life — other than you, of course — or if you don’t think you’re worthy of praise.

Maybe it’s a healthy mixture of both. 

It breaks his heart all the same.

Your back meets his chest when he stands behind you. His deep, musky cologne engulfs you like a fuzzy blanket. His ringed fingers are warm as they splay along your hips.

Even when he’s barely touching you, he makes you feel so held. 

“I mean it,” Eddie assures. His voice is soft, quiet, and serious — a stern sort of coo. His button-eyed gaze pierces your own as he stares at you in the mirror. He squeezes softly at your sides. “You look really pretty, babe. I think you should go with this one.”

Grateful that the attention is less on you and more on your outfit, you get less sheepish. “You don’t think it’s too much for a party?”

“No,” he answers with a curt shake of his wild head. “’S perfect. Honestly.”

You huff and lean back against him — not relaxed, exactly, just wanting to feel more of him. Eddie’s chin rests on your shoulder as your arms cross over your stomach. You look almost like you’re hugging yourself.

“Do you think they’ll like me?” you wonder, so quietly it sounds like a bunch of mumbles.

Eddie’s practically developed super-hearing after being with you for so long. 

He scoffs in response. “They’re gonna love you,” he promises, brows raised beneath his frizzy bangs. A pink smile tugs at his mouth. “Like, seriously. They’re gonna be obsessed with you. Henderson, especially. Him and Robin are gonna talk your ear off the whole night.”

You’re smiling before you realize it.

You love that he can imagine you so perfectly meshing with all the people he cares about. Your heart swells at the thought. You love fitting into his world.

“Really?”

“Really,” he nods with a scrunched nose. “And then I’m gonna have to share you with them and… You know what? Maybe this is a terrible idea.”

You exhale sharply through your nose in place of a laugh. You purse your lips to the side when you feel like you’re smiling too big. It takes over your whole mouth anyway.

Eddie watches your gaze duck towards the floor where his dirty sneakers stand alongside your shiny Mary Janes. He smiles at you like he’s just heard his favorite song on the radio — like he’s watching happiness incarnate and holding her in his hands.

“There it is,” he singsongs quietly. “I’ve been waiting to see you smile all night.”

Your face heats like a stove eye. You think you might actually burn him if he touched your cheeks just now.

“Stop,” you whine as if he’s hurt you in some way. You writhe in his arms to escape his grip, but he only holds you tighter.

“Sorry, babe,” Eddie apologizes, mostly insincere. He tucks his face into your shoulder and mumbles his words there. “You can’t escape me.”

He sprinkles tiny kisses on your neck. You raise your shoulders, not because you want him to stop, but because the softness of his touch tickles you there. You’d rather feel his lips against your own, anyway.

“You’re such a sap,” you tease as your head turns to peer up at him. The words leave your mouth so softly you might as well be telling him ‘I love you.’ In some ways, you are.

“I mean it, though,” he confesses. He seals his promise with a barely-there peck to the tip of your nose. His lips just barely brush your skin before he’s pulling away again. “You look pretty. Beautiful, even.”

You trap your smile between your teeth as you twist in his hold. Your arms stay pressed between your bodies while his arms embrace you wholly. “Beautiful, huh?” you echo with a sarcastic lilt.

“Uh-huh. Beautiful with a capital B.”

Despite how desperately you want to look away from his intent gaze — so full of love that they’re twinkling with it — you force yourself to keep his stare. “Well, I think you’re Beautiful with a capital B, too, Eds…”

Eddie beams at you, taking your compliment in stride. You wish you could do that, too.

“Thank you, baby,” he hums before smacking a kiss to your waiting mouth. He tastes like nicotine and spearmint and strawberry chapstick.

It’s over far quicker than you’d like it to be. He doesn’t seem as grieved by it as you do.

“Alright, babe. Let’s go,” he announces with a boyish grin when he parts from you. You smile as he heads out of your bedroom, picking up the purse on your desk as he goes. He knew you’d forget it otherwise. 

His voice comes muffled from the hallway, “Your chariot awaits!” 

[bettysupremacy]

omg what abt steve getting a crush on this more rebel, punk-like reader? usually sees her with a guitar or smoking out back somewhere, but he’s worried that he’s not “cool enough” to talk to her

maybe she comes in at the family video to rent a horror movie or something and he finally tries to start a conversation

ajdkdk sorry hope this isn’t too specific, have a great day!!!

hi aster!! thank you for the request it’s adorbs

Robin sits under the counter of family video sorting return movies into boxes.

It’s a perfectly tedious task that she doesn’t mind doing. In fact, she usually fights for it, leaving Steve to take her assortments and shelve them. Except today he forfeits his duties, opting to stand and complain. Loudly.

It’s not that Robins over it, but she’s over it.

“You don’t get it, Robs.” Steve eyes the front door morosely. “She’s so cool. She plays guitar.”

Robin laughs loudly, pulling Gremlins out of the kids box and into the horror box. “So do like, a gillion people, Steve.”

“But she’s good at at.”

Robin shrugs. He got her there.

“And she likes that one band.”

She nods. “Thank you for that.”

“You know which one I’m talking about.”

“Because you gave me so much to work with.”

He glares down, but she doesn’t see. “Long hair?”

“Kiss?”

“Long hair, no face paint.” He adds.

“Iron Maiden? Van Halen? Dokken? Metallica?”

“Metallica!” He nudges her with his foot excitedly.

“Well she likes all those bands.” She shrugs, kicking the loaded romance box away.

His head shakes. “Eddie got his grubby little hands on her.”

“Eddie is her brother, and liking the same bands as your sibling is normal.”

“Still.” He sighs.

His inability to talk to you haunts him. A painful reminder that he’s no longer king Steve.

The door chimes.

“Who is it?” Robin asks.

Steve kicks her, she punches him.

You walk in, destination in mind. He watches silently as you move to the horror section, smiling as he sees you mouth your ABC’s to find Friday the 13th.

You look exceptionally pretty today, he thinks. Black band tee, black skirt, black headband, you look like you’ve shopped in Eddie’s closet. Not that he’s complaining.

You hop up to the counter.

“That was quick.” Steve smiles as he scans the bar code with the little red light. He drops it to the counter when it beeps, typing into the new computer Keith ordered a week ago. “Friday the 13th?”

“Uh huh.” You smile. His knees buckle.

“It’s a great movie, you’ll love it.”

“I don’t know,” Your finger traces the wood countertop. “I’m easily spooked.”

He looks away from the computer, waiting for the receipt to print. “You watching it alone?”

“No,” You laugh. “Definitely not.”

“Oh,” He deflates. “With you’re boyfriend?”

Robin pinches his calf, he resists the urge to kick her again.

You laugh a little louder, a little sweeter. Steve finds the contrast of your look and the sound dizzying. “No, Steve, my brother.”

“Right.” His soft laugh is an air of relief. You roll your eyes, smile plastered onto your face you fear permanently.

“Yeah, Ed’s really tears up these horrors.”

“You look like you would too.” He puts the receipt in your bag. Dropping it to the counter with a soft thud.

“What does that mean?” Your head cocks.

“No I just.. you know- like..”

You laugh, and even though it’s at Steve’s expense, he hopes it’ll happen again. “I was kidding, Steve.”

“Oh,” he breathes, smile playing on his lips. He looks down at the counter. “That was mean.”

Your eyes crinkle. “I’m sorry”

“You don’t look too sorry.” He laughs, a little breathless.

“What can I do to apologize?”

His smile stutters. “Oh, you don’t have to do that.”

You look around the store and his mind wanders places he feels guilty for. “You wanna come watch it with us?”

You kick the wall softly, nervously. Robin can feel it.

“What?” This isn’t real.

“Yeah, come over tonight. We make popcorn, and he’s buying candy right now.” You search for his eyes now. “Please say yes it’s the least I could do for being so mean.”

“I don’t know.” He hands brace against the wooden counters, a gentle reminder that this is real. Like Robins pinch. “..Eddie would be okay with it?”

“You’re already friends with him, it’ll be perfect.” You grab your bag from the counter, the plastic loud as you wind it around your hand. “And then I’ll have someone to protect me.”

He hears Robin breathe out and dares a look under the counter. She’s grinning like a madman.

You don’t give him room to object, walking to the door and turning around when you hear the chime. “See you tonight. Bye Robin!”

Faint giggles are heard under the counter. Steve feels sick.

And then you walk out. Steve’s heart dragged along behind you.

Robin hops out of the counter. “You got a date, Steve!”

His shoulders droop. “With Eddie.”

“So what?” She claps his back “I doubt he’ll actually be there.”

“Yeah.” He breathes, “It’ll be fine.”

Robin nods once, walking into the back room. “And I’ve finished sorting. Have fun!”

[estrellami-1]

Soft Touch Baby

Part 1 | Eddie’s POV | Song | ao3

This is the song as mentioned in Pt 12 and Pt 13… literally only @madigoround asked for it but! They asked for it! And they shall receive it. ❤️ song is “Far Away” by Nickelback.

“Eds?”

Eddie hums, looking up from his notebook. “What’s up, sweetheart?”

Steve blushes at the nickname, like he does every time. Eddie smiles, like he does every time. “D’you remember the first night I came over?”

Eddie blinks, frowning some. “When you almost called?” Steve nods. “Yeah. What about it?”

“Remember you worked on a song?”

“I… think so?” He screws up his face in concentration. “I’ve got, like, six songs going all the time, but yeah, I think I remember.”

Steve bites his lip. Nods. Takes a breath, decides to be brave. “Can I hear it?”

“Oh.” Eddie’s staring at him, wide-eyed, then must see in Steve’s face that he’s about to take it back, because he smiles. “Yeah, of course, just, uh.” He chuckles, blushes, pulls his hair in front of his face for a moment. “It’s, uh. Not the kind of thing I usually write. At all, actually. It’s, uh…” he huffs out a laugh. “God. Okay. Uh.” He shakes his head.

Steve frowns. “Eds, you don’t have to show me if you don’t want to.”

“I do! I swear! It’s just…” he groans, tips backwards onto the bed, covers his face with his hands. “It’s maybe… possibly… about you. And… not. At the same time. Us? And the whole, uh, situation? Thing? And also maybe it’s me projecting about the future?”

“Eddie.” Full name. Serious. But not legal name; he’s not in trouble. “You don’t have to show me if you don’t want to. But if you do want to, I’d love to hear it.” He shrugs. “It was just me being nosy anyways.”

“I… fuck. Yeah. Okay. I do, I swear, lemme find… guitar, pick, notebook, where the fuck-”

“Your desk is a mess,” Steve says by way of answer, nodding over to it with a smile. “Under the calendar.”

“You’re an angel,” he tells Steve seriously. Steve blushes. Again.

He grabs the guitar, ensures it’s tuned, and begins with a C-chord.

It’s slower than anything he’s done, a simple up-and-down strum, and he’s not sliding his fingers along the frets, making the guitar sing. It’s accompanying him instead, he’s not fighting it, and it’s… nice. It’s really nice.

It feels like a song Steve would hear on the radio and instantly want to listen to a hundred more times.

Then Eddie starts singing, and, well… it’s a good thing they’re already dating.

This time, this place / Misused, mistakes / Too long, too late / Who was I to make you wait?

Steve is instantly transported back to the Upside Down, when they were fighting for their lives. They didn’t have time to make mistakes; didn’t know how to do anything different. Too late.

Just one chance, just one breath / Just in case there's just one left / 'Cause you know, you know, you know

Steve’s breath hitches. He’s vaguely aware of tears on his face, his mind replaying the moment he dropped down beside Eddie, started administering CPR, muttering “you don’t get to do this, c’mon, Munson, take a breath, just one breath, c’mon.”

That I love you / I have loved you all along / And I miss you / Been far away, for far too long

Oh. Steve’s world screeches to a stop, and all that matters is the lines Eddie just sang. I love you.

I keep dreaming you'll be with me / And you'll never go / Stop breathing if I don't see you anymore

And, fuck, that’s it, isn’t it? That’s the codependent shit they’ve got going on right now, their dreams involve each other, then waking up and feeling like suffocating because no one’s there-

On my knees, I'll ask / Last chance for one last dance / 'Cause with you; I'd withstand / All of hell to hold your hand

“Christ,” Steve mutters, hunting around for a tissue.

Eddie stops. “Baby?”

“Don’t fucking baby me,” Steve gripes, overwhelmed. “Fuck. I love you. So much. Finish the song. Please.”

Eddie’s breath hitches. He finishes the song.

I'd give it all; I'd give for us / Give anything, but I won't give up / 'Cause you know, you know, you know

“Fuck,” Steve mutters again, giggling through his tears. I won’t give up.

That I love you / I have loved you all along / And I miss you / Been far away, for far too long

Steve sings along this time, best he can, staring directly at Eddie as he does so. Eddie’s eyes are shiny.

I keep dreaming you'll be with me / And you'll never go / Stop breathing if I don't see you anymore

Maybe they’re too codependent. Who gives a fuck. They made it.

So far away, so far away / Been far away, for far too long / So far away, so far away / Been far away, for far too long

Not anymore, Steve thinks fiercely. Not ever again.

But you know, you know, you know / I wanted, I'd wanted you to stay /'Cause I needed / I need to hear you say

Always, Steve thinks, knowing the next lines. Always. I’ll always say it.

That I love you / I have loved you all along / And I forgive you / For being away, for far too long

He sings again, and Eddie’s breath hitches again, and he has to pause and giggle, wiping his nose.

So keep breathing / 'Cause I'm not leaving you anymore / Believe it / Hold on to me and never let me go

“Jesus fuck,” Steve says passionately. “I love you so goddamn much.”

Eddie smiles shakily. “Can I baby you now?”

Steve laughs, wipes at his face. “Always, yes, Jesus.”

“Baby,” Eddie whispers, and suddenly they’re both clinging to each other.

Steve whispers, “I hate you.”

Eddie whispers back, “I love you too.”

Once again, this is a just-in-case taglist:

@thegingervulcan @snapshotmaestro @the-redthread @tiny-enthusiast @thatonepotatochild @maya-custodios-dionach @imsociallyanxiousgetoverit @vhelt @newtstabber @huskysarelife @singmeyoursimpsong @gaysonthefloor @darkwitchoferie @vi-an-te @kato-hoeven @biatcgh @vampireinthesun @goodolefashionedloverboi @awesomeimportantfan @oreos-ate-my-balls @theotalksalot @raysreads

[superstringtheory]

Sicktember 2023- "talentless", OFMD Ed/Stede

Sicktember 2023- prompt #7 “you’re a jerk when you’re sick” 

Ed’s not good at being sick. 

He’s not good at any of this, really, but for some reason a bunch of people decided that his flag was scary or whatever and at this point will pretty much fall all over themselves giving him all of their shit. 

Well, and of course there’s Izzy, who’s still mad at him, but who’d kill half the people in the Caribbean in the name of Blackbeard if Ed asked him to. 

Izzy, who’d recently come back from a covert little operation all congested and wet leather, hoarse voice even rougher than usual. 

Izzy’s fault, then, for sharing more than just intel. 

Ed sniffles, and then stops midway through wiping his nose on his sleeve when Stede comes into the bedroom from the auxiliary closet, looking radiant and healthful in a lavender coat. 

“Sweetheart,” Stede says. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look like shit.” 

Ed gives him the most nonplussed look. 

“And hearing that makes me feel even better,” he says, and clears his throat. 

“Do you want anything?” Stede asks. 

“Nope,” Ed says, popping the ‘p.’ “I can take care of myself. Did just fine before you got here, and I seem to recall that when you got here, you were the one needed caretaking.” He clears his throat again, looking away when Stede shoots him a knowing look. 

“Well,” Ed says, standing from where he’d been sitting on the edge of the bed. “Time to go check on the crew.” 

“Isn’t it storming?” Stede asks. 

“All the better reason to check on them.” 

“There’s no way you’d want to stay down here? I’m sure they’re doing fine.” 

“It’s mostly your crew, Stede,” Ed says in a patronizing tone, which is only ruined a little bit by sniffling. “They’re better at arts and crafts than sailing.” 

“Fine,” Stede says. “Enjoy your pneumonia.” 

Stede does regret saying that, later. 

*** 

Ed’s not good at being sick. 

It’s drippy and it’s achy and he can’t find the words for how to make it better. Everything he says comes out of his mouth harsh, barbed, a stick sharpened at both ends. Stede had been right; it is storming, but even so he’d appeared on deck about twenty minutes after Ed, seemingly not concerned about getting his new lavender outfit wet. 

“How’s it going up here?” Stede says in a bright tone, and Ed can almost hear the eye-roll that Jim gives. Ed feels about the same, except worse because there’s something with claws in his throat. 

“Boss’s all wet,” Izzy growls, and Stede lifts a blonde eyebrow. It’s incredibly stupid how good his hair looks when it’s rain-dampened, curling more at the edges, haloing his face. 

Ed sniffs, trying to surreptitiously wipe his nose. 

“Gotta go check on something belowdeck,” he manages, after Stede looks like he’s going to step forward and shove a handkerchief into Ed’s face or something equally embarrassing. Ed doesn’t wait or attempt any further explanation- by the time he’s down the stairs, he has to stop and lean back against the wall for a moment. 

Izzy’d been right- he is all wet, and he feels chilled to the bone, still achy and out-of-sorts. Ed coughs, then swears as he hears the distinctive sound of Stede’s heeled shoes coming down the stairs. 

“Sweetheart?” Stede’s voice calls, and Ed forces himself to straighten up. “Are you sure you didn’t want to head back to our quarters?” 

He actually does have a handkerchief in his hand now, and he’s moving towards Ed with it with that little creased forehead look he gets whenever Ed tells what he’d thought was a funny story about being an adolescent on Hornigold’s ship that actually sounds pretty fucked up once he hears it again. 

“M’fine,” Ed says, hating the way his voice goes all raspy. “Just gonna check on our stores.” 

Stede’s gently taking him by the elbow now, still with that concerned expression. 

“That’s not your job, love, I’m sure it’s all taken care of.” 

Ed twists away, out of Stede’s grasp. 

“Everything on this ship is my job. I’m the captain, aren’t I?” 

Maybe that would’ve come out better if he hadn’t had to cough afterwards, but he’s sure that Stede gets the point. 

Ed glares at Stede for a long moment, and then Stede takes a step back. 

“Noted,” he says, and even though Ed had pushed him away, now that Stede’s leaving, Stede is all Ed wants. 

*** 

There isn’t really anything to do in the store room, but Ed spends too much time in there anyway, feeling worse and worse. He can’t seem to get warm, and his throat feels like it’s on fire, and not the fun kind of fire like when he and Stede had set that ship of rich idiots ablaze. 

He falls into a kind of doze, too stubborn to simply creep back to the cabin and crawl under the covers. Stede probably hates him now. 

Just thinking of Stede brings a kind of visual miasma of him, a hazy version of his lavender coat. And an auditory hallucination, too- the sound of Stede’s heeled shoes, stepping even closer. And– oh, it’s actually Stede. 

Ed wants to apologize, wants to tell Stede that he hadn’t meant it, that he’s just sick and miserable and his throat hurts and his head hurts and– 

All that comes out is a small whining sound, raspy and painful. 

“Oh, sweetheart.” Stede’s voice is soft and warm. His eyes are gentle, and suddenly Stede’s bent over and Ed’s burrowing himself into Stede’s neck, stifling a cough into Stede’s chest.

Ed starts to say something but has to keep coughing, and Stede just tsks at him and presses his lovely cool hand against Ed’s neck. 

“Let’s get you back into bed, hmm?” Stede’s saying, and then he’s pulling Ed up to a stand, supporting him as they make their way back to the cabin. “Get you in bed and get you cooled down.” 

Stede’s strong arm around his waist, his hand on Ed’s forehead, the crinkle of concern in Stede’s gaze- it all speaks to what’s coming next: the tepid bath, the cold cloths for Ed’s head, the tinctures of honey and rum. Throughout it all, Stede there by his side, murmuring and fussing. 

Ed’s still not good at being sick, but Stede is wonderful at taking care of him. 

[sammeth]

WARNING: sub!eddie munson + piss kink and CNC! (Little bit of humiliation kink too).

I know that the piss kink fandom is small, but, think about eddie squirming and moving around on the couch because he’s gotta pee but he doesn’t wanna stop watching the movie. you put it on for background noise, but it’s still one of his favorites. now’s the time, you decide, to initiate something you two talked about doing for a little while. cnc is one of his borderline favorite kinks, but you’ve never played it out to the extent that he asked for last night. it’s time to give him what he wants, and you probably want it just as bad, too.

“eds?” he only glances at you as you say the nickname, humming softly in response. he tightens his legs together, crossing them over the other, and rubs his sweaty hands against his jeans. he’s been squirming for a while now. he’s all worked up and antsy. “sit still for me, buddy.” you tell him, staring him down from across the couch. this gets his attention, but only slightly. you’re usually pretty controlling anyway. this isn’t very new for him.

“sure, sure,” he goes back to watching the movie like nothing happened, trying his best not to fidget or move around in his seat anymore. you can’t help it, you have to sneak a peak down at his jeans. your eyes make it halfway down, stopping at the spot on his tummy where his bladder is bulging slightly because of how full it is, and your eyes go dark.

getting up from your seat slowly, you crouch down below him and get on your knees for him. he looks at you in confusion. “baby?” he asks, chuckling a little. “sure, but I gotta piss first, ‘kay?” he asks, starting to get up from the seat. you push him back down.

“nuh-uh,” your hands fly to his jeans and undo his belt, yanking it off of him so fast it would’ve given him a burn if it had been against his skin. he jumps at the feeling and his eyes go wide. “sit still,” you remind him, eyes narrowing.

“sweetheart…” he warns, squirming a little once again. “i don’t wanna…y’know,” he gets a little embarrassed and avoids your eyes. “I’ve really gotta go this time. i can’t hold it.” you’ve played around with piss control before, but you’ve never gotten any on you. that’s what he’s insinuating; he can’t play right now. he can’t hold it.

“don’t want you to,” you spit back at him, undoing his jeans so harshly that he loses control for a second and the front of his jeans goes a little darker. he gasps at the feeling and quickly stops the stream, making you smirk. “hold it for me. can’t go until I say so, got it?” he just nods in return, biting at his nails with an innocent look on his face. he’s getting embarrassed. “color?” you ask, using the system.

“green,” he breathes out, smiling to break character and let you know that he’s really good. you nod and yank his jeans and underwear down. he presses his thighs together as hard as he can and tries to stop his hardening cock from leaking all over the place. he takes deep breaths, making you smirk again and lean down to drag your tongue along his length, taking his tip into your mouth. “you’re being mean!” he gasps and you can feel him tense up even more, gripping the couch cushions.

for a second, you think that he’s already cumming because you feel something warm and salty slide down your throat. he instantly looks embarrassed again.

“I’m sorry!” he shouts, pulling you off of him. “I didn’t mean to—“ he’s interrupted by you taking him back into your mouth, sliding all the way down until your nose is buried into the soft brown hair covering his abdomen and jean line. he practically fucking screams, his head hitting the back of the couch so hard you think he’s concussed. after the throat-ripping shriek, he’s gasping for breath and fucking his hips desperately up into your mouth.

it’s not that bad actually, the taste of piss. you grip his inner thighs and let him fuck your mouth, taking him as best as you can because you’re also desperate for him to cum all over you. you’re looking up at him the entire time. the whining, screaming, gasping mess that he is.

“fuck! oh, fuck!” he goes cross-eyed. his eyes flutter shut and his mouth hangs open as you feel the mixture of piss and cum sliding down your throat. you slide all the way down on his cock and swallow hard, taking everything that you can. tears well up in your eyes, you can’t breathe, but it doesn’t matter. “god…fuh-feels so fucking good!” he’s shaking underneath you. long after he’s done cumming, he’s still emptying his bladder down your throat. you gratefully swallow every little bit of it, only coming off of him once your tummy is full and he’s done.

“good job, baby,” he whines at the praise, legs still shaking, and holds his arms out for you.

the movie comes to an end in the background and you feel your bladder tightening a little, letting you know that the time’s coming around soon. you sigh.

[schrijverr]

The Strange Arrival of Colonel Curtis 1

Chapter 1 out of 5

Ed gets send to do an undercover mission where he is pretending to be Colonel Curtis to catch a terrorist ring. In doing so, he has to be suspicious and get involved with some shady people, which is noticed by his unit.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: none

~~~~

Chapter 1: The Arrival

There is a new Colonel coming to West City and it’s the talk of the command. Apparently whoever it was, is young, up and coming, and made a big name for himself when he helped in fending off the coup of Central Command back in 1915.

Not only that, but his arrival is preceded of a dismissal of one of their Colonels. Usually new promotions come in, because the former holders of the positions are moving up the ranks or retiring, a dismissal is unusual.

It’s speculated that the former Colonel, Freedman, was discovered to have an affair with the daughter of the General, while others claim there were more nefarious things at play and he’s headed for execution. There are also rumors about him being an alcoholic, not doing his work well or stealing military supplies.

Jack doesn’t listen to any of these rumors. Colonel Freedman was their unit leader and he was a good man. His dismissal is coming out of nowhere and they all agree that whatever the reason may have been, it was probably unfounded.

However, that doesn’t mean it hasn’t happened and there isn’t a new Colonel coming to lead their unit.

About the new Colonel are also a lot of rumors. He’s a rookie, he’s incompetent, he’s so competent the brass is scared of him, he’s only here due to nepotism, he’s secretly a spy for Drachma, and so on and so forth. From what Jack has heard this guy either invented stupidity or intelligence and no one can seem to agree.

Though the most prominent rumor seems to be that he blackmailed Colonel Freedman into giving him his position, that the new guy is as ambitious as they come, eager to climb the ranks and uncaring about who has to step on. It’s said that he might be Lieutenant General Mustang’s secret apprentice (or love child, depending on who you ask).

Jack doesn’t know what to expect from the new Colonel, but he knows the whole unit has been haunted by nerves these past few days as they wait for his arrival.

He is pondering what the man might be like when he is intercepted by Master Sargent Mike Scherper, who quickly salutes. Once Jack has saluted back, the young officer reports: “He’s coming today, sir. Heard his train arrived this morning.”

“Thank you, Sargent,” Jack nods, before adding with amusement: “I’m sure the entire office knows already?”

Scherper blushes a bit and doesn’t meet his eyes as he confesses: “Maybe.”

“It’s alright,” Jack smiles, before opening the door and dismissing the salutes of the unit, before taking his place in front of them and saying: “I know you all heard sorts of rumors, but don’t let it cloud you judgment. We’ll welcome him with a clean slate.”

A few ‘yes, sir’s and ‘okay’s come back and even though it doesn’t feel all that genuine from everyone, it is the best Jack could hope for.

Half an hour later and the time is officially there. The door swings open with a flourish to reveal a short guy with long blond hair tied up in a bun according to regulations. Without meaning to, Jack can’t help but think that that will certainly put the Mustang’s lovechild rumors to rest. Beyond that, he is wearing the military outfit completely done up properly, Colonel stars on the shoulder.

Immediately the entire unit gets to their feet to salute what has to be their new commanding officer, only relaxing their arms once they’ve been saluted back.

Seemingly satisfied with the reaction, he begins: “Hello, I am Colonel Edmund Curtis and I am going to be in charge here from now on. I expect all of you to work hard and be dedicated to your jobs. We are going to be effective and efficient. You will hand in your reports on time with legible handwriting and no complaining. If I hear of any of you being rude and tarnishing this unit’s name, you’ll deal with me personally. Am I understood?”

“Yes, sir,” they all quickly chorus, realizing their new commanding officer is stricter than their last one.

“Good,” Colonel Curtis nods, seemingly satisfied with their reaction. “Now, who’s the First Lieutenant. Report,” he dismisses the rest, as he starts walking towards his office.

Quickly Jack follows after, snapping to attention in front of the desk and saluting again as he says: “First Lieutenant Jack Speltz, reporting, sir.”

“Ah, perfect,” Colonel Curtis smiles, though Jack can’t find it within himself to find it pleasant. “Bring me up to speed,” their new Colonel orders.

“There is nothing urgent at the moment, sir,” Jack says. “Supplies need to be looked over and there is a bunch of paperwork and mail that piled up in between shifting of command, sir.”

Colonel Curtis is silent for a second, then nods with determination. “Alright, thank you. Bring everything to my desk and we’ll get started.”

And so their life under their new commanding officer starts.

Once he’s gotten Colonel Curtis his paperwork, he goes to sit at his desk again, where he is immediately ambushed by the curious gazes of the others. In turn he just raises a brow at them. They’ve been working together long enough for the others to know that Jack is a professional, who doesn’t believe in office gossip or talking behind backs.

“Oh, come on, Jack, give us something” Second Lieutenant Rachel Mann whines. She’s one of his oldest friends and knows that he does believe in honest reviews of people.

With as much neutrality as he has, Jack replies: “He seemed eager to get to work to get caught up on back logs. I suggest you all do the same.”

That earns him a few groans, but when it becomes clear that Jack isn’t going to add anything more to the statement, they begrudgingly get back to their own work.

Over the following days the unit gets to know Colonel Curtis a little bit more, discovering that he is indeed the rookie some rumors made him out to be. His youthful appearance had kind of given that tidbit away upon his arrival, but it’s also in the little things.

Jack goes in to deliver some paperwork, but before he can knock, he hears some grumbling from behind the door. Jack normally doesn’t listen in, but he can’t deny that he’s a little curious about this man who replaced Colonel Freedman.

So, he pauses and hears the young office mumble to himself: “What was the fucking form again? Why are there so many goddamn different forms. I’m going to murder that General, bastard.” Or at least, that’s what Jack thinks he said, he doesn’t think the Colonel would call any higher ranking officer a bastard, just that it had been a broad curse at the situation.

Not wanting to embarrass the newbie Colonel, Jack waits a second so that he can compose himself, after he knocks.

“Come in,” comes through the door and Jack enters to find Colonel Curtis brushing a strand out of his hair, looking a little flushed and disheveled, his desk a mess.

“More paperwork, sir,” Jack explains, holding up the stack in his arms.

He takes no joy in how Colonel Curtis’s face drops a little at that revelation, it is a familiar look that earns him Jack’s sympathy. Though, the look isn’t there long and a part of Jack admires the determination that appears instead as Colonel Curtis takes the stack with a brisk: “Thank you, Lieutenant.”

“Of course, sir,” Jack salutes, before turning on his heel to leave the office. However, a voice stops him right as he’s about to leave, calling out his name. He turns back and inquires: “Sir?”

Colonel Curtis looks a bit embarrassed and his voice is less confident than it usually is as he asks him: “You wouldn’t happen to know what form I would need if I wanted to ask for stuff for in the office, would you?”

“A supply request to the Quarter Master, sir. Should I get you a blank one?” Jack replies, allowing no judgment or laughter to shine through in his voice. He’s a professional and it’s clear the Colonel doesn’t want any extra attention on his not knowing.

“That would be appreciated, thank you, Lieutenant,” Colonel Curtis dismisses him.

However, Colonel Curtis is not just a rookie, they discover. That determined gleam in his eyes that Jack had seen during their interactions shines through in many of the Colonel’s actions.

He is eager to volunteer his unit for missions and often stays behind late to catch up on work and ensure everything is done properly.

Beyond that, he has rules in the office that must be followed and he is strict about them, though not cruel. Which they discover about two weeks into his leadership after all of them have become more comfortable with each other’s presence.

Colonel Curtis had been summoned to a meeting, which means they all take a second to slack. It’s not that the Colonel’s presence is constricting or anything, he’s just a higher up and his eyes can get intense sometimes. They’re happy when the door’s closed.

“I miss Freedman,” Rachel complains. She has always been a joker and Colonel Freedman was often amused with her antics, under the new strict rule, she hadn’t been able to let loose in weeks, none of them have.

“Same, I wonder why he never told us why he was dismissed,” Scherper says. He is always steeped in gossip, but the only gossip going around about it is horse shit and they know it. They just wonder why their old commander didn’t trust them with the real reason.

“I’m sure there’s a reason. We’ll find out in due time,” Second Lieutenant Linda Ridlon tells them, before turning back to her work.

Rachel, however, isn’t done with the conversation and leans back in her chair, throwing her feet up onto her desk as she speculates: “Maybe he’s been drafted for a secret mission of some sort.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Scherper says, “Freedman hated field work.”

“Yeah, he’d shove it onto one of us,” Warrant Officer Thomas Wagner pipes up as well, abandoning his work in favor of the discussion and undoing a few of his uniform buttons where they dig into his muscled form.

“But you know Freedman never knows how to say no. If a General asked, he’d go,” Rachel protests.

Before anyone can reply to her, the door opens again to reveal Colonel Curtis and they all quickly scramble to look presentable, but it’s quite too late.

The Colonel had assured them they don’t need to salute every time he passes by their desks, but some can’t help but do it now to save face after appearing so unprofessional. Rachel has quickly removed her feet from the desk and sprung to her feet, while Tommy tries to do his buttons up with one hand, while saluting with the other.

If Jack were honest, he’d say Colonel Curtis seems amused by their mad dash, though that look disappears before he can be sure.

Instead there is a stern look on Colonel Curtis’s face as he asks Rachel: “Is there a reason your legs are on the desk, Second Lieutenant Mann? Medical conditions making it more comfortable?”

“Uhm, no, sir, I was just taking a break, sir,” Rachel stammers, looking to the ground. It’s weird to see her usual confidence melt in front of the younger officer.

“Then please refrain from doing so. We have an image to maintain. This is a professional setting, imagine if I had been an inspection,” Colonel Curtis informs her.

“I won’t do it again, sir. I’m sorry, sir,” Rachel says.

“Good,” Colonel Curtis nods, before turning to Tommy. “And you, Warrant Officer Wagner, any reason your uniform is undone?”

“Uhm, I- it- it digs in a little, sir, I was taking a breather,” Tommy confesses, looking like he wants to be swallowed by the ground the second he does.

“Hm,” Colonel Curtis inspects him for a second, then says: “See to it that you get a better fitting uniform, until then I’ll make an exception. Note that this is an exception and not the rule. If there are any discomforts, notify me and seek accommodation, before becoming unprofessional.”

“Yes, sir,” they all quickly say.

Satisfied with the response, Colonel Curtis retreats back into his office, leaving a confused unit behind him as he goes.

They all share a look. It is unexpectedly nice from the stern Colonel, though Jack remembers the last bit of the sentence too. Colonel Curtis does not want them to look unprofessional, he reminded them of how he could have been an inspection, fully aware that they reflect back onto him.

Jack himself is an avid believer in professionalism. He likes keeping his life separate from work and maintaining some sort of decorum. However, Colonel Curtis takes this to a whole new level and purely for his own gain as well.

There is an air around him that screams that he is desperate to prove himself, Jack thinks. He is new and inexperienced and hopes his professionalism will hide it as he climbs higher and higher. Not the optimal higher up to have, but better than some cruel commanders Jack has heard about.

Though, Jack does wonder what the rumor mill will make of this driven, ambitious, young man, who wants to make a name for himself and seems to be willing to step on those below them to get there…

~~

A/N:

I know Ed (because yeah, you guessed it, Colonel Curtis is Ed) is very out of character, but that is exactly the point of this chapter and more will be revealed next time ;p (I say mysteriously like the summary doesn’t give it away already)

[careol]

@sunomaly

               it   was   silly,   but   it   also   wasn’t.      it   was   completely   normal,   especially   with   how   beauty   standards   were   this   day   and   age.      to   want   to   look   like   the   models   you   see   on   television   or   in   magazines,   it’s   not   uncommon.      even   carol   sometimes   found   herself   wishing   certain   things,   though   mostly   it   had   to   do   with   her   hair.      she   liked   the   pixie   cut   now,   but   back   when   she   first   got   it   it   was   a   way   to   stay   safe.      if   she   had   no   hair,   ed   couldn’t   grab   it.      she   missed   her   long   auburn   curls,   but   it   had   become   a   habit   to   keep   it   short.      then   it   started   to   grey   pretty   early,   which   just   made   her   more   self   conscious,   made   her   feel   older   than   she   was.

               alyssa’s   retelling   of   her   history,   it   felt   so   familiar.      she’d   heard   those   words   before,   or   at   least   something   similar.      with   ed,   he   had   marked   her   up   because   he   wanted   her   to   seem   ugly,   wanted   to   show   her   that   she   wasn’t   good   enough   and   needed   to   be   punished   for   it.      it   took   a   long   time   to   get   her   confidence   back,   and   even   now   she   still   has   doubts,   but   she’s   sure   that   with   time   alyssa   will   come   to   see   her   beauty   once   more.

               ❝   it   takes   a   long   time   to   get   that   kind   of   confidence.      it   probably   helps   when   magazines   talk   about   your   attractiveness.      being   in   the   public   eye,   you   kind   of   have   to   be   confident   to   survive.   ❞      the   job   that   they   do   required   a   certain   level   of   confidence   too.      she   shouldn’t   forget   that.      not   just   anyone   could   do   what   they   do.

               with   a   sigh,   carol   wraps   an   arm   around   aly’s   shoulders.      morgan   and   reid   can   handle   things   down   here,   they   don’t   need   to   be   here.      plus   carol   isn’t   too   interested   in   watching   twenty   somethings   run   around   in   bikinis.      ❝   let’s   head   back,   help   hotch   and   jj.   ❞      as   they   head   out   of   the   studio   and   towards   the   car,   carol   decides   that   maybe   she   should   tell   a   story.      it’s   not   a   happy   one,   but   she   just   wants   aly   to   know   she’s   not   alone   in   the   scars.      she’s   told   her   before   that   she   had   an   abusive   husband,   but   she   never   really   went   into   detail   with   those   stories   because   they   were   in   the   past,   and   that’s   where   she   usually   preferred   to   keep   them.      ❝   i’m   going   to   tell   you   something   that   he   did   to   me.      i   know   you   won’t   repeat   it,   but   it   still   stays   between   us   because   i   don’t   want   or   need   the   pity   from   others.   ❞

she did sound a bit like spencer— maybe just because she was used to it by now. he was the one who taught her that it was okay to be yourself, after all. not to hide her knowledge but share it. though maybe there were times and places for such things. but it was also a bit of a defence mechanism. if she brushed off emotion with fact, maybe it would lessen the sting a little bit.

" is it silly that i want to be like that? " alyssa asked, her stomach in knots at just asking the question. " i mean.. i know that outer beauty isn’t everything. he told me.. in the… " a pause as fingernails dug into her palm. in the boathouse. it’s implied. the place where her whole life changed. when she realised monsters took the form of loved ones, and scars were not only physical.

" he told me he would make me unlovable. that he would take away what drew people in so i couldn’t get distracted. because nobody could ever want someone so broken. so damaged. " she tugged at the collar of her sweater ever so slightly. even in the heat of california she still wore layer upon layer of clothing. but it covered the scars— at least most of them. there was still one that poked just past her collar, the line going down across her neck to her chest. the others on her back, her shoulder blades, stayed hidden. but scars meant imperfection. and that was the one thing that tobias valued. the one thing he’d taught alyssa to value above all else.

she would remain broken. tarnished.

" it’s not just the physical appearance. it’s.. the confidence. someone like her can go in and talk to anyone. everyone likes her, they can’t stop looking at her. " she’d noticed that spencer had seemed to be paying just a little more attention to lila. it could be anything— she shouldn’t care. she doesn’t- right?

" it’s stupid, never mind.. think we can just— head back..? " her own way of saying: ' i’d rather look at crime scene pictures or a computer screen than be here. '

[lis-likes-fics]

Can’t Sleep, Love

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Reader Warnings: Language, excessive use of “jesus” as a curse word, nothing else, this is a cuddle fic... A/N: Yes, I jumped on this wagon. Eddie Munson is among one of the many to own my ass and my heart at the moment, so enjoy the fics he’s gonna squeeze out of me for a while. I might be adding a taglist, I will be adding a divider (at a later time, it’s two in the fcking morning). Enjoy this unhinged weirdo in this best friends to lovers. P.S.: I have found that I would die for him so... ahem.

“Eddie!” you yell across the cafeteria, ignoring the looks you receive from those who turn at your outburst. The messenger bag at your side flails around as you practically sprint, being called out by a teacher who tells you to walk. You hardly listen as you move some hair out of your face. Some people snicker, others roll their eyes. You don’t care, too focused on the person you were trying to reach.

The person in question looks up at the sound of his name, brown eyes finding yours as he smiles. His hands, decorated in the rings you seem to adore so much, are clasped in front of him as he leaned on his elbows. His hair, long and dark, sits on his shoulders in tangles and frizzy curls.

You shoo away the sophomore in your usual spot, plopping down next to your best friend with a huff and a groan. Scattered ‘hey’s are spread around the table. It seems you have interrupted a conversation you had little to no care about at the moment. “I hate making calls,” you mumble to him as you drop your bag down onto the floor with a loud thud. You slouch as you grab his plate of food — food he was merely picking at, rather than actually eating — and chew on a semi-cold fry.

His face lights up at your complaint, “So you called like I said?”

You nod, but the second groan you let out as you toss the fry onto the table is a pathetic one that he rolls his eyes at. “What did they say? Did it go well?”

“I’ve got an interview tomorrow at two-thirty,” you tell him, picking at the peeling table.

“Well, that’s good. Isn’t it?”

You roll your eyes, “Yeah, Eds, but that means I actually have to go and talk to people and pretend to be a normal human being. Nobody wants that.” He laughs at you — that teasing, throaty laugh that ends with an inhale as he leans back in his seat — and you scowl. “Your support in me is welling up in my soul,” you mumble, sarcasm dripping from your lips as you continue to glare.

He sighs contentedly, like he has finally stopped laughing from the greatest joke. “I’m sorry, you’re just so funny.”

“Har, har,” you said monotonously.

He gently punched your arm and you rubbed the spot as if it had hurt. “Don’t be a pussy,” he says, although his eyes convey a much less curt tone. Surrounded by all these people encourages him not to get all soft on you. He’s got a reputation to uphold and so do you. “It’s only one job interview. The worst they can do is say no.”

“Exactly!” you exclaim, slapping your hands on the table as your own rings — one which was gifted to you by Eddie — clatter against the hard table. “They could say no and I will have socialized for nothing, and wasted a perfectly good Saturday.” You mumble the last part to yourself under your breath.

Again, Eddie rolls his eyes. “Oh, hush. You’ll be fine, Bug,” he snorts. Your grumble is loud and annoyed as your head hits the table with a thump.

“Oo, that sounded like it hurt,” Dustin says as he approaches the table with Lucas and Mike on his heels. They take their seats, and you ignore the slight pulse in your forehead.

“What’s going on?” Lucas asks with his arms folded over the table.

You look up at him sharply, clenching your jaw as you practically snapped at him. “O’ fearless leader…is an asshole,” you seethe with no real anger or hatred in your voice, but just enough annoyance to substitute for both.

Like you were delivering a never-ending joke, Eddie laughs once again. “Bug’s got a job interview, and she’s upset because she actually has to go to it,” Eddie confesses, giving you up like chopped liver.

Mike shrugs, “You’ll be fine. You’re good at talking to people.”

This time, Eddie’s laugh is louder. It’s like he has just heard the funniest joke that could ever be told as he leans back in his seat, hand over his chest, and head thrown back. “Clearly, you’ve never seen her talk to people,” he says in between fits of laughter.

You punch his arm harshly, getting him to shut up as you shoot him a glare. He is hardly deterred, still giggling to himself as he shakes his head. “Well, that’s not true,” Lucas tries. “You were really cool when you met us.”

You roll your eyes, “That’s because you’re nerds. And you’re just kids, I can talk to kids. It’s the condescending adults I hate. And there are a lot of condescending adults.”

Eddie is still giggling when you glare at him again. “Eddie, would you shut up?” you tell him, hiding your face in your hands. “God, you’re so annoying. Why are we friends?”

“Because no one else would take you,” he answers, smirking at you knowingly.

You don’t respond to his joke the way he had hoped you would, still hiding your face away in your hands and sighing heavily. He lets out a breath, resigning from his jokes and laughter as he nudges your shoulder. “Ah, I’m sorry,” he says, grabbing your hands to pull them away from your face. When you're looking at him, he tilts his head down so he looks at you through his lashes.

“I’m sorry, Ladybug,” he apologizes, using that full childhood nickname he had given to you years ago. He grabs a lock of hair between his fingers, pulling it in front of his face to hide behind as he offers a kinder smile. “I’m a royal ass, I should be nicer to a ‘Lady’.” He almost bows dramatically, his hand discarding his hair in favor of twirling in your direction as he ducks his head.

You find it harder to stay mad at him when he acts like this, especially in front of others who he pretends to be harder with. That twinkle in his eyes, that genuine closed-smile on his lips, you can’t help yourself. You return his smile reluctantly, ignoring the way you could feel your heart more consciously in your chest, the way it thumped a little heavier than it had been before.

“Whatever,” you mumble. He catches the sincerity in your tone, the silent forgiveness in your voice as you roll your eyes, which still landed on him.

Eddie beams and leans forward again, turning his attention to the freshies that had joined the table moments prior, along with the rest of the D&D nerds at the table. “Alright, you little shits, listen up. I’ve got a campaign planned for next week so clear your schedules.”

~

When nightfall comes and you still find yourself wide awake and desperately in need of sleep, you can’t help but pace your room in distress. You always get like this, restless and anxious. This is one of the reasons you absolutely loathe interviews, tests, or even the slightest thought of having to get out of your comfort zone to interact with something or — God forbid — someone you are unfamiliar or unsure about.

You’re an acute-insomniac.

And Eddie knows it.

It is closer to midnight when you hear the quiet rap on your window, a familiar tapping that comes when metal meets glass. You turn around and are entirely unsurprised to see your best friend sitting on the ledge, a large grin on his face and the face of his rings turned toward you as he threatens to knock again. You go to the window, taking a seat and opening it to see him.

“Hey, Ladybug,” he greets, face still beaming as if the smile had not dropped from when you left him before. The nickname makes you roll your eyes. You hardly remember the last he had called you by your actual name — not that you’re complaining.

The nickname “Ladybug” or just “Bug” for short came from when you were a child. You always liked ladybugs, and you used to collect them and take them home with you, hide them in your room in a Mason jar with tiny poked holes in the lid. While Eddie admired your “hobby”, it was a tiring job having to comfort you whenever you sobbed because the ladybugs died.

“Eddie,” you greeted plainly.

“Aren’t you gonna let me in?” he wonders, tilting his head playfully.

You raise a brow, “Do I really have a choice? Because I feel like if I don’t, you’re gonna find a way in one way or another.” As you speak, he climbs through the window and brushes past you without a second thought. You nod expectantly, closing the window behind him before standing again in your pajamas.

“I’m trying to sleep, Eds,” you tell him, sighing as you run a hand through your hair.

“I know, that’s why I’m here,” he says. As he turns, you hear the chains hanging from his pants rustle as he flashes you that smile, removing his jacket to throw it on the chair in your room, leaving him in his Queen’s tee. “Eddie to the rescue.” You roll your eyes.

“I hate to break it to you, pal, but whenever you’re over, it’s usually very unproductive toward sleep,” you tell him, raising a brow.

He shakes his head, raising a finger in your direction as he plops down on the bed, “Not gonna happen. I’m amazing at getting you to sleep.”

You point at him warily, an accusatory look in your eyes as you shake your head, “If you knock me out again, I swear I will literally throw you out of the window.”

“Jesus H. Christ, you will not let that go!” he grumbles, rubbing his temples as shaking his head.

“I had a concussion!”

He flails his arms dramatically, giving you that same exasperated look he gives whenever you bring it up. “How many times do I have to tell you — That was an accident!”

“In any case,” you sigh heavily, “the last time you tried to get me to go to sleep early for that test I had, we weren’t in bed until three in the morning.”

“I thought music would help,” he shrugs innocently.

You roll your eyes as you set your hands on your hips, “It was heavy metal.”

“Still music,” he points at you. You cannot help but laugh, crossing your arms over your chest and shaking your head in response to his words. He watches you with a smile, admiration clear across his face as his own chuckle makes its way up his throat.

He pats the spot next to him and you join his side, head resting on his shoulder. Already his presence brings you comfort as your mind eases just slightly, making sleep somewhat possible, but not within the realm of the next couple of hours.

Eddie brings his wrist to his face, checking the watch on his wrist as he nods. “Let’s see… 11:47. Quest: Get Your Ass to Sleep is a go.” You look up at him, interested in seeing what he had planned this time as he removes his shoes to join his jacket.

He just opens his arms wide and smiles at you. You raise a brow, “What? Are you going to suffocate me?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, waving his arms a little to beckon you closer. “No, I’m gonna cuddle you.”

You still. He is going to cuddle you? Arms wrapped around you, body against body, under the covers cuddling? There is only so much you can handle when it comes to Eddie Munson. This is on the growing list of things that make it harder to function like the semi-normal human being he knew.

It’s not exactly like you had not cuddled before. Maybe you were at his place watching a movie and you fell asleep in his arms, or one of you had a bad day and a long and warm hug was something you needed from one another to help ease the troubles away.

But lately, even the little things — like holding his hand or catching his eye at strange times — feel like a little more than it used to be. You don’t know what it means, the long silent looks, the brushes of your fingers that seem a little more sacred, your newfound inability to decline anything now stronger than it had been before. This feels so new, and yet so familiar, but you cannot place it. Quite frankly, you don’t think you want to.

You raise a brow, “Yeah, I don’t think that’s going to work.”

“Why not?” he asks, quirking a brow as his grin falters slightly, confusion on his face with a hint of disappointment.

“It’s way too hot in here for cuddling,” you tell him, crossing your arms.

His confusion was amplified as his arms fell. “What the hell are you talking about? It’s so cold in here, it’s always cold in here.”

It’s not hot? It feels pretty hot to you with the way he opens his arms again as less of an invitation and more of a demand. “Come on.”

“Eddie!” you complain, groaning as you lean toward him — not accepting his embrace, just moving closer to him to complain easier.

He does not take your protest, gesturing to the bed with his head. “Lie down,” he orders you. You go to argue again, trying to say you had something to do — which he knows is a lie. “–It’s not up for debate, Bug. Lie down.”

You huff and throw yourself back on the bed, turning on your side away from him as you pout. You feel the bed shift behind you, and you swear you suddenly become hyper-aware of everything. He places his arm over you, almost like he was thinking too much about it. You pull your arm up and out of his way and feel his hand almost drift down to your side, wrapping around you. His other arms snakes under you so that he is finally holding you.

You can hear his breath, pulling in and out as if he has to think about it. His fingers twitch against you, the tip of his ring finger grazes bare skin where your shirt had ridden up a little when you threw yourself back. You can feel the cold material of his rings even through his shirt. It was a habit of Eddie’s he still has not broken: his tendency to forget to take off his rings before he went to bed. You cannot blame him much, as you were also wearing a couple of your own rings as you tucked your hands under your cheek.

As the silence stretches, you tap your finger against your hand gently, absent-mindedly. You bite your lip and look around the room at your lamp, which is still glowing on your bedside table. You honestly did not mean to say anything. Your mouth moves faster than your brain, struggling to find something to distract from the strange moment between the two of you.

“I’m hungry.”

“I could eat,” Eddie replies without missing a beat.

You both sit up, separating from each other as you stand. I point at him awkwardly, trying to come up with something to say. Instead, you turn around and point to the door, which you then walk out of with him following behind you.

In the kitchen, things are not as intense as they were before. It was not necessarily an uncomfortable intensity, it was just… a lot. This time, you’re able to move around the kitchen as you fix a snack with Eddie, laughing and continuously shushing him to make sure he stays quiet. Your parents are asleep by now, and you do not want to wake them. Not necessarily because Eddie is over — about that, they could not care less — but more about the fact that they value their sleep.

Your hushed giggles joined with the abnormally loud clutter of the kitchen appliances are almost scandalous as the two of you dig into the ice cream you snatched from the freezer with two spoons. At some point, Eddie begins to hum something, a song you recognize and hum with him. The humming turns the quiet singing, which turns to the two of you twirling around one another and dancing clumsily around the kitchen.

Eddie, with his hand holding yours, spins you around and you laugh when you collide with the fridge. A plastic bowl sitting on top of the fridge wobbles and you nearly panic at the sight of it. As you go to reach for it, you are too late as it tips over the edge, juggling in your hands for a moment before ultimately falling with a loud clattering sound. You clasp a hand over your mouth as the both of you still with too-big grins, staring down at each other as you wait for any sign that you have been found out.

When you hear both your names suddenly echo through a door down the hall, you laugh with Eddie as you mumble to each other to put the ice cream away and make a run for it. The sad excuse for a cleanup left as you both slip and slide down the hall in your socks is the container with two spoons stuck inside of it, the lid thrown in the freezer carelessly and in a hurry.

When he stops in front of you at the door, you pat his back repeatedly. “Go, go, go!” you whisper, pushing him inside. He takes a tumble to the ground, which you end up following directly after. You both crack up as quietly as you can manage as you find yourself fallen on top of his chest.

When the giggles finally subside, you slowly move off of him to close the door silently behind you. He sits up, tampering with his hair as you stand, pulling him to his feet. When he’s upright again, he ends up closer than you had anticipated. He’s merely inches away from you and you almost hold your breath.

As you take a step back, peering up at those dark brown eyes that you loved to watch sparkle, you clear your throat and raise a brow. “So, are we gonna try again, weirdo?” you say, trying not to sound as hopeful as you feel.

“Well, you do need your sleep,” he quips, not as smoothly as usual, but well enough that you chuckle.

You take off your socks this time before you crawl onto the bed, laying on top of the sheets as you turn off the light. He follows suit, climbing in behind you and wrapping his arms around your body like before, his movements more sure than last time. His arms rests under your head as he pulls you a little closer.

It’s quiet for a little bit as you close your eyes, letting out a deep sigh as you get ready to sleep. But as you lay there, you can’t help the nagging feeling that something is not quite right. You know what the problem is, and you almost succeed in keeping it to yourself. Key word: almost.

“I’m cold.” You almost shudder to get your point across as the chill clings to your bones.

“I thought you said you were hot,” he rolls his eyes, even if you cannot see him.

You shrug, “Well, now I’m cold.” He groans and gets up to fix the covers, bringing it up and over your bodies in an attempt to warm you up. As he moves back into his place, the both of you attempt once more to get to sleep.

And you almost succeed.

Key word again: almost.

“Move, my arm is falling asleep,” he tells you bluntly, moving his hand around as he tries to return the feeling to it. You huff outwardly, sitting up so he can take his arm back. He waves it around for a while before lying back down, this time wrapping his arms around your waist instead of tucking it under your head.

You let out a long breath as you close your eyes once more, readying yourself for bed to trump this anxiety — an anxiety you are nearly forgetting about. But as you lay still under the covers, you begin to think about how warm the covers are mixed with the heat of your bodies pressing so closely together.

You bite your lip, squirming a little bit to try and get comfortable. Eddie quickly grows sick of it as he groans, “I call you 'Bug’, but I should call you ‘Pest’.”

“I’m hot,” you state, rolling your eyes and letting out a sound reminiscent of a groan.

“You just said you were cold.”

“Yeah, well now I’m hot, Eddie. What the fuck do you want me to do?” you tell him, glancing over your shoulder.

“I want you to pick a temperature. One temperature, for the love of God.” He mumbles the last part to himself, adjusting your blankets so it sits lower on your body but still covers you. “Better?”

You nod and shift under the sheets to get comfortable again. Eddie squirms a little, bending his knee, but when he does that, it completely throws you off again. You grumble under your breath but certainly loud enough for him to hear, “Just jam your knee right into my back. This is fine.”

Again, he grunts a half-hearted apology and shifts his leg to move out of the way. But as he moves it lower, you are glad the light is out because otherwise your annoyed blush would be more visible as you tell him, “Eddie, that’s my crotch.”

“Jesus,” he cursed, fixing his leg once again.

“Look, this isn't gonna work,” you try.

He does not listen. “It will work.” His insistence almost feels like he was just looking for an excuse to hold you, rather than him trying to get you to go the hell to sleep — although you know, that is also part of the reason. You just sigh and shake your head.

Time passes, a reasonable amount of time. Your eyes begin to grow heavy, but it isn’t enough just yet. Maybe a few more minutes and you can try and give in to whatever you can grab for sleep. You start to zero in on Eddie: the rise and fall of his chest against your back, the feeling of his hands on your waist with his ring finger still very much grazing bare skin, his gentle breaths fanning over the back of your hair.

Everything is still and calm. You can probably hear his heart beating if you listen closely enough.

But Eddie suddenly ruins it as he lets out a heavy sigh, it fades into a groan. The sound makes you aware of how close you were to getting your mind to shut down and prepare for sleep because a haze lifts from your mind as you open your eyes again.

“Eddie.” Your voice is very nearly a threat, laced with venom and annoyance bordering on anger — well, not exactly anger, more just intense frustration… Eddie hears this in your tone and allows another sigh to pass through before he speaks.

“Your hair, I can’t… I can’t breathe with your hair in my face like this,” he mumbles, one of his hands practically swatting at your hair to sort through it.

You curse under your breath as you sit up, “Here, how about this?” You turn over onto your other side, pulling the sheets up just enough as you lay back down. The new position places you face-to-chest with Eddie, and you look up at him as you settle.

Eddie looks down at you, slowly wrapping his arms back around your body in a more comfortable way. His arm cradles your head while the other keeps you close by your waist. From this new angle, you can properly hear his heart beating, feel his chest rising and falling, hear his breath blow gently into the still air. You can smell him, leather and cigarettes, a scent you have grown to adore.

Your hand comes to rest on his hip, the other crumples into your chests — although, not uncomfortably as you absent-mindedly wrap your fingers around his shirt. You feel the cold material of his guitar pick around his neck underneath your hand, and it causes a small grin to unknowingly spread over your lips.

You are much more comfortable this way, cradled against him like a precious thing held closely to his heart. You hardly notice your legs entwine, wrapping an arm around one another in a search to be closer. He provides a new warmth for you. Any part of you that seems unfortunate enough not to be in contact with him feels colder and encourages you to cuddle closer to him. He welcomes you gladly, his hand lifting gently to stroke his thumb over your cheek.

You hear him whisper your name, to which you reply with a lazy hum as you find yourself much closer to rest than any of the other times combined. When he presses a soft kiss to your forehead and whispers, “I love you, Ladybug”, it feels a lot different from all those other times when he would tell you when you needed to hear it — or even at times when he just felt like saying it to you. You know it does, you can feel it in the way that you feel your heart flutters at the words, feel it in the way that his heart flutters at the words.

And still you whisper back in that different-from-all-those-other-times way, “I love you, too, Eds” because you know it’s true.

My Megalist: pending... Eddie Munson taglist: pending... Tag yourself here...

[phoeebsbuffay]

Imagine Vader falls in love with you. He’s been in angst after his recent encounter with Obi-Wan and Ahsoka. But hope rises when he’s with you. You are neither too good nor too bad. You, in fact, are the balance he needs. Part I.

Warnings: angst, drama; unburnt Vader.

Warnings 2: based on “Give Me Love” by Ed Sheeran.

Warnings 3: I got carried away as usual so there’ll be a part II coming soon.

No minors.

***

Vader’s POV.

There are those who say the worst enemy to be faced does not reside in the faces of those who once provide us adversities, who inspire dislike or the worst sentiment. But instead resides inside ourselves.

Vader lives this truth. What moves his hatred is not his longtime frustration for not earning the well deserving title of Master Jedi; what moves his anger is not the observation of facts that he was always obeying others.

When he told Obi-Wan that his former master wasn’t the one to have killed Anakin, that he did himself embodies this truth. When he saw the tears of hurt running down in Ahsoka’s cheek, when he felt her guilt for abandoning him… He wanted to tell her that no one led him to this path that was not himself.

Vader is Anakin’s own enemy. Anakin is the enemy of Vader. Guilt for failing to provide Padmé’s safety drowns his goodness everyday. He suffocates in the depths of darkness. There are days he stares at himself in front of the mirror.

“Give me love.”

He tells himself, angst piercing his chest as he contemplates physical scars of battles that are now dust into wind. A wayward child is what has become the once powerful Jedi.

A conflict that torments him. But everyday is downed under the hood that omites his features as if the dark cape is the only thing possible to offer him comfort in the midst of discomfort.

One day, though, he needs to distract his mind of this self hatred. Vader comes to see this life isn’t complying to his desires, isn’t giving the comfort he sought, it has become an unbearable hell. It’s when he decides to forge his death.

To the fuck with all this.

Once he does so, Vader manipulates the Force to hid his signature. Once he assures his death reaches every ear and every eye in Death Star, he takes a random ship and pilots to a planet that is unknown to him. He does not know what to expect there, what he is yet to find, but Vader trusts the Force.

And when he does, it happens precisely when his path crosses yours.

***

Your POV.

Though chains tie your wrist and a poor, old silver gown falls down your body, you find reason to dance in the abandoned street of capital of the planet Y/C.

Your hair is dirty, down to your back. You know you are seen as crazy, mad woman by the common folk. Some might even suggest you are a witch. Not even your former owner wants you anymore.

But you’ve never been more sane. You just have… a sensibility to the Force somehow. Though you’ve never been one familiar with Jedis or Siths, you are sensitive to the cosmic fluid that flows in you. There are moments where it is disturbed because you use it poorly—years ago you used to vindictive and applied every trick possible against the stormtroopers because your family suffered under their attack and that was how you were enslaved.

But now you see no reason in being a vengeful, you end up finding the balance. And suddenly the chains of your wrist drops lose.

How did I do that?

You look at it admired. But there’s little time to contemplate it because a husky voice addresses you word:

“You have the Force with you.”

When you turn around to see who would be the one to address you word when you were ignored by everyone, you are surprised to see a man involved in dark robes whose cape prevents you to see who he is. You sense he is deeply troubled, but you don’t fear him.

“How’d you know?” You look at him, distrustful. “And who are you? Do you know who I am?”

A laughter is heard. The man under the cape steps closer to you.

“I just do. And no, I don’t. Why should I care?”

You tremble.

“A-Are you going to kill me?”

“If I wanted to see this happening, you’d not be speaking to me right now.” It’s the answer you get.

You barely breathe. Your instinct tells you to run away, but somehow you don’t. The man in the cape watches your conflict with interest.

“Who are you?” You ask, detesting that your voice betrays your weakness.

“You may call me…” He pauses, and you sense his conflict with himself. “Skyguy.”

“Skyguy.”

You chew the word, thoughtful.

“For a moment I feared you were a Sith.” You admit, breathing in relief.

You don’t see him, but underneath the cape amusement twinkles in the eyes of that man. He did manage to disguise his true identity, but even so you saw through it—which says a lot more of you than he thought. But for some strange reason, he opts to let you think you have been mistaken.

“How should I name you?”

“Y/N.” You present yourself. “You’re not from here, are you?”

The man ignores your question.

“Do you have a home, Y/N? We could stay there.”

You raise an eyebrow at how blunt he is. Does he really think I’d let him stay in my home when we barely met?

Your thought entertains him, but your response would sadden the stranger.

“I don’t. Looks like I’ve just freed myself from the chains.”

You see the man folding his arms.

“What? Why the hell not?”

Though you don’t like how he asks these questions, you are also content there’s somebody to speak to.

“Because I lost everything when the troopers invaded my planet. Short story: I ended up a slave.”

A moment of awkwardness instaures between the two of you. You sigh and say:

“Look, I don’t want your pity, all right? I’m following my way.”

“You have no where to go.” He observes.

“And? I-I’ll survive.”

It’s when you are surprised by the sudden demonstration of kindness coming from such a man.

“No. You are coming with me”

***

Vader’s POV.

“You can’t choke people like that!” He hears your protests. “I’m not going to follow this path.”

Words he once heard, words that never ceased to torment his bad dreams. Vader turns at you abruptly, but something about you prevents his demonstration of tantrums. Instead of sulking, he realizes he’s just tired of how the tentacles of his trauma continues to monopolize the grip of his conscience, often manipulating him against himself.

“The creature was suffering from a long disease. He was about to die anyway.” Vader does not know why he bothers to find an excuse to have you willingly complying to his wishes, whatever these might be.

“Oh.” Your innocence makes you believe in him. Vader refuses to feel guilty. No. Absolutely not. “Well we should give him a proper burial then.”

“Do what you must. I don’t care. I’m tired.” Vader walks in and goes straight to the second floor. It’s a nice home, though part of him compares it to the home he once had with Padmé. His heart breaks again when thinking about the future he could have had with her and their unborn children.

All of them are dead because of me.

Tears come uninvited as he moves to the bathroom, to have a shower. As he is nude under the shower, he pays no mind to the warmth of the water that burns his skin. Somewhere in the complexity of his mind, he enjoys the pain. Because I deserve it.

However, he does not stay that so long. Seeing red spots in his skin, Anakin contemplates the self punishment he’s been inflicting in himself. The self hatred pumps in his vein, boiling his blood; makes every beat of his heart a long ache.

He leaves the shower, exhausted of this cruel game his conscience plays with him. It’s when he remembers of the strange lass he found at the empty street. A slave who lost it all. Vader refuses to see the parallels, the path to redemption.

So he falls asleep unwillingly. He doesn’t care how you fare. Yet.

The next day, Vader takes the clothes of this man whose life he put an end and whose household he stole. After that, he comes for you. But where are you?

Against the selfishness that instigates him to ignore you, Vader looks for you. To his surprise, you are cooking. And singing. Like nothing happened.

He folds his arm, baffled. Vader watches you, clean and dressed in feminine clothes—apparently there used to be a female living in this house. Your hair is not dirty, there is no dust in your y/c locks and your shine curls falls clean behind your back. You are wearing an exquisite dress, old and mayhaps too large for you. But somehow you made to your size.

The Force in Y/N is really impressive.

Mindful to keep his identity unseen, he lifts the hood and takes his seat.

“What are you cooking?“

Vader does struggle not to laugh out loud when seeing you jump, startled. Or how deeply you blush when turning your head at him.

“I-I…”

“You should stop fearing me. It’s annoying.”

“Considering you’ve murdered an innocent man last night, forgive me if I think you might do that to me as well.”

Vader sighs.

“How many times must I tell you that he was about to die anyway? Besides I’m giving you a home and…” He interrupts himself when he realizes what he’s been doing. “Why am I excusing myself to you?”

When you smile, Vader realizes he’s not doing it right. Oh fuck.

“Because you have a good conscience after all. Forgive me for misjudging you.” Without waiting for his grumpy response, you say: “I’ve made some eggs with sausage. There’s plenty of food in the fridge.”

Vader knows you’ve struggled with your new position in living in the home of someone whom he choked out of his place. But he also sees that every other option would be badder. So you came to terms with your conscience. He smirks when perceiving it.

“Yes. I’d like that if you may.”

Finally you two have a conversation when you sit right before the other on a table on the kitchen. You are amazed by it because it is that kind of table that there exists only in the fancy households. Vader watches with interest how you are admiring the mobile, but says nothing of the matter.

“Eat.” You tell him. “Is it good?”

Vader does take a bite. He realizes he’s been starving and you giggle at that.

“Well?”

“It is good. Your food is really…divine.” He smiles when seeing you blush again. “Thank you, Y/N.”

His eyes linger at how the simplicity of things makes you happy. In turn, it helps to dissipate the darkness that he’s been used to. Vader instantly stops smiling. He cannot let you affect him this way.

“No problem.” After you take another bite of the egg you made, you turn at him, sensing he’s conflicted. “Why are you hiding underneath this hood? Aren’t you uncomfortable?”

“No.” Vader is definitely not giving away who he is.

“Come on, Skyguy.” Something about how you use his former nickname threatens the stability of his dark pillars. “Why making things so difficult? I wish I know more about you.”

“Why would you do that? There’s nothing to know.”

“Because there is.” You insist. “I know. I… I want to be friends with you. I… I have no one anymore.”

Another parallel. Vader closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, but he forced himself to be rude to you.

“I don’t care.”

He sees your shoulder lowers and disappointment in your face. When you stand and remove the plates for wash, Vader sees sadness in your face as you turn to the dishes.

He hates it. He hates to be the reason of it. As he tries to reach out for you, another conflict comes. It’s when Vader gives up and decides to explore the house, leaving you there.

***

Your POV.

You delight yourself in the library there is at home. As you pick a random book, which is a novel, much to your surprise, you are distracted from the strange circumstances you’ve been put into by destiny.

As much as you are thankful for this Skyguy to provide you with a new home and other means to live—however dubious this turned out—-you sense he’s been plagued by the dark forces. You know very little about the Sith and the Jedis, at least your knowledge about the agents of darkness is a little wider than the latter. But sometimes you wonder whether he’s not some Sith. It’s an impression in your heart that does not leave.

Even so, you sense the good in him. Why, however, is Skyguy so conflicted? Why do I detect such suffering in him?

Your guts tell you to ask him, but you don’t. After what happened in the day before during the breakfast, you’d not risk. You decide it’s for the best to ignore him when, to your surprise, the door opens and he finds you.

“Y-Yes?” You still distrust him. “Are you here to end my life?”

You know you should not be sarcastic, but you cannot help yourself. A scar underneath your chin is there to remind you that not even your former master appreciated that trait.

Perhaps you expect this treatment, but you are surprised when he softens to you, without suspecting that he read that traumatic scene via your thoughts.

“I said if I wanted you dead you would be. But I don’t want this to happen.” He hesitates. Again, the conflict.

You decide to break the barriers between you two.

“I know you are suffering. I am not asking you the cause. But, Skyguy, we must work our differences. It looks like we are living here together for a while, so…”

When you are about to give up on his answer, you shrug and begin to go back to reading, he says:

“What are you reading?”

You offer him a smile.

“A romantic novel about a knight and a queen.”

There’s hesitation somehow and you, for some reason, suspect this is a top sensible to him. Your smile fades when coming to think about it.

“Why’d you be entertained by this sort of…love story?”

Again, he surprises you. Perhaps all you should is give him time.

“Because it’s not about love, but hope. It’s a story where the queen does not wish to change her very flawed lover, but instead shows him the light to become a better person.”

You see his shoulders tense. But again you don’t ask him the motive.

“What are your thoughts in regard of this story? Don’t you think the queen is arrogant for presuming herself to be the light to the man she should be love?”

You are amused by how passionately he is when speaking about a fictional story. It’s when it occurs to you this might hint to him more than you know.

“Uh… no? Wouldn’t you wish the one you love to become a better person? And I’m not saying changing this individual.”

You watch Skyguy lean agains the wall, he too opting to seat on the floor as you. You wish you could capture something of his face, but you know it’s a wishful thinking.

“I think love is the death of duty.” He says in a different tone you’ve gotten yourself used to.

“Do you? Why?“

A question you regret because he instantly stands and leaves you. You sigh, but return your attention to the book. Later that day, you decide to exercise yourself in the backyard.

There’s a tree, so you decide to climb and take a seat at the stem. You smile at the liberty it makes you feel when the wind blows against your hair, against your face. Though it makes you feel like a child, the sensation is powerful. You feel the Force flow in you. You close your eyes and meditate. But the sensation doesn’t last long because…

“What do you think you are doing?”

You open your eyes, startled. Next thing you know… you fall. Skyguy comes in a rush to succor you. But by doing so, his hood eventually drops behind and the only reason why the pain in your back, in your neck and in your leg is not felt intently at first is the shock stamped in your face when you see his identity.

You’d never seen such a handsome man in your life before. How gracious his curls fall over his neck! There’s not a single feature your eyes wouldn’t admire and you don’t even mind the yellow that colors his. Somehow, you feel you have the reason because the yellow eyes are usually the trait attributed to the Sith. However, in these past days since he rescued you, he’d been so kind and tender to you—though in his own way. Could a Sith possess such good qualities?

“Why are you smiling, silly girl?” He asks you as he carries you inside the house. “You just fell off a tree.”

“Because…” you hesitate, but by his frown, you know it’s pointless to hide away your thoughts. “…you are not as bad as you want to show.”

***

Vader’s POV.

“For your own sake, I would not say further a word now if I were you.”

You’d have laughed at it, and Vader knows there was much ado about nothing where his identity is concerned, though you don’t seem to link him to the great and evil Darth Vader. But you begin to feel a great deal of pain and he forgets his self infliction for his dark past he carries with him.

“Are you okay? All you all right?” Vader inquires urgently before he concentrates the Force to heal the points in your body that are hurting.

You breathe out in relief. A smile in your lips equals the optimism in your eyes.

“Yes, despite the startle you give me. Is it a tendency of you, Skyguy?”

Vader detests your innocence, your kindness, your good heart. He also has plenty other reasons to list the hate he feels for you. But when you smile at him, it is as if you tell him that a second chance is waiting ahead.

I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve your cheerfulness.

“You were floating.” He grumbles. Vader cannot leave you, he is forced to acknowledge it. “How can I leave you to yourself?”

There is another reason too that you’d not know. You have been plagued by nightmares every night, though Vader struggled not to comfort you, he helped to sooth your fears from the bedroom he uses. But the first time he was awaked by your nightmares, he saw your old memories and they were terrifying to see: the abuses you endured, the losses, the flirt with vengeance, the pain, the grief.

I’ve been through that myself, but I was never strong enough to overcome these scars.

In every inch, you were like him. Except you were kinder, softer, funnier and gentler. Traits he no longer possessed. Or so Vader judged.

Beyond his narcissism, though, he is moved by a better sentiment that prevails his darkness when it comes to you.

“Does this mean a Sith Lord is concerned about me?” You tease him. “Thank you, Skyguy. I know there’s good in you.”

Vader sighs and rolls his eyes. He shakes his head and stands, leaving you there. But I don’t sense disappointment in you…

“You are deluded.” Vader tells you before bringing you a glass of water.

Your eyes linger at his face, but Vader refuses to meet your gaze. He takes a seat on the floor and refuses to watch you. There is silent for a moment before you say:

“The path for good is not lost for those who seek it.”

It’s when he stands again, but turning at you, he does what it’s best: hurt the people he cares about.

“What makes you think I am good? Look at your state! You got injured because I’m here. Everyone I care about died. Or the Force took them away!”

Before he knows, his eyes are blurred by tears. And without his awareness, Vader let Anakin burst in a puddle of mess. Under your comprehensive eyes, his pain bleeds, old scars are ripped out of his self.

He’s desolated, plagued by a vicious path of death, blood and misery. The disturbance grows and would have scratched his signature, thus exposing him to dark forces of Sith had you not interfered.

“What are you doing?” He asks when seeing you left the couch to give him an embrace.

“Giving you the love you need. The kindness, the gentleness, the comprehension you deserve.” You say, making him look at you. “There is nothing wrong with you, Skyguy. You are hurting. You just never learnt how to cure because you repressed your wounds. But if you don’t tend them, they will ruin you. You are not entirely bad. There is good in you.”

“Your good faith is disgusting.” Vader reproves your speech.

But you smile at him.

“You don’t believe that. Come here… Sit with me.” He reluctantly takes a seat by your side. “Say with me: I am one with the Force and the Force with me.”

“I will not…”

One glare is enough to compel him to you. As he says it, Vader begins to breathe in tranquility. There is peace, there is balance.

“How…” He asks you, confused.

You shrug.

“It is what it is. Are you feeling better?”

Vader hesitates. It’s when he notices his hand is tangled to yours. He is quick to remove it, despite the cold that comes with this abrupt separation.

“Yes.” A pause before he glances at you. “Are you?”

You give a small smirk.

“A lot better. Do you want me to read for you? I think it would do you well.”

He frowns in response.

“For the Maker, Y/N. No!”

And he leaves you there, to spend the rest of the afternoon alone.

***

Your POV.

You are dancing again at the backyard. You are a free spirit and intensity flows from you in such a manner that SkyGuy cannot deny the attraction ignited by the Force.

“You are mental.” He accuses you, arms folded as he watches you.

You open your eyes to see him standing there. Something about him watching you makes you flush.

“Yet, here we are. Bounded by circumstances.” You answer him. “It’s been some time since our paths crossed. Will you stop offending me?”

He smirks at you, his yellow eyes following your moves as you walk inside.

“No.”

“Of course not. Because you are a heartless being.” You sigh. “I’m honestly tired of playing games with you, SkyGuy.”

Naturally, he’s cynical before this accusation. You don’t even pay your mind to the disdain in his demeanor. But as you take some wine, you turn at him and say:

“In fact, I have decided that I need to start my life. I am planning to leave this planet. I’m going to planet Y/C.”

Now his cynicism is wiped out of his face.

“What? Why? You cannot do that.”

You surprise him by not being the docile companion you’ve been to him in the last months.

“I can and I will.” Seeing the hurt in his eyes, you soften. “I’m sorry, Skyguy. I am just tired of doing nothing here. You are welcome to come with me.”

You see there’s hesitation in his features. You dare to hold his hand, pleasantly surprised when he doesn’t push you away.

“I… I think you need to know the truth about who I am.” He closes his eyes.

And now you are finally going to learn the true identity of the man who rescued you from obscurity.

*

It is already by twilight when he finishes telling you the whole truth. In your heart there is no other sentiment than compassion. You tangle your fingers with his. He looks at you, confused and fearful at the same time.

“I maintain what I told you months ago.” You smile at him. “You are not in need to be fixed. You are in pain. These are two different states. I’m sorry you were not sheltered by those who should have advised you properly. Repressing does little good, in fact.”

“How can you say such a thing? After all I’ve done?” He stares at you, perplexed.

“You said you killed Anakin Skywalker. I think you suffocated him. But he is who you are, you can’t change that. A powerful meaning of the weight you were forced to carry on your shoulders, but before that a name of your individuality, carrying the good and the bad side within.” A smiles spreads on your lips. “And I know a good way to bring him back.”

You are looked with suspicious by him, but seeing there is little resistance, you say:

“You will train me in the force.”

Skyguy looks at you baffled.

“What?”

(To be continue)

[spilledkauffie]

Bucky x Pregnant Reader

Just some funny & fluffy HCs (they’re kind of long, sorry!!)

*xFemale!Reader || Part 2 !

He’s super cautious about everything, if you want soup for dinner he makes sure it’s not too hot, if you want ice cream he lets it thaw just a little so it’s not too cold. When you asked him why he was sticking a thermometer in your coffee he simple said, “too much heat isn’t good for the baby, it could burn it,” as he stared at the meter, “uh-huh, and you do know we’re not in the 1940s anymore, right? We have a much better understanding of mom-baby connections,” you tilted your head, “Look I’m just being cautious, for you, okay?” It’s old fashioned, but it’s sweet.

He nearly has a heart attack when he sees you on a ladder, a step, the counter, or anything with heights. He will literally man handle you, grabbing you carefully by the waist or under your arms (yes, like a child in trouble) to bring you down from where you were, even if it isn’t actually that high. “It wasn’t even that high, babe,” you sigh, waiting for him to get your chips off the top of the fridge, “it’s not like I was climbing Mount Everest.” / “Close enough,” he shake his head at you with a sassy tone, still distraught over you just heaving yourself up onto the countertop.

Sam is always over! Though he doesn’t have kids, he has nephews he’s close with and thus has had some experience with babies and children. Often Bucky just rolls his eyes when Sam’s giving advice, but Sam comes back with “Oh, I’m sorry, who should she believe, a 106 year old who took vintage sex ed in 1900, or someone who was at the hospital with his sister, like eight years ago?” you had to laugh at the comment, but Bucky just ducked his head, “it was 1939…” / Sam is actually a big help for you, he said he’d try to get his sister up to visit with you and talk baby stuff next time the boys are on a mission so you’re not alone.

Sleeping, Bucky’s made it a habit of always going to sleep with his hand somewhere on your stomach, it’s mainly a protective thing, since before the baby he just had to have an arm around you, holding you. But now it has to be skin on skin contact, which means you’ll feel him slowly and softly slip his hand under your shirt when he comes to bed later than you. You’ve come to love it, often placing your hand on top of his.

↳ “lazy days” have become much more of a thing as you entered your third trimester, some days you just don’t want to get out of bed, and Bucky is completely fine with that, he’ll cook, he’ll bring you whatever you want, he’ll lie in bed with you.

You’ve gotten really concerned about the pregnancy and being a mom on a few occasions. Usually this results in some bouts of depression. In times like those, Bucky makes sure he is there physically and mentally for you. If you don’t want to talk about you, he lets you snuggle up as close and as tightly to him as you want. He understand silent suffering and how much just a physical person being there means. When you do want to talk about it, he’s always there and ready to listen.

One minor wince or groan or mumble from you and he’s on it with the “what’s wrong?” / “what is it?” / “how can I help? Is the baby coming?!” He’s mildly paranoid that he’s going to miss something vital or important if he isn’t 100% paying attention to every detail. This is why no you’ve never teased him about anything regarding the baby, because he’s so concerned and invested that it might just give him a heart attack… He is 106.

He was beyond panicked when you called him over, desperately reaching a hand out for him as he sat down next to you. Taking his hand, you press it to your side, and tell him to wait. Super confused if this is a good or bad moment he waits with an anxious look until- “did you feel that?” you smiled up at him; his jaw drops and spreads into a smile as he shifts closer to you in awe silence you both feel another kick, “wh- how did you do that?” he asks, stroking his free hand through your hair, as he bites the corner of his lip. Finding it precious you’re nearly crying from the happiness when he kisses your forehead.

He’s that guy that gets a book on “pregnancy for dummies,” so he can attempt to better understand what you’re going through that he can’t necessarily see. Needless to say part of the book horrified him, “oh my g- do you know what’s happening inside you?!” You just shake your head finding 10/10 entertainment in just watching his face whilst he reads it. The actual “how birth happens” chapter might’ve been one of the best.

He’s actually a little scared, or worried, about touching your baby bump (with a certain hand). You’ve told him you don’t mind that it’s cold, but he’s still avoidant. When asking him why, he didn’t want to say because he thought you might laugh, promising you wouldn’t he confessed, “what if the vibranium… magnetises the baby?” You managed to keep a straight face for approximately two seconds before breaking into laughter.

Your random (and very intense) moods are the biggest handful for him. He’s trying his very best to know what to do, but he never wants to make you feel like it’s not normal to feel a certain way.

↳ The Crying: one time he was telling you about this past mission he was on. It was like casual conversation for him to talk to you about it, but when he got to the part of “so they had these big dogs-” he looked over at you to find you in absolute tears, he stopped in his tracks, biting in his bottom lip as you stared at him, “and? then what?” you asked, voice breaking, he shook his head slowly, keeping eye contact, attempting to think of something, “then-” / “then you became best friends with the dogs and they were on your side in the fight?” he nodded dramatically to you response “yes, that’s exactly what- what happened… yep, nothing more to that story.” 

↳ constant State of Annoyed: at times you’re just purely annoyed for no reason, typically more passive aggressively, but sometimes you’re just straight up honest about it. When he tells you good morning and reminds you how beautiful and glowing you are, you’ve said “I love you, but your voice sounds like a duck today,” or “I am not glowing, be honest, I look and feel like a blimp.” He still tries his best to compliment you, other times he just hides for the day. Until you become super needy at night.

↳ MamaBear Instinct already kicking in: you’ve become extra protective / defensive. One time you were at the store, around one A.M. (because cravings!) and you were picking out cereals together. Bucky was surprised to see some brands he knew still around: “wow, Chex?” he picked up a box, “I didn’t know they were still making these-“ he trialed off about the cereal, but you noticed some kids snickering a few feet down the aisle. “Then again, the last time I had these they tasted like cardboard,” Bucky winced, “probably cause they were made out of it back then-“ / the kids laughed again, despite the soft Hello Kitty pj pants you had on, you were far from soft. “HEY!” You called out, “are you laughing at him?!” Bucky turned to see who you were talking to, but before he had time to address them himself, he was reaching to stop you from lunging over the cart at them, “I will fucking fight you if you are!” / “Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!” Bucky completely stepped to block you, lifting his hands to meet yours gently, but you just tried to push them out of the way still flustered.

[nightingaelic]

Reactions to a vampire courier? Companions plus Benny, Ulysses, Graham, House, Caesar, and Yes Man. (sorry if that's too many :x)

TW: Blood (maybe obviously)

Also I don't normally feel some type of way about AUs but the idea of Joshua Graham encountering a vampire courier is giving me shivers

The courier was a little... strange. Not in any way that stood out to the average wastelander just by looking at them, everyone in the Mojave had their quirks and the courier was no exception. Hell, you get shot in the head and come back, you're bound to have a screw or two loose. They were unquestionably a night owl, but so were half the people on the Strip, who only started to wake up after the sun had gone down and the slot machines were singing their loudest. They usually had bags under their bloodshot eyes, but every caravan driver from here to the Hub was short on sleep.

On the other hand, the courier had some habits that were a little beyond surface-level eccentricities. For one, no one had ever seen them eating, not once. Even when the King laid out a spread of pre-war snacks and liquor or when the buffet at the Tops was refreshed, they politely declined and took a swig from the canteen that they never offered to anyone else. They were also rather odd about bathrooms, insisting that anyone accompanying them remain outside on watch and let no one else through the door until they were finished. But the undeniable moment of oddity came one night in October, when their companion rounded a corner in Freeside after a trip to the Atomic Wrangler and discovered the courier behind a rusted dumpster, holding a man against a brick wall with their teeth buried in his neck.

The courier drew back at the interruption, blood smeared across their face. "I'm not- it's not what- he- oh, fuck."

Arcade Gannon: Arcade stared open-mouthed for a moment, before snapping violently back into the present. "Is he dead?"

"Umm..." The courier glanced at the man they were holding, whose head was lolling against the bricks. "Yes? Mostly."

With no patient to resuscitate, Arcade rounded on them. "Six, what in the ever-loving fuck are you doing?"

The courier tried to wipe away the blood that was dribbling from their chin, but they only succeeded in spreading it up their jawline. "Well, I, um, I was trying to..."

Whatever excuse they were searching for eluded them, so they dropped the pretense. "I was feeding, Arcade."

"Feeding? What, like some kind of-" Arcade's eyes widened and he cut his sentence off early in realization. "No. No way. That's not- vampires aren't real!"

That earned him a look of intense skepticism. "Arcade, we've fought off plant monsters and rattlesnake-coyote hybrids together. I have a gun in my pack that lets me teleport."

"Oh, okay, so you have some kind of iron deficiency and you're delusional." Arcade laughed, the sound high and harsh in the quiet alley. "Great. Fuck."

Craig Boone: Rather than engage in an abandoned alley, Boone immediately backtracked to a busier street. He was unsurprised when the courier didn't follow him: Even in Freeside, someone covered in blood was sure to be noticed and questioned.

Boone left town that night and made for Novac. He was pretty sure the courier would follow him, but he didn't know where else to go. At least he knew they were coming. A few people in Novac asked about where he'd been, what the courier was up to, but eventually they stopped asking.

A couple of weeks went by. Boone was on the night shift again when the door into the dinosaur swung open to reveal the courier. He'd heard someone coming, their feet on the stairs, and he already had his gun pointed in their face. "We will never work together again," he said, before they could open their mouth.

"Boone, can you just-"

"I don't want an explanation." Boone shook his head. "I don't need one. I already did you a favor, leaving New Vegas without putting you back in your grave. This is over."

The courier took a deep breath. "71."

"What?"

"71. I've killed 71 Legion soldiers and left their bodies empty under the Mojave sky." They looked down and shuffled their feet. "I've tasted their fear. They're more scared of me than the Burned Man, now."

Boone studied them. Ever so slowly, he lowered his gun.

Lily Bowen: "Put him down, dearie," Lily chastised them. "You're playing too roughly with that man. And watch your language around your grandma!"

The courier looked down at their victim, at their torn throat and limp limbs. "He tried to mug me, Lily. It wasn't pretty."

"He looks like he's had enough," Lily insisted. "Set him down. Gently."

With a sigh, the courier obliged and lowered the man to the ground. "I'm sorry, Lily. I should have told you earlier. I don't mean to be rude when I turn down your cooking, I just... I can't seem to..."

"Hush, now." Lily produced her enormous handkerchief and gathered the courier up in her arms, dabbing at the blood on their face with a corner of the cloth. "You've gotten it all over yourself, haven't you? We can clean that right up, but it looks like Grandma's going to have to do a load of laundry. You made the mess, so you get to help."

Raul Alfonso Tejada: Raul swallowed nervously, something he'd noticed he was increasingly doing around the courier. "You know, we get murciélagos down in Arizona that do the same thing. They won't leave the brahmin alone."

The courier took in his anxious stance and sighed. "Raul, I'm not going to hurt you. Prometo. It's okay."

"Sure boss, but I don't think the hair on the back of my neck is going down anytime soon." Raul smiled, but it was more of a grimace. "Or it wouldn't, if I still had any. Como..?"

"No clue." The courier shrugged and held their hands up, letting the corpse they'd been holding slide to the ground. "I think it had something to do with me surviving Benny's best attempts to do me in, but a bullet is a bullet and I don't remember if I was like this before, or..."

"Or only after." Raul chuckled. "Jesucristo, and here I am thinking I'll outlive you like most everyone else I've known."

"Yep."

"Should I start calling you el chupacabra?"

The courier grinned, a bloody smile with sharp teeth.

Rose of Sharon Cassidy: "Fuck," Cass echoed, scrambling to pull her shotgun from its holster. "Knew I had too much, can't even- who are you and what've you done with the courier? Some kind of cannibal, wearing their skin? Alien? Shapeshifter? I'll blow a hole in your liver to match mine!"

"Whoa, Cass, it's me, it's me!" The courier dropped the man they were holding and held their blood-stained hands up. "Same old Six, just... maybe I wasn't straight with you about why I don't order anything at bars."

"Goddamn right you weren't straight with me!" Cass gestured at the body on the ground with the barrel of her gun. "Who's the fucker on the floor and why are you two pints in on him?"

"Just trying to get my drink on," the courier muttered.

Cass repaid this facetiousness with a jab of her shotgun, and they raised their hands higher. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry! You tell me, how do you tactfully tell someone that you're a creature of the night and you need to drink blood to survive?"

"Creature of the night? You're fucking loopy." Cass' eyes narrowed. "There's plenty of critters in the Mojave that only come out when it's dark, but most of them don't tear into..."

She trailed off into curses when she realized she was wrong. The courier smiled hesitantly and lowered their hands an inch. "Hey. Let me chuck this failed mugger in the dumpster and we can talk about it like a pair of civilized folks?"

Veronica Santangelo: Veronica squeaked and fell back a few steps, banging her elbow against the edge of the dumpster. A jolt of confused pain shot up her arm, and the Scribe couldn't help giggling harshly at the sudden assault on her funny bone.

"Not- laughing... at murder," she managed to get out between hisses of pain. "Oh, for the love of... right, you're not getting out of explaining what you are, exactly, just because I'm indis-indisposed!"

The courier couldn't help laughing at the squirming Scribe, but they did their best to stifle it. "Sorry, I'm sorry, I um... I guess I don't really know... what I am?"

"There's books!" Veronica burst out, pointing at the courier and their victim wildly. "I've seen them, in old libraries. Creatures that feed on blood, only come out at night, don't show up in... in mirrors, of course, no wonder you're weird about bathrooms, I should test... Dracula! That's it, you're a Dracula!"

"A Dracula?" The courier held their hands up, as if seeing them anew. "Never heard of them. Are they... bad?"

"Well, traditionally, yes." Veronica made a face and rubbed her elbow. "Black cloaks, sleeping in coffins, seducing and manipulating everyone around them... and people don't like it when you take their blood, in my experience."

"Whose blood have you taken?"

"This isn't about me, Six!"

ED-E: The eyebot bobbed wildly and made noises of concern, blips and blats and a flat burst of trumpets from some old jazz tune.

"I was hungry," the courier protested. "And this asshole pulled a knife on me and wanted all of my caps. Probably more than that, if we're being honest. He wasn't doing the world any good, but he did me some, for sure."

ED-E flipped between old clips of a Silver Shroud radio show. "Well, isn't this a deep, dark <static> secret? <static> In a situation such as this, the best anyone can do is <static> try to control it!" The robot added some more concerned beeps for good measure.

"I'm trying," the courier said with a sigh, looking down at the dead man they were holding. "You know I wouldn't hurt some random person, ED-E. Not if I could help it. The Mojave's full of bad people, enough to keep me going if I'm careful."

Rex: The hair on Rex's spine stood up, and he let out a long, low growl. The courier froze for a moment, before realizing that he was growling not at them but at the man they were holding.

"He's dead, Rex," they reassured the cyberdog, lowering the corpse to the floor for inspection.

Rex sniffed the body over, taking in the copper scent of his blood and the Freeside stink on his clothes. He sniffed the courier too, each of their hands they held out to him and the thick headiness of adrenaline. He whined and wagged his tail twice.

"Good boy," the courier said, straightening up. "It's about time I turned in, anyway. Let's dump this guy and split."

Benny Gecko: Benny crossed his arms. "You know, Six, if you're dead set on getting your kicks in Freeside every now and then, you might want to ease up on the passions with the next greaser you snag. This one's torn all to pieces."

"I wasn't- what kind of-" The courier dropped the man they were holding and sputtered. "Christ, only you could make a midnight murder awkward, Benny."

"Murder?" Benny raised his eyebrows and looked from side to side theatrically. "Who said anything about a murder? All I saw was some dreamboat and the best apple butterer of New Vegas playing back alley bingo, officer."

The courier's eyes narrowed. "Not gonna rat me out? Tell the King or somebody that I'm..."

"What, taking a page out of the White Glove Society's book?" Benny held his hands up. "None of my business. Well, if you ever come for me with that look in your eyes, though, that'll be a different story."

"Not much you'd be able to do," the courier pointed out. "You already tried and failed to kill me once."

Ulysses: Rather than react like any normal wastelander might've upon encountering someone attacking a man with their teeth, Ulysses just stood there, taking the scene in. "Heard tales of a tribe like you. East, farther east than even I've walked... a coven hiding in tunnels, emerging only when their hungers grow too strong to ignore, strong enough to pull blood from the veins of the world around them."

"Well, I don't hide in tunnels." The courier grimaced and heaved their victim up over their shoulder, depositing them unceremoniously in the dumpster. "Unless some disgruntled Frumentarius sends me out to hunt mutants under Hopeville."

"Perhaps you have more in common with those predators than I assumed," Ulysses admitted. "But then, your path has always run red. Blood of the Old World, blood of the new, blood of the Bull and the Bear..."

The courier rolled their eyes as they peeled off their red-stained coat and tossed it in the dumpster as well. "Don't talk to me about blood. I know you've seen just as much as me, but it doesn't mean the same thing when I look at it."

Ulysses cracked a hint of a smile. "You see life where I see death. Two sides, courier."

"Yeah, yeah. If you're not going to try to kill me, come on. You can wax poetic and lecture me about which road I'm walking while I take a shower."

Joshua Graham: "A creature far from God," Graham said in his most reproachful tone. "Forever damned for the souls of the innocent they've taken from the earth. Aren't we a pair, courier."

"You can fuck right off with that attitude." The courier dropped the man they were holding and wiped their hands on their coat. "He tried to kill me first. For some caps."

"The crimes of others do not absolve you of your own sins, courier," Graham continued, leisurely retrieving his gun from its holster. He held it up in the muted neon light that filtered through the alley, turning the weapon this way and that. "Though I confess I am also looking for absolution in this way."

"Are you going to kill me?" the courier asked, eyeing the gun as well.

"I've no doubt it would leave this world better than when you walked it," Graham replied. "But my own opinions are not enough to seal your fate. Perhaps we should find this man's family and hear their feelings on the matter."

The courier took a step forward, then another, until their chest was right up against the pistol's muzzle, pressed against the fabric of their shirt. "Go ahead. Try."

And though Joshua Graham was sorely tempted to pull the trigger, though the courier made no move to stop him, something in their eyes... some faraway pain, older than the desert itself, fresh as the blood on the ground, stayed his hand.

He lowered the gun, chastised, and the courier walked away.

Robert House: The Securitron that bore Robert House's face on its screen leveled a minigun at the courier. "Whoa!" the courier protested, dropping their victim and putting their hands out. "Can't we talk about this?"

"And what have we to discuss?" House sounded absolutely disgusted. "I believe you're familiar with my contract with the White Glove Society. If they wish to continue their current prosperity in New Vegas, cannibalism is strictly forbidden. You are subject to the same terms and conditions, as one of my employees."

"Terms and condi- hold on, hold on, you never asked me whether I was a cannibal," the courier replied. "Are you talking about that document you had me sign, way back when I agreed to help you fight the NCR and the Legion?"

"The very same."

"How is that fair? That thing was over 200 pages long, I didn't grow up in the 21st century, I don't have a degree in... okay, okay." The courier waved their hands. "Cannibalism is a no-go. This isn't cannibalism, this is vampirism."

"Which falls under the definition of cannibalism," House replied, his annoyed tone still detectable over the sound of the minigun spinning up. "Section 3.65, subsection F. Next time, read the fine print."

Caesar: The Legion's great leader pivoted in an instant from surprise to quiet anger. "Clean yourself up, courier. I expect to see you in my quarters within the hour."

He turned and left the alley swiftly, letting his powerful stride and swinging cloak cover his shaken confidence. The people of Freeside cowered as he passed, shrinking into the shadows as he made his way back to the Strip, but the fear in their eyes was not enough to erase the image of the courier bent over in bloodlust, holding their victim in total subjugation.

The courier found him on the top floor of the Lucky 38, gazing out over the city he had conquered and named his Rome. "Leave us," Caesar bid his Praetorian Guard. They bowed and departed the room without question.

"You asked to see me," the courier said nervously, shifting their weight from foot to foot. They had changed clothes, and no trace of blood remained on them.

"I did." Caesar beckoned them to the window next to him. They stood in silence for a moment, watching the lights wink below.

"I'm a well-read man, courier," Caesar said finally. "I know the legends of the Old World, and I recognize the marks of one of their nightmares in you. I order you to tell me the truth: Do you fit the full definition of the creature they called 'vampire,' or do you simply mimic the things to add to your fearsome affect?"

The courier didn't answer right away. When they did, their voice was soft. "I pretend to be nothing. I am what I am."

"And everything that comes with it?" Caesar pressed. "Darkness, the blood of the innocent, eternity?"

"Yes."

Caesar turned to face them fully. "Then I, Almighty Caesar, command you to make me as you are."

Yes Man: "Now that's a twist I didn't see coming!" Yes Man said, his happy tone only slightly tempered with uncertainty. "Boy, am I glad I don't have a circulatory system right now!"

The courier shushed the Securitron and looked around the alley surreptitiously. "Yes Man, I swear to god, if you blow my cover I'm disassembling you."

"As I've told you before, I can't technically die!" Yes Man reassured them. "And I certainly wouldn't want to endanger you and your hobbies, but my volume mixer is tied to my enthusiasm simulator and I can't adjust it! You'll just have to hope any passersby aren't interested in following my friendly voice into an alley!"

"Then go back to the Lucky 38 and we'll talk later," the courier insisted, through gritted teeth.

"I technically never left! But if you mean this Securitron, sure thing!" Yes Man zoomed away on his single wheel, whistling the whole way back to the casino where the rest of his consciousness was housed. He kept whistling as he ran probability algorithms, only pausing when the courier returned after a few hours and crossed their arms in front of his main screen.

"Hi there!" he said joyfully. "I've just been cross-checking Mr. House's records on noteworthy disappearances in the Strip, and I've flagged eight of them as potentially being connected to you! I don't want to assume your intentions, but if you don't want to be found out, I've developed a plan for choosing your next victims that will help you remain undetected in New Vegas for 184 years! Give or take a few!"

The courier put their head in their hand and sighed.

[snackhobi]

pairing: jimin x reader / word count: 9.1k / genre: smut (NSFW, 18+)

summary: you wouldn’t mind your cute neighbour being such a shameless fuckboy if a) the walls weren’t so thin and b) he didn’t seem intent on adding you as another notch in his bedpost. 

but there’s only so much you can resist park jimin, especially once he gets that peach involved.

warnings: sexually explicit content, Jimin being completely shameless/a lowkey ho, messy peach eating, mentions of masturbation, oral sex (m + f receiving), overstimulation, protected sex, multiple orgasms (f), dirty talk and some cursing, hmm I think that’s it?

a/n: I was so close to calling this ‘jimin and the f*cking peach’ as some terrible homage to ‘james and the giant peach’ 😂🤧 as always I would like to thank @hobi-gif for beta reading this, putting up with me having a meltdown at her, and encouraging me to write smut at work rather than doing my job, ty queen xoxo

--

It’s official. Park Jimin is the neighbour from hell.

He’d tricked you, to start with. With those cherubic features, those doe eyes, and his cute little smile? He looks like an angel. A sweet, innocent angel, one who’d knocked shyly on your door and presented you with a small selection of chocolates when he’d moved into the apartment next to yours. Your heart had gone boom boom at the sight of that cute smile, the slip of teeth, the way his lovely face had scrunched up. 

Nowadays, whenever you see that face, you want to punch it.

Well. Not punch it. Maybe slap it a little. Because Park Jimin is a fiend. 

Your studio apartment is cheap for many reasons. The plumbing is creaky and the heating isn’t exactly great but those are small sacrifices for such low rent—ones you’re willing to make. Creaking doesn’t bother you and throw blankets exist for a reason, right? You get a balcony and a parking spot, which is more than you can say for a lot of other places in this price range, so you’ll take the negatives for these positives.

But you’d give up all the things you love about this cheap flat for some sound proofing.

Because Park Jimin fucks. 

A lot. 

He’d been nothing but lovely for the first few weeks. You’d barely been aware of his existence, minus when you could hear him in the bathroom—your flats are mirrored, rooms sharing walls, so you’d been washing your face when you’d heard his shower start up and then the sound of his dulcet tones drifting through the wall. That had actually been really nice; Jimin can hit some high notes, and it had been a pleasant backdrop as you’d cleansed your face. It had been another bullet point you’d added to the list of things you thought were cute about him (along with his face, his laugh, his smile), and you’d stupidly started to develop a tiny little crush on this boy-next-door, thinking him some soft, kind thing.

But then he’d started to have people over.

You’ve lost count of how many days you’ve had to listen to the moans and gasps that echo through your walls. You can’t escape from it. As a freelance programmer, you’re pretty much always working from home, so it’s not like you can get away from the sounds of pleasure that shudder through Jimin’s flat and into your own.

It’s never consistent, either. There’s not a single hour of the day that’s off limits to Park Jimin. Morning, afternoon, night; the boy is always ready to go, apparently. And judging from the sounds through the walls? He never leaves anyone unsatisfied either.

Which, like, fine. People fuck. You get it. You’re not judging. You just wish it wasn’t so loud. You have to sleep, for God’s sake. But it’s not like you can knock on a new neighbour’s door and be like hey, I appreciate you have an incredibly active sex life, but can you keep it down, please?

So you’d bit your tongue. You’d gritted your teeth to bear it. You’d still smile at Jimin if you ever passed in the hallway, acknowledged him with a small nod, exchanged pleasantries, all the neighbourly stuff that you’d do with anyone. You’d just invested in some good earplugs and thought that was it.

And then Jimin had started doing his morning yoga routine outside. 

You start each day with a cup of tea on your balcony, watering your hydrangeas and enjoying the dawn sun that lifts up over the horizon alongside your plants. It’s a small, singular moment of quiet in an otherwise dull day and you treasure that serenity.

Well. Treasured. Past tense. Because Jimin has invaded this part of your life, too.

The first time Jimin had unrolled his yoga mat on the balcony adjacent to yours, he’d been dressed in a deceptively unassuming outfit—a loose white t-shirt and leggings that hugged every inch of his calves and thighs and shapely ass, which you had pointedly Not Looked At. He’d tilted his head at you with a smug little smile flickering at the edge of his lips, and when he’d greeted you good morning, you’d responded in turn, even if you were still annoyed at how he’d interrupted your afternoon nap the day before with the sound of his headboard smacking into the wall repeatedly. You were still fairly new neighbours and you still felt like you had to be polite, even if he was starting to fray your nerves.

And then he’d started to bend. 

Now, you’ll be the first to admit that you don’t know much about yoga. But you’d swear Jimin was choosing poses that did the utmost to display his flexibility, the flex of his muscles and twist of his limbs, balancing his body on his arms before easing into a pose that had him bent in two, head towards his toes—and with how he had his back to you this meant you got full glimpse of his ass, straining against his leggings, the way his loose shirt slipped up his body to reveal the lines of his stomach and chest, how his face was still twisted into that little smirk even if it was upside down.

Staring at you.

You’d promptly stopped watering your hydrangeas and walked inside your flat, shutting the sliding door behind you.

Jimin is relentless.

He’s pretty and he knows it. All that shy, new-kid-on-the-block innocence he’d had initially is completely gone, and all he does is flirt, flirt, flirt. He winks at you. Stands a little too close whenever you talk. Lets his eyes flicker down to your lips, trail over every inch of you, lashes fluttering when he catches you watching, unashamed and unabashed. He frequently just… hangs around on his balcony. Not topless, no, but he may as well be, his thotty muscle tees doing nothing to hide him from your eyes.

(The worst thing, though, is when you catch him unawares. When he’s tired and clearly not expecting you to be awake, too, his eyes sleepy and his hair ruffled; a little vulnerable, a lot softer than he usually presents himself. Curled up on the small seat on his balcony with a hot drink in his hand, phone in the other, his screen throwing blue-tinted light over the easing lines of his features.

You wish Jimin was like that all the time. But the second he sees you, his eyes flicker, and his brows lift, and his mouth curls, and once again you rue the day you had a fuckboy move in next door to you.)

It’s not that Jimin isn’t hot. It’s not that you wouldn’t fuck him, either. But you have no interest in being some sort of convenient hook-up for him, purely there by circumstance, fate, whatever you want to call it. You dread to think of him sending you haha wyd x texts whenever he feels like having sex and you just happen to be nearby. So you weather all of his obvious come-ons and swerve him something chronic, even if he seems intent on making his attraction to you obvious.

You’ve been managing it for months. But as time goes on, your patience wears thinner and thinner, an atom-thick layer of fortitude the only thing keeping you from grabbing Park Jimin and kissing him and/or killing him. It doesn’t help that you haven’t fucked for a while now, and you’re reminded of this every time you hear another pornstar moan through the wall (the people Jimin brings home seem to like hamming it up for effect), every time you see another mosaic of hickeys laid across the column of Jimin’s gorgeous throat, every time you see the way his yoga outfits do nothing to protect the delicious shape of his body from your eyes.

You dig your fingers into your palms. It’s fine. It’s okay. You can handle Park Jimin and his overt sexual energy, oozing out of him almost every second of every day.

It’s a little harder to handle how he still seems sweet despite his fuckboy nature. How he picks your parcels up for you. How he lets you use his laundry detergent when you run out. How he lets you keep food in his fridge when yours breaks down and you have to wait for a replacement. How he sheds that fuckboy facade whenever it seems like you genuinely need help, how you’ve heard his soft phone calls through the wall, to his friends, his family, sweet and kind and supportive.

Park Jimin is a multi-dimensional being, for sure, and maybe you sometimes wish he was actually genuinely interested in you as a person and not as a lay, so you could peel back those layers to the lovely core at the centre of his being.

But it’s fine. You can handle this stupid yearning and pining. You can handle the knowledge that Park Jimin is a genuine gentleman who just happens to like fucking, is open in his desire for it, and is apparently Very Good at it. It’s difficult, but you can do it.

You can do it.

The date you set up with someone from Tinder ends up being disappointing and lacklustre. You’d escaped before dessert, unable to put up with one more second of this asshole going on and on about stocks, and investments, and trading, or whatever, cursing the day you’d decided to swipe on him. You’re so sick of your luck (or lack thereof) with guys. (At least the food had been nice.)

Of course Jimin sees you schlepping your way back into your apartment, disappointment obvious in the line of your shoulders and lips; it doesn’t take a genius to clock your date outfit, cute as it is, makeup and hair soft. But the night has barely begun and here you are, stepping back into your flat. Alone. 

“Bad date?” Jimin asks, voice gentle, and you just snort.

“Just like the rest of them,” you reply with a small sigh, before shutting your door quietly behind you, missing the look on your neighbour’s face.

Jimin, to his credit, eases off after this. You’re not sure if it’s due to a misplaced sense of pity or something, but even if he still smiles and flirts lightly with you, it’s less… salacious. Still there, still obvious, just a little softer. You hate how this has you feeling grateful towards him, because he’s still got so many fuckboy tendencies that it should outweigh this gentler side of his flirtation, but your traitorous heart still goes gooey every time Jimin smiles at you.

But then. 

But then.

There’s that fucking peach.

You’re just chilling on your balcony, sipping at a glass of lemonade in the warmth of the afternoon when you hear Jimin’s door sliding open. You flick your eyes over at the sound, watching the way Jimin slips out onto his own balcony, how he throws something up in the air and catches it with ease, a flick of the wrist, a curl of the fingers each time he catches it again.

He hasn’t had any fuckbuddies over for a while. A few weeks, almost a month. It’s the longest Jimin’s gone without having sex for as long as he’s started having people over and you’d been sort of concerned. Which, yeah, you know it sounds super weird when you think about it, especially considering how much you complain about Jimin to your friends—help, my fuckboy neighbour hasn’t fucked anyone in nearly a month so I’m worried if his dick has fallen off or something.

(Well, actually, you know his dick is still attached, based off the little gasps and moans he lets out whenever he pleasures himself in lieu of fucking someone else. You’ll take this secret to the grave but those noises that Jimin lets out have been the melody you use to reach your own peaks, although you’re a lot quieter than he is whenever you touch yourself, biting your lip and muffling the wet sounds of your fingers thrusting into your cunt under layers of blankets. You’d never give Jimin the satisfaction of knowing that the mental image of him fucking into his fist and cumming over his stomach and chest is what throws you over your own edge, toe-curling orgasms that shake through your body in time with Jimin’s own.)

Anyway. He looks loose limbed and relaxed when he saunters into view, utterly unsurprised by your presence behind your window box of hydrangeas, giving you his usual, sultry smile. 

He’s started to ramp up his flirtations again. This smirk is one which you’ve learned not to respond to. You just stare levelly back at him, unimpressed as you start to water your flowers, which does nothing to dissuade him. It never does. He clearly revels in the challenge.

Jimin keeps his eyes locked with yours as he lifts his hand to his lips. You catch a glimpse of what he was throwing and catching—a ripe, flush peach, tiny droplets of water shimmering on its fuzz, freshly washed.

And then he starts to eat it.

The peach yields immediately to the press of his teeth. Juice bursts out of its softness, running down his lips, his chin; he makes no moves to wipe it away, the lewd sound of his slurps as he curls his tongue into the fruit, messy and sweet.

It’s shameless. He’s shameless. His gaze is unwavering as he stares at you, his mouth glistening with the peach’s juices, the only sound the wet smack of his lips and tongue as he licks up the honeyed liquid that drips from his skin, curving around the fruit as he swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing.

Water’s been trickling from your small can onto the hydrangeas, cascading over the plants; the soil is waterlogged now, but you haven’t noticed, fixated on the way Jimin is looking at you as he wantonly eats out this peach.

Drip drip, goes the watering can.

Drip drip, goes the peach.

By the time there’s nothing more than the pit in his hand, Jimin is a mess. His fingers and mouth and chin shine with peach juice, eyes dark and heavy as he watches the way you drink the sight of him in, the way his tongue slowly drags over his full lips, catching the sweetness that lingers.

The second he puts his tongue to his fingers to get the stickiness on them, that’s it. You watch the way he sucks his fingers into his mouth and promptly put the watering can down and turn on your heel to walk inside, slamming the balcony door shut behind you.

You’re done. You’re only human. You’ve spent months with Jimin parading himself in front of you, seen the way he contorts his body every morning in an unnecessarily complex sun salutation, listened to the way his voice rises when he cums; the peach is the metaphorical cherry on top, and you’re just. Over. It. 

You hammer your palms against your neighbour's door, rap-rap-rapping on the wood, your blood rising and your heart thudding in your chest, every part of you tense, wound up, pent up. The door swings open to reveal Jimin, his chin still slick with sweet peach, lips curling up in a self-satisfied smile when he sees you.

“Park Jimin.” Your voice shakes and you hate yourself for it, hate the way Jimin’s eyes glitter at the sound, the little hitch in your breath. “You are a fucking menace, you know that?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says. He leans against the doorframe, effortlessly gorgeous, hip cocked, head tilted. He lifts his hand, and there’s a heavy moment of tension as you watch him slowly swipe a thumb over the last remnant of juice on his chin, before his tongue lolls out of his mouth and he licks the final taste of peach from his fingers.

When you grab hold of his collar his expression shifts from something coy into something far more self satisfied, months of his brazen come-ons finally culminating in this—you, shoving him backwards into his apartment, kicking the door shut behind you.

“I swear,” you say. “I swear to God—”

“You swear? I can think of better things you could be doing with your mouth,” Jimin says, and then laughs when you scowl at him. “Damn, you’re so hot when you’re mad.”

“You are infuriating,” you bite out, and Jimin just laughs again, his whole body shaking, every part of him still loose and relaxed even as you continue to tighten your grip on his clothing, feeling every motion of his body under your hands. You hate how pretty he is, even now, utterly unafraid of your frustration—the brightness of his eyes and his smile, that undercurrent to it all, the way his hands slide so smoothly around your waist, your hips, sliding down to grope at your ass.

“I know,” he agrees, still giggling, and then he kisses you.

Jimin dives straight in, no holds barred, and you immediately melt into putty under his touch. He lets out a hum of satisfaction into your mouth as your hands go lax and slide down his chest. You can still taste the peach on his lips, his tongue, licking into his mouth.

You’ve thought about this mouth more times than you’d like to admit: the full swell of his lips, the little curve of his cupid’s bow, how it’d feel pressed against your own, and honestly? It’s so much better than you’d let yourself imagine it to be.

He nips at your bottom lip before soothing it with his tongue, and you bite off a gasp when he pulls you forward, grinding against you. You shudder. Jimin’s mouth is a pleased curve against your own before he pulls away, murmuring in your ear in a voice that’s equal parts sultry and sweet.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, kissing the sensitive skin of your jaw just under your earlobe, making you shiver. “Just relax. You’re always so tense.”

“Maybe that’s because my neighbour keeps me up all night,” you say, but your voice is weak, no strength behind your words, breath stolen out of you at the way Jimin starts to trail his lips down your neck, across your throat. “I find that constantly getting my sleep interrupted—oh, oh—”

Jimin sucks at the hollow of your neck, the delicate skin there so sensitive to his touch, the warmth of his lips magnified, every nerve ending alight with pleasure. Your hands have slid into his hair and you unintentionally tighten your grasp, fingers tugging at his dark locks, and Jimin bares his teeth against your skin.

It’s maybe a little embarrassing how wet you are just from a little making out. But after months of Jimin teasing you and putting you on edge, coupled with how long it’s been since you've had sex? You’re allowed to be a little desperate. All the small frustrations you were about to voice die on your tongue, slipping away from you as Jimin starts to walk you backwards with a confidence that shows just how often he’s done this—leading people to his bed, never taking his hands off you.

By the time Jimin eases you to lie down, you feel breathless. He hovers above you with that satisfied smile flickering at the edge of his lips, taking in the sight of you, finally underneath him—lips kiss swollen, exquisite, all the sharp words on your tongue softened and gone, goosebumps trailing down your skin. You tug at his collar, which catches him off guard; he sways forward and almost hits his face against yours, but before he can spend too long looking smug at your desperation you capture his lips again. You melt into the mattress, hooking a foot over his calf and revelling in the weight of him between your legs, your hips flush, and how hard he’s getting through those stupidly tight leggings of his.

When he grinds against you, the outline of his cock pressed up against your cunt, an embarrassing whine leaves your lips and trembles against Jimin’s own. Jimin goes still before pulling away from the open-mouthed kiss and when you see the expression on his face you slap a hand over your mouth, burning with shame.

“Oh.” He sounds delighted. “You’re noisy, huh?”

“Shut up,” you say, though your words are muffled against your palm. He grinds down again, a slow and deep roll of his hips that lets you feel how hard he is, and a noise shudders out the back of your throat, audible around your hand.

“It’s hot.” There’s that little smirk on Jimin’s lovely lips, every inch of him dripping self confidence. He knows how you’re entirely at his mercy, in spite of your words; your voice is weak. “You’re normally so quiet.”

“Some of us try to be considerate and think about our neighbours.”

Jimin just smiles, pulling your hand away from your mouth before gently kissing your palm, a motion that’s surprisingly tender and makes you pause. 

“Trust me.” His voice is low. “I do think about my neighbour.”

Your breath hitches when he slides his free hand under your shirt, trailing his fingers over the softness of your stomach. He pulls the fabric up, letting his gaze rove over the bared skin. The way Jimin looks at you makes you feel like you’re the only woman in the world, like he’s never seen anyone prettier.

You wonder if he looks at his other fuckbuddies like this.

The thought slides away from you as Jimin dips his head and starts to kiss your throat again. You tilt your head back as his lips trail across the soft skin, his hands coming to rest under your breasts, contained as they are by your bra; once he coaxes you to sit up, it only takes him a few moments to strip your upper body, kneeling between your spread legs as he starts to trail his hands over the parts of you that are now bared to him.

“Pretty,” he says. You’d roll your eyes if he didn’t sound so reverent, and also if you weren’t distracted by the way he flicks his thumbs over your hardening nipples, your core clenching as he does, biting your lip to stop yourself from making a sound. A frown flits across Jimin’s face and he lifts one of those thumbs away from your breast, dragging your lip away from your teeth, letting his grasp linger so your lips are parted. “Don’t do that. I've been waiting for months to hear you properly.”

Before you can reply, he kisses you again, licking into your mouth and swallowing down the noise you make when he drags his hand between the valley of your breasts, down your stomach and settling between your legs, running his fingers over your cunt, the feeling dulled by layers of fabric even though he presses with intent. Your hips jolt at the sensation, and Jimin repeats the motion, dragging the fabric across your flushed lips.

“Jimin.” Your voice is a gasp against his mouth, and you can’t keep the pleading out of your tone, desperation bleeding into every letter of your words. “Please.”

He just hums, sounding pleased, and a breath of surprise escapes you as he pushes you back against the pillows. He wastes no time in getting to his prize, drawing a scattered constellation of kisses that trail across your chest, your nipples, your stomach, the line of your hip bones as you lift up so he can pull your shorts and underwear off. You’re entirely naked underneath him, bare and wet, cunt flushed and shining, and Jimin groans at the sight.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, fingers digging into your thighs as he pulls your legs wider. Your cheeks burn as Jimin stares at your pussy, but you can’t help but feel a pulse of self-satisfaction at the visible twitch of his cock in his stupid yoga leggings. “You’re so wet.”

You should probably feel embarrassed, but by now you’ve thrown all your previous inhibition to the winds. You’ve ended up somewhere you’d privately sworn you were never going to—in Park Jimin’s bed, leaned up against his pillows, laid out for him to touch and take and have, every inch of you desperate for it. There’s nothing in your brain or body but arousal and need. So instead of letting out a snip of a remark you just cant your hips towards him, another pleading sound slipping from your lips.

He gives you what you want. He dips his head and trails his lips and tongue down, down, down, wet and hot, until they press against your cunt. He looks at you with the same hooded eyes as earlier, motions of his mouth an echo of his peach eating, sloppy and messy; he’s unabashed in the way he slides his mouth over you, lips slick and tongue hot, sliding over every sensitive inch—sucking your clit, licking your folds, burying his face between your legs and drinking up every sweet drip of your juices. 

You can’t help but make noise. Small gasps that slide into moans of pleasure, hitches in your breath that make your chest jump and your breasts shake; Jimin lets out noises too, muffled against your cunt, sounds that let you know he’s enjoying himself almost as much as you. It’s honestly pretty fucking hot, the way your own pleasure seems to turn him on, how he chases that feeling, eyes blown as he takes in every one of your reactions, repeating the motions that are affecting you the most.

The sight of him between your legs has you tensing. He continues to stare up at you, the curve of your stomach when you bow towards him, the fall of your breasts, which he slides his hands over, cupping them in his palms, pinching your hardened buds, layering sensation on sensation, never taking his mouth off you.

When he presses one finger inside, and then another, both thrusting firm and deep as he mouths at your clit, you tangle a hand into his hair. He watches the way your hips jump from the sensation of his tongue directly on your clit, and does it again, and again, your voice crescendoing from the explosion of sensation, how it’s too much, before he circles his lips around it and sucks messily. Your brain registering nothing but his lips and tongue against you, the hands that are trailing up and down your sides and still skimming across your breasts.

You’re not even aware of the words that are falling from your lips, oh fuck, yes, Jimin, there, oh, the way your grasp tightens in his dark hair, your hips bucking against his mouth as you can feel your orgasm approaching. The pleasure keeps building, flames fanning brighter and brighter as Jimin buries his mouth even further in between your legs, fingers speeding up as you gasp.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop,” you chant, voice getting higher. “I’m gonna cum, I’m cumming, oh—”

Your words slide into a moan as your back arches and your thighs tighten around Jimin’s head and you cum. Jimin continues to finger fuck you through it, your cunt pulsating around him as he keeps licking and sucking at your clit, his gaze fixed on your face as your eyes squeeze shut and your mouth falls open and every line of your body sings of the pleasure that Jimin has given to you. Even when your legs and hips start to jolt from oversensitivity and you cry out at each ripple of his tongue against you, he’s relentless, almost cruel in how he watches you writhe from a mixture of pain and overextended pleasure.

You're sobbing by the time Jimin pulls his mouth away from your cunt, tears pooling in the corner of your eyes, body shaking as you try to suck in air. He thrusts his fingers into you one more time, slow and deep, watching the way you turn your head into the pillow and muffle a gasp against it. 

“I knew you'd look and sound gorgeous when you cum,” he says, and though you feel boneless from your post-orgasm high, you can’t help a little huff escaping your lips. Jimin clearly catches the sound, quiet as it is against the linen of his pillowcase, and takes your chin in his hand to turn his face towards you. His fingers are slick with your arousal, wet against your skin.

“You sound like you’re reading off the script to a porno,” you murmur.

One of his eyebrows arches. “Oh? You don’t think I’m just speaking my mind?” Those fingers move away from your chin and trace over the swell of your bottom lip; you let your mouth fall open and swallow them down, licking the taste of yourself off Jimin’s skin. “You don’t think that I’ve been thinking about how pretty you’d look as I fucked into you, begging for me to let you cum again and again?”

Your tongue stutters against his fingers and your core clenches at his words, the dark undercurrent underneath them, and Jimin’s expression shifts as he notices.

“You really have no idea, do you?” He runs his fingertips over your tastebuds, saliva starting to pool in your mouth, the slide so wet and messy. “Who do you think I picture whenever I touch myself? Who do you think I was wishing was in my bed every time I took someone else home?”

You nip at his fingers, running the edge of your teeth along his knuckles from equal parts surprise and disbelief at his words. You find it impossible to believe that he really means that, but then you realise—recently, on the few occasions you’d bumped into Jimin in the hall when he’d had one of his lays trailing behind him, for as different and unique each of them was, each one of them had shared some sort of trait with you. Hair colour, eyes, the set of their lips, the shape of their face; once, you’d heard a girl giggling through the wall before it had trailed off into a moan, and you’d done a literal double take at how much she’d sounded like you. Similar, but not exactly the same, a slightly off-tone echo of the sound that spills from your own lips whenever you laugh.

And the emptiness in his bed had only started after the night that he’d seen the way you’d trailed into your apartment with discontent heavy around your shoulders, disappointed at that awful Tinder date.

Oh, fuck.

“You’re shameless,” you say, words a little garbled around Jimin’s fingers, but you know he understands.

“No, I’m not,” he replies, a small smirk curling up the corner of his lips. It should be illegal: the way he has such soft features that can turn so quickly into something sharper and entirely sensual, eyes hooded, lips flushed, the column of his throat so lovely and graceful as he tilts his head to one side. “I just know what I want and don’t try to hide it. What’s shameless about that? I know you want me too, but you always deny yourself the things you want. Don’t you?”

You hate that you’ve been so transparent in your attraction to him. Because the truth of the matter is that for as much as Jimin frustrates you with his entire existence, you do want him. After all—you wouldn’t be naked underneath him, still trembling from the aftershocks of a deep orgasm, if you didn’t.

“You’re not always as quiet as you think, you know,” he adds, pulling his fingers out of your mouth and enjoying the way your eyes widen at his words. You thought he couldn’t hear you through the wall, but it seems like you were wrong.

Before you can say anything in reply, though, he grinds down. Without your clothes in the way you can feel the drag of his yoga pants against your cunt, how the wetness of your cum and Jimin’s spit soaks into the fabric, his hard cock hot, and you let out a whine. He still has yet to remove any of his clothes and you want to  see them off so he’s finally naked. You’ve seen enough of his bare skin over the months to have a pretty good idea of what that looks like, but you want to see the real thing.

Jimin seems just as eager to shed his clothes, yielding to your grasping hands and carelessly throwing his top aside; you end up straddling his waist and kissing down his chest in an imitation of his motions earlier, letting your fingers trail over the lean muscle from his yoga and dance. When you tongue at one of his nipples and he gasps, you feel euphoric. He’s unfairly beautiful, from the lovely collarbones to the flex of his shoulders and arms and the line of his chest and stomach, delicate and somehow entirely masculine. You still sort of want to slap him, but settle with kissing the hollow of his neck instead, digging your fingers into his ribs as you roll your hips down against him.

His own hips buck up. You can tell that he’s desperate to be inside you, but you want to taste him first. 

When you slide down his body and settle between his legs, you hook your fingers into the tight waistband of those stupid leggings and tug them down. Jimin hisses through his teeth as you let the material settle just under his hips, baring the top of his briefs to you, how his cock strains against them, the patch of wetness at the head, darkening the fabric.

You don’t strip him. Not completely. You just hook your fingers into those dark blue briefs and pull them down just enough to reveal the flushed head of his cock, wet with precum. You let your tongue flick out to catch that salty bitterness, and Jimin bites off a curse at the almost shy licks you start to lave across his slit, circling around the weeping head.

Hearing Jimin’s gasps without the wall in the way is honestly an experience. Before, whenever he had people over, they usually drowned him out, theatrical wails and groans overpowering his far more natural noises, but now there’s nothing to prevent you from hearing the way his breath hitches in his throat or the way he moans. Even the smallest things have him letting slip sounds, a noise escaping him as you coax him to lift his hips so you can finally, finally peel those leggings and briefs off, dragging over the hardness of his cock as you do. You want to take in the sight of him fully naked, give it the proper attention it deserves, but then you feel his cock throb in your hand and you can’t stop yourself from immediately lowering your mouth to it again.

His whole body shudders. You let your jaw fall open as you take him in, tongue curling around him, hands touching every part of him that isn’t in your mouth, making sure there’s no part of  him that isn’t receiving attention. His eyes are wide under the mess of his fringe, hair falling over his forehead as he watches the way you run your lips down the side of his cock before sucking one of his balls into your mouth, circling his length with your hands, a twisting rise and fall in the motion as you drink down the noise of surprised pleasure that drops from his lips.

Jimin’s fingers have been tangled in your hair but he lets you control the flow. The sounds of you swallowing him down into your mouth as you bob your head are obscene, wet and messy, but you can still hear how his voice starts to rise, how his fingers tighten against your scalp, and you know he’s close when he tugs you upwards and drags your lips away from his cock. 

Jimin pulls you towards him and you settle against his chest as you start to kiss again, shivering at the way he rolls his tongue in your mouth. This time when Jimin rolls his hips, there’s nothing between your skin and his, dragging the underside of his cock across your flushed lower lips, the slide between your folds and against your clit making you shiver.

“Condoms?” 

You’re breathless, and Jimin quirks a smile at you.

“Top drawer,” he answers. Of course they would be, in easy reach whenever he needs them. 

You lean forwards to reach for the bedside table and Jimin takes the opportunity to circle a hand around your breast and capture a nipple in his mouth, ignoring the way you bite back a surprised noise, staring up at you with almost innocent eyes as he sucks at your skin in the way he’s worked out that you like best. Your hands are a fumble as you pull a condom out of the pack, ripping the sachet away from the others, a bottle of lube rolling into your grasp. You try to focus on your task and not the sensation of Jimin switching attention to your other breast, cupping the swell of flesh in his hand and drawing his teeth gently across your skin.

“You’re insatiable,” you mutter, and Jimin laughs before he kisses between your breasts. 

“I’ve been wanting to fuck you since we first met,” he says, utterly unrepentant. “I don't want to take my mouth off you.”

“Insatiable,” you repeat, but you’re flustered. Even if you know he’s not lying, and you’re naked and straddling his hips, the taste of his lips and cock now familiar on your tongue, it’s… kind of incredible to think that the gorgeous Park Jimin has been lusting after you for that long. 

Or lusting after you at all, really.

But as you tear the foil of the condom, the look he levels at you is burning with desire, roaming over you, every inch of your nakedness, every movement of your body. His hands rest at your waist, thumbs rubbing over your skin as you hold his cock in one hand and roll the condom down with the other, letting your fingers circle his length, dragging your touch over the heat of him and revelling in the way he twitches. As much as you’ve thought of Jimin as a fuckboy, you know that he wouldn’t lie just to get someone in his bed, so as unbelievable as his words are, every single one of his actions backs up what he’s said: he wants you.

You don't notice how soft his gaze is as you take time to warm the lube in your hands, even though you’re desperate to feel him finally slide home. You've always been so considerate, even when he knows you've been frustrated at him, and that's evident now, in this small thing.

You spread the warmed lube over his covered cock, pumping it in your hand to get him slick and ready, loving the way he hisses though his teeth. He has to stop his hips from bucking up as you line his cockhead up with your entrance, his fingers digging into your sides as you hover in place.

“Come on,” Jimin urges. “Give it to me.”

“Insatiable,” you repeat, one last time, then you bend your knees.

You finally ease yourself down and onto his cock. You both let out moans; Jimin, finally feeling the wet heat of you around him, and you, falling into the sensation of him stretching you open, snug inside you, slowly splitting you open as you take him in, inch by inch, until you’re sitting on his hips and he’s fully buried in your cunt.

It’s been a while since you’ve had someone inside you. You grind downwards, rolling your hips, biting your lip at the sensation. Jimin’s chest expands as he sucks in a sharp breath, and you roll your hips again, a hand bracing on one of his lovely, thick thighs, the other resting just under his stomach as you lean back and arch your spine. You lift your hips, easy and slow, and then fall, Jimin’s cock dragging and pressing against your inner walls, a gasp shuddering out of your lips at the electric feeling.

Again and again, noises of pleasure drip from your mouth as you ride him, head tilting back at the sensations rippling through your body and across your skin, the apartment full of the sounds of your sex—the moans, the wet thrust of Jimin’s cock into your cunt, the praise that falls from his lips, months of feeling pouring from his lips. How pretty you are, how gorgeous, how well you’re taking his cock, how wet and tight you are around him; all the things he’s been thinking about, come to life, his hips snapping into yours as a sharp cry cuts through your lips at the sudden change of pace.

The pleasure’s been steadily building between your legs again, warm and unrushed, but then Jimin flips you without warning, fluid and graceful. Your eyes are wide as you end up on your back, Jimin’s hands braced either side of your head as he looks down at you with those dark, dark eyes of his. He thrusts forwards and your hands fly up to grab at him, your entire body shifting up the mattress at the force of his movements. His eyebrows are drawn together as he starts to drive himself into you, unapologetic in how aggressive he’s being, each thrust pushing the air out of your lungs in harried little gasps that shake the air between you.

The sound of his headboard slamming into the wall, a noise that’s been haunting you each time you’ve been trying to sleep or relax, is one you don’t even register. All you can think about is Jimin, Jimin, Jimin, caught up in the way there’s sweat beading across his forehead, strands of his dark hair sticking to it, the intense look in his eyes, the way his full lips are parted, small ah-ah-ahs falling from his lips in time with his thrusts, your body tightening around him each time he slides home.

You can’t remember the last time you were fucked this good. Jimin reads the language of your body with ease, knowing exactly when to lean back and trail a hand over your hips, circling his thumb over your swollen clit, the slide over that bundle of nerves messy from the mix of cum and lube and spit that’s laid slick across you. Each fluid roll of his hips is perfectly timed with the press of his thumb, your thighs going tense and your pussy clenching around Jimin’s hot cock as you start to reach another peak of pleasure.

“Cum for me, baby.” Jimin sounds breathless. “Let me see how pretty you are when you cum around my cock.”

Normally dirty talk seems so ham-handed and stuttering, but the words fall out of Jimin’s lips  as natural as breathing, thoughtless. Stirring your arousal even further. He’s gripping your hips, pulling you down each time he presses up, and you circle your fingers around his wrist as his other hand is occupied with rubbing at your most sensitive part, tightening your hold as you feel another orgasm approaching.

“Jimin.” Your voice is a keen. “I'm so close, please, there, right there, theretherethere—”

You can't blame Jimin's other partners for being so noisy. The sound you let out is just as loud, maybe even louder, Jimin continuing to snap his hip forwards as you cum hard, a drawn out moan that crescendos as you pulsate around Jimin's cock, still hard inside you. He watches the way you writhe beneath him, tangling his fingers with yours when you reach for him and swallowing the end of your moan in a surprisingly sweet kiss, his lips gentle against yours as he slows to a stop before you become too sensitive.

Your voice is a quiet murmur against his lips. “How have you not cum yet?”

His eyes squeeze into a smile as he laughs, light and bright, the sound so sweet. “I've got stamina for days, darling,” he says, oozing that trademark arrogance you’ve gotten used to.

You clench as hard as you can around him and feel smug when he bites off a shocked curse, his smug facade broken. You can’t help but laugh at his expression, scandalised at it is, though your giggle cuts into a gasp when he pinches one of your nipples and then soothes it with his thumb. He seems amused by the look on your face and then laughs in turn, the two of you dissolving into laughter that’s edged with pleasure, your motions shifting his length inside you.

When the laughter trails off, Jimin stays smiling down at you. You draw your hands over his body, tracing all that smooth skin, and he touches the back of your hands with gentle fingers. There's a beat of silence but it's not an uncomfortable one, the air light after your shared giggles. It's… really nice. It's nice and soft and sweet, just like the expression on Jimin's face, tender, even if he's still buried inside you.

You feel so empty when he slips out, already missing the thickness of his cock when it seems as though he’s about to coax you to roll onto your front. Your hands are still linked with his and you tighten your fingers, making him pause.

“I want to see your face,” you confess quietly. It’s probably too much to ask of him but you feel like if you’re turned away from each other then you’ll feel like nothing more than a fucktoy. Just another warm body in Jimin’s bed. You don’t want that.

Jimin stares at you, surprise written across his features before his expression softens. 

"Okay, baby," he murmurs indulgently. The small pet name sounds so sweet in his mouth. "We can stay like this."

He lets your hands go so that he can reach for a pillow that ends settled under your ass, tilting your hips up towards him. You’re not as flexible as he is—maybe you should start doing yoga too—but Jimin doesn’t push you far, hitching your legs up and draping your calves over his shoulders, leaning towards you so that the back of your thighs are warm against his chest. He's bent forward, face hovering above yours, so much skin-on-skin contact that your entire body feels warmed by him.

When he slides back in, you can feel the change in angle immediately. The head of his cock brushes over your g-spot and you suck in a sharp breath; Jimin notices, of course, aiming to hit it again, and again.

It feels good, of course. Amazing. But as much as you’d be happy for Jimin to make you cum again, you’d rather see him fall apart. 

You dig your nails into his shoulder blades, turning your head so you can press kisses along the line of his jaw, murmuring into his ear.

“Are you going to let me see you cum?” 

Jimin’s hips stutter as your words curl out of your mouth, warm against his skin. You’ve been picturing Park Jimin’s o-face for an endless amount of weeks and you’re ready to finally see the real thing.

“Cum on me,” you say, and then choke in a sob of air as Jimin responds with a sharp snap of his hips. “I want you to cum on me, Jimin, please.”

Your begging is shameless and you know it. Jimin’s face is so close to yours in this position and you can see how blown his pupils are, how his mouth is flushed from your kisses and how he’s been biting at them, his teeth digging into his lip as he starts to get faster, sloppier in his thrusts. It feels so good to know that you’re making him feel like this, that he’s reaching the peak of his pleasure with his body against yours, inside you, above you; he might have had other people in this position in the past, but right now it’s you who’s making Park Jimin come apart. 

You urge him onwards with large, pleading eyes, rocking down on his cock each time he thrusts forward, begging the whole time. Pleading for him to cum, to give it to you, to cover you. Jimin obviously likes you loud and desperate, and you're more than willing to give him what he wants.

He slips out of you, fumbling with the condom and carelessly tossing it aside before he starts to pump his cock, hungry to reach his peak as he fucks into his fist. You let your legs fall open as you watch the way his body tenses, his brows drawn together and little breaths falling out of his mouth, barely audible over the wet slide of his cock in his hand. You run your hands over your body, across the swell of your breasts, down your stomach, dipping between your legs, trying to look as arousing as possible, anything to throw Jimin over the edge.

"I've imagined you cumming for months," you confess, words thoughtlessly falling from your lips. "On me, inside me, in my mouth—"

Park Jimin’s o-face is just as gorgeous as the rest of him.

You love how noisy he is. He paints your stomach with his cum, ropes of white spattering across the soft skin of your stomach and hips as he rides out his orgasm, moaning as he continues to milk his twitching cock. It’s so fucking hot, honestly, as is the expression on his face when you swipe your fingers through his cum and lift it to your lips, mouth filled with salt and warm.

“Fuck.” He’s breathless, panting. “You’re unbelievable.”

You let out a small scoff, but it’s edged with affection. “Says the man who was ready to fuck me six ways to Sunday,” you say. “If anyone’s the unbelievable one here, it’s you.”

“I can last longer, but you’re just so hot,” Jimin says. You respond by curling your fingers at him, beckoning him towards you, and you end up sharing a series of messy kisses. 

You were, honestly, genuinely angry when you'd stepped into his apartment earlier, even if that irritation had been rounded out with arousal and desire. Now, though, you feel thoroughly boneless and content, loose limbed on Jimin's mattress, his lips and tongue moving against your own.

He leans too far forwards and smears his own cooling cum against his stomach. He doesn’t seem bothered, though. You’re the one who has to coax him to clean up, though with the way he looks at your still naked body, you know he would happily launch straight into a second round of fucking so he can add more cum to the canvas of your skin.

He really is insatiable, apparently, when it comes to you.

Even so, you wonder if Jimin’s going to kick you out now that he’s finally had a taste of you. He doesn't. He keeps you close, your body pressed against his side in a way that feels far more intimate than you would have expected.

“Are you hungry?” Jimin breaks the soft silence.

You’ve been trailing nonsensical patterns over his chest but pause when he says this. “Hm?”

“Are you hungry?” Jimin repeats, and there’s a cheeky smile flickering at the edge of his lips. “I have some more peaches in the fridge, if you’d like one.”

“That peach.” Your voice is an embarrassed hiss and your cheeks burn, but Jimin just laughs, boyish and bright as you slap halfheartedly at him. “That was just unfair. Who eats fruit like that?”

“Someone who’s trying to make it obvious that he’s imagining the peach is his neighbour’s pussy instead.” He’s so brazen. “And it clearly worked, didn’t it?”

It had worked. It's annoyingly effective, actually; thinking about the way Jimin had been staring at you as he tongue fucked that peach has arousal shooting through you, even after being so thoroughly fucked by him.

“Yeah, now you’ve had me,” you say. “What do you plan to do next?”

Jimin goes quiet. You wonder if you’ve misstepped, but then he sweeps his hand down the curve of your spine, goosebumps appearing in the wake of his touch.

“I was planning on asking if you wanted to go out for lunch,” he says, his voice so sweet, miles away from the fuckboy persona he usually puts on. This is the softer Park Jimin that you’ve caught glimpses of when he’s unaware, the side of him you wished he’d show more often—revealed to you, now. “Then, if you said yes, I was going to take you out on a date. If that date went well, then I was going to ask if you’d like to go on another one with me. And then another.”

One thing you know about Park Jimin is this: he doesn’t do dates. Each of his lays are one time affairs, no attachments made, no real connection beyond the physical act of sex. Your heart rate picks up.

“Obviously we’d fuck between dates,” he adds, raising his eyebrows at you in a way that’s so exaggerated that it makes you laugh. Of course. Jimin likes to fuck. “Unless you didn’t want to, but there are only so many peaches I can eat, you know?”

“So if I said I didn't want to fuck, and you ran out of peaches, what would you do?” 

Your question seems casual and light but Jimin isn't stupid. He knows what you're really asking. Is he genuinely interested in something more exclusive, or would you just become another notch in his bedpost if he grew tired of waiting for you to spread your legs again?

"I can always buy more peaches."

You stare at him. He's looking at you levelly, a small smile on his face that's a little cocky but mostly warm. And, well, you know he's already gone without other partners for you, even before he'd gotten you in his bed. Park Jimin is serious about you, it seems. He'll wait.

You mouth at his collarbones, tasting the salt of sweat as you kiss and lick at his skin.

"After lunch, we can go back to my apartment, if you want," you whisper against his throat.

Just because Jimin's willing to wait doesn't mean you're going to force him to, especially as you're still as hungry for him as he is for you. 

His hands squeeze your sides as you end up kissing again. You feel soft and ripe and sweet, easing under the touch of Jimin's hands and mouth.

"I still think you're a fucking menace, though," you add, and Jimin laughs so hard the bed shakes, still utterly unrepentant and entirely yours.

--

taglist: @beyoncesdragon​ 

[arizona2004]

Hey can you please do a azriel x reader where the reader is struggling with bad mental health (maybe an Ed) because I’m struggling myself rn and alsao there’s not enough of them :). I can totally understand if you didn’t feel comfortable doing it

Okay, here it is. Everyone responds to their eating disorders differently, especially depending on the ED and severity of it. I hope this has what you’re looking for, though.

Azriel x reader

Word count: 1499

Warnings: Eating Disorders! The reader struggles with an ED and some depression and anxiety and a little OCD. Please don’t read if you think reading the unhealthy thoughts of someone with an eating disorder may cause you to relapse. It is not healthy to think about food and eating in this manner. Love you all. Don’t forget to eat something and drink some water.

Waking up, I immediately don’t want to get out of bed. I pull the covers over my head, keep my eyes closed, and scrunch my legs up to my chest. When I wake up again, it’s only a little later in the morning. I still don’t want to pull myself out of bed, but I can’t fall back asleep. So I just lay there. Turning to Azriel’s side of the bed, I notice he’s not there. Well, of course not; he’s already left for work. I stare at the spot he usually occupies before finally sitting up and checking the clock. It’s 10 am.

Standing, I wrap my robe around myself and walk out of the room, refusing to look in the mirror. I practice breathing evenly and focus on my routine. I need to eat breakfast. I spend nearly 20 minutes in the kitchen, moving around, deciding what to eat. I’m opening cabinets and closing them, finding nothing satisfactory. Eventually, I decide to make some bacon. The stove is on, and bacon is sizzling. The scent of bacon is wafting toward me, and I feel like being sick. I can’t eat bacon; it’s greasy and fatty. Toast, I think, I’ll make toast. So I put the bread in the toaster and let it cook. It’s only when the toast is cooked that I start thinking about the carbs that go into it. I haven’t been exercising enough recently. I shouldn’t eat so many carbs. I throw the toast out with the bacon and decide to make scrambled eggs instead. Whisking the eggs and milk together, I turn on the stove, letting the skillet heat and butter melt on it. When I turn, bowl in hand, ready to pour it into the skillet, it slips from my hand, spilling all over the floor. Anger and frustration wash over me; I guess I just shouldn’t eat this morning.

After cleaning the mess: doing the dishes that littered the sink and picking up the mess of eggs on the floor, I walk back up to my room. My head is pounding, and everything feels like it's crashing in on me. My heart is racing, and I just want to scream. My mind keeps flashing back to last night. We went out to Ritas, and it was supposed to be fun. But I just had to ruin things for myself. I barely ate. I stopped drinking early into the night. I wish I could have forgone the entire night. I wish Mor wasn’t so perfect. She has curves in all the right places and not a single flaw; I hate her for it, I think. Passing the floor-length mirror in my bedroom, I stop to look at myself. It’s been so long since I’ve looked in the mirror and liked what I saw. Why can't I have a body like Mor or Feyre or Amren?

I sit on the floor, just picking apart all the pieces of myself I hate. Thinking about all the insulting things people have said to me. Tears are streaming out of my eyes until I can’t even see my reflection. I’m clutching my chest as I struggle for air through my sobs. Why? Why? Why?

It’s an hour later, and I’m just lying on the floor of my bedroom, staring at the ceiling. I pushed my earlier hunger away, so I can’t feel it anymore. I wish I couldn’t feel any of it. The tears on my face have dried, and I’m breathing normally again when a small piece of folded paper falls next to me.

The Note reads: Meet me at my office at 11:30?

Azriel. I turn my head to look at the clock hanging on the wall. It’s nearly 11:20: a choked sob leaves my throat. Standing quickly, I rush to the bathroom to put myself together. In 10 minutes, my face is washed, and I’m wearing enough makeup to cover any signs of my tears. And I brushed through my hair and threw on some clothes. Rushing out the door, I head for the House of Wind. In the time it took to get to the door of his office, I’ve done breathing exercises to even out my breaths and slipped on a smile.

Knocking on the door to his office, I peeked my head in. “Hey,” I say, biting my lip.

He looked up to me, a grin spreading across his face and arms opening for me. I walked in, shutting the door behind me, and sat on his lap. He wrapped his arms around me, resting his head on my shoulder. He breathed in deeply, taking in the scent of me. “You smell wonderful, love,” he murmurs against my neck.

“Hmm,” I hum, holding him tight.

“Are you feeling alright?” He asks, pulling back slightly to look at me directly.

“Yeah,” An unconscious fake smile blooms across my face, “why wouldn’t I be?”

He just stares at me for a moment longer, eyebrows bunching, when he asks, “have you eaten today?”

“Yes. Breakfast this morning,” I say, “when I woke to an empty bed,” I try steering the question away from myself.

He knows I’m lying, “are you hungry? We could get lunch.”

“It was a big breakfast, Az,” I say, “I’m not hungry right now.”

He grips my waist and pulls me closer, wrapping his wings around us, “What’d you eat?”

“I made toast, scrambled eggs, and bacon,” It’s not entirely a lie, I think to myself.

He puts his forehead on my shoulder, resting it there for a long few moments, “baby,” he mumbles, “please don’t lie to me. We’ve been through this before: I can help, just talk to me.”

My lips start to quiver, I’ve upset him.

“I’m with you through all the good And the bad,” he says, head still down, “please tell me the truth about how you’re feeling,” he lifts his head to look at me, and the worrying features of his face make me sob again. “Hey, hey. It’s okay,” he consoles, wiping the tears from my face, “deep breaths.”

I take a deep breath in and out, and he does it with me. My tears start to slow, and the shuddering breaths even out. Az is running his hand up and down my spine, soothingly and when I’m ready, I explain everything, “I guess- things started getting bad yesterday. I didn’t really like the way I looked in that dress, and I just felt… off? Gross? I don’t know,” I take another breath in, “then Mor showed up, and she just looked so good in that dress; she’s so beautiful. And she ate and drank so much,” I’m ranting now, “Does she ever gain weight?!” I stop talking, trying to calm myself, and tears well up again, but I push them back. Looking back to Az, I start talking again, “I shouldn’t be jealous. I’m a horrible friend for being mad at her, but I just can’t stand her sometimes. I’m a horrible friend.”

I’m looking down between us now, but Az coaxes me back, “look at me,” he holds my face between his hands and pushes our foreheads together, “You are not a horrible friend. You are wonderful and kind. It’s okay to be jealous. You still love her, and you’re still a good friend. Now, tell me the rest.”

I shake my head holding back my tears, “It’s just the same thing. I just- it’s everything combined. I feel like I ate too much yesterday, and I haven’t worked out regularly this week. Then everything last night. So when I woke up this morning, everything was too much. Seeing myself in the mirror and thinking about how much I don’t deserve you. I’m not pretty enough. It’s all just so much. All at once,” my breaths come unevenly again, and tears are running down my face.

He doesn’t say anything for a long moment; his hands drop from my face and pull me into him. His hands run through my hair, and he just soothes me quietly for a few minutes. When he pulls back to look at me, he says quietly and calmly, “You’re beautiful, love. And I know me telling you that isn’t just gonna take all the bad thoughts and feelings away, but I need you to know: No matter what you see in the mirror or what your mind tells you, you are so beautiful. You have your ‘flaws,’ but that’s okay. You just have to learn to love them the way I do. And I’ll help you with that; I’m here to help.”

I nod, tears still streaming down my face, and lay my head on his shoulder, breathing him in and calming myself.

“Can we go eat food now,” he asks quietly. I nod letting myself feel the hunger I pushed aside and relaxed further into his arms. He lifts me with him as he stands and walks us to the kitchen.

[atlafan]

The Tutor - One Shot

a/n: based off this ask! I’m real happy with this one y’all. I’m happy to present tutor!Harry x hockey player!y/n, a nice little college au. Friends to lovers if you wanna categorize it. Enjoy! Reblogs and feedback are always super helpful. (semi-proofread, sorry in advance for any mistakes) 

Warnings: fluff and smut, partying, alcohol consumption

Words: 24.5K

Part Two Part Three

“This psychology professor is out to fucking get me!” Y/N groans as she plops down on her couch. “I don’t understand the books we’re reading, and he doesn’t even lecture from the powerpoints so I never have any idea what to write down.”

“Y/N, who the fuck told you to take a psych class anyways?” Amanda says to her.

“I thought it would be an easy gen ed for my science requirement. I didn’t want to take a fucking lab science, that would have been worse!”

“It’s only the beginning of the semester.” Gina says. “You should sign up for a tutor now before it gets so bad that coach benches you.”

“Goddammit!” She yells as she gets up. “I’m headed to the tutoring office, I’ll be back in a bit.”

Why there wasn’t an online form for tutoring she’ll never know. Y/N couldn’t risk getting a bad grade in her psych class. Hockey was her life, and she was a sophomore now so that meant she had more of a chance for playing time. Not to mention she worked her ass off over the summer, and her coach has been noticing her improvements at the few practices they’ve had.

She enters the tutoring office and the woman at the front desk gives her a form to fill out. She has to put down the class, who’s teaching it, and what she’s specifically having trouble with.

“Thanks, Y/N.” The woman smiles brightly. “We’ll email a student that received a B+ or better in this class, and then they’ll email you to coordinate a time to meet. You can meet in here, or the library, or wherever works best for you.”

“Okay, thank you.” She sighs and leaves to go back to her student apartment.

She felt lucky not to be in a dorm this year, but Y/N couldn’t wait to get an off campus apartment with the other hockey girls next year. For now, the on campus apartment will do. Her and her friends change to go to the gym, make dinner together when they get back, and head to the library to do their homework. This was another thing that Y/N liked about being on the hockey team, no one was ever left behind.

//

From: Harry Styles

To: Y/F/N Y/L/N

Subject: Tutoring

Hello Y/N,

My name’s Harry, the tutoring office sent me an email saying you needed help with Mind, Brain, and Evolution. That’s definitely a tricky class! I’m more than happy to help, I managed to get an A- in that class somehow. When works best for you? I’ll do my best to work around your schedule.

Best,

Harry

Harry Styles

Sociology Major/Applied Ethics Minor

Student Senate

Y/N rubs her eyes to check the time the email came through. 6:30AM. Who the fuck wakes up that early to send an email, and what normal student had an email signature? She rolls her eyes when she sees he’s on student senate. Curiosity gets the better of her, so she looks him up on Instagram. His account was private so she heads over to Facebook. She could only see his profile picture. It looked like it was from over the summer. He has a huge smile on his face, sunglasses on, a white t-shirt and short, yellow swim trunks. He was holding up a fish he caught.

“God help me.” She groans.

To: Harry Styles

From: Y/F/N Y/L/N

Subject: Re: Tutoring

Hey Harry,

I’d like to start ASAP. I’m on the hockey team, so I have ice times early in the morning, and evening work outs. I’m usually free from 2-4PM most days. We could meet at the library at 2 today if that works for you. Also, just feel free to text me, I’m not always great with email, tbh. xxx-xxx-xxxx

Thanks!

Y/N

Y/N stretches and gets out of bed. Her, Amanda, and Gina all head down to the ice arena for their early ice time. Once that’s done the three shower up, and head back to campus for their first class. Luckily, they were all business majors, so they were able to sign up for a lot of the same classes.

“Hey, did your tutor reach out to you yet?” Amanda asks.

“Yeah, it’s Harry Styles. He emailed me super early this morning, like right when I woke up for practice basically. He’s on student senate, so I’m not surprised.”

“Well, at least he reached out already.” Gina says.

The three sit down, and Y/N checks her phone before throwing it in her bag

Unknown Number, maybe Harry Styles: Hey Y/N! It’s Harry. I got your email, so I wanted to text you like you asked. 2PM works great for me today. Wanna meet in the café first and then we can find a spot?

Y/N: hey, yeah, sounds good, see you then!

The day goes by mostly normal. Y/N gets through her couple of classes, has a large lunch with the team, takes a quick power nap, and heads to the library café to meet Harry. She could certainly use an afternoon pick me up to get through the tutoring before her evening workout.

When she walks into the café she smirks to herself seeing Harry already there. He was wearing a pair of khakis and a blue t-shirt. His hair was a little longer than in his profile picture, Y/N could really make out his soft curls. He was wearing a pair of glasses and looking down at his phone.

“Um, Harry?” She walks over to him and he looks up. He gives her a warm smile. She takes a moment to notice he has a number of tattoos on his left arm. Much more prominent now than in the one photo she was able to view.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah.”

“Great to meet you. Your first coffee’s on me, what can I get you?”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that?”

“I insist.”

“If anyone should be buying coffee it’s me. You’re gonna have your work cut out for you with me.” She sighs.

“Nonsense, I think it’s great you reached out for help. Now tell me, what’s your drink?”

Y/N tells Harry she’ll have an iced coffee and he nods. He gets them both an iced coffee, and he gives her a moment to add her cream and sugar.

“You seriously drink that black?”

“Yeah, it’s how I have it at home, I’m just used to it.” He shrugs.

Right, he was an international student from England. She follows him into the main area of the library and they find a table to set up at.

“Do you mind if I sit next to you?”

“Be my guest.” She says flatly.

As he sits down she’s able to get a whiff of his cologne, and it actually smelled good. Like vanilla, but spicy? She now sort of wished she wasn’t in her workout clothes, and dressed a little nicer.

“So, what’s your major?” He asks as he pulls his laptop out.

“Business…I saw that yours is Sociology?”

“Mhm.” He smiles and opens his computer.

“What is Applied Ethics?”

“Oh! Glad to know you actually read all the way to the bottom.” He chuckles. “It’s just ethics, but with practical ways to apply it. I just picked it up this year so I’m taking a class called Creative Problem Solving in Ethics, and then I can take classes about business ethics or medical ethics or whatever else. I like it a lot.”

“What made you want to add that?”

“A lot of the classes double count in my major so I just figured why not?” He shrugs. “Enough about me. Why business?”

“My mom owns her own business and I’m hoping to take it over when I’m older.”

“What type of business is it?”

“It’s just bar.” She shrugs. “But she’s owned since I was a kid, and we want it to be a family business. I have a couple of younger siblings in high school and they feel the same way. I work there on breaks.”

“You’re allowed to work in a bar?”

“You can be eighteen to serve alcohol. I’ve only got another year and a half to go until I’m twenty-one anyways.”

“You’re a sophomore?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool, me too.” He smiles. “And you said you’re on the hockey team?”

“Yup.” She squints at him. “You’re on student senate, right?”

“Yeah.”

“What is with you guys always going to the men’s hockey games? You guys never come to ours. It’s a little annoying, to be honest. I noticed it last year.”

“Well, to be fair, I never go to hockey games, I don’t really care for the sport.” He runs a hand through his hair as her mouth forms into a straight line. “But I can certainly talk to the group to see if they’d be willing to go to your games too. Everyone deserves spectators.”

“Do you like any sports?”

“I don’t mind soccer…but other than that, not really. Oh! I love the Packers, but I only watch their games.”

“You seem to be a fit guy, so you must do something to stay in shape.”

“I run on the treadmill at the gym.” He blushes slightly. “And then I’ll lift a few weights, nothing crazy. Do you, uh, have your books with you? We should probably get started.”

“And here I was thinking I could distract you with small talk.”

Y/N takes her books out and sets up her own laptop. She explains that everything just feels confusing, and that it’s difficult to follow along in class. Harry listens and tries to give her some tips on how to deal with the professor. He takes out his old notes, and she sees the units are the exact same. He explains what he found helpful to remember for the tests.

“Now, I can’t just give you these, but we can use them to help you study. He may have updated the tests since I took them, but we can use my answers to give you an idea of what he’s looking for.”

“How were you able to do so well?”

“I have to take a couple of psychology classes for my major, so I took this as a gen ed. I already knew a ton of stuff about the brain, and the rest wasn’t too difficult, but I know psych isn’t for everyone, so I hope you don’t feel…stupid or anything because you’re not.”

“How do you know?” She smirks. “I could be a real buffoon.”

“To make it through this school’s business program I’m pretty sure you need a brain.” He nudges her. He checks his watch and sees it’s ten of four. “Wow, I can’t believe we used up the two hours.”

“Sorry.” She mumbles as she packs up.

“No! It’s great, actually. I get paid by the hour so it’s no skin off my nose. When do you want to get together again?”

“Maybe we could do this on Tuesdays and Thursdays?”

“Works for me, I’ll put you in my calendar so it’s a standing thing. I can send you the calendar invite too.”

“You’re very…professional, Harry.”

“Thanks.” He smiles and stands up.

She didn’t exactly mean it as a compliment, but she wasn’t going to correct him. They walk out of the library together and then go their separate ways. Harry was nice enough, and he was a decent tutor so far, so it wouldn’t be totally painful to meet up with him. It just annoyed Y/N that a fucking gen ed was stressing her out so much. 

//

A couple of weeks go by, and Harry puts in the hours with Y/N. She had her first big test coming up, and her first home game. Harry was a great study partner, he really helped put her at ease.

“You’re going to do great, I can feel it.”

“Thanks.”

“So…your first home game, are you excited?”

“I’m super excited! I’m starting this season. I just hope we have some people in the stands to cheer.”

Harry hums his response and nods.

“Well, I hope it’s a good game.”

The next day, Y/N takes her test, and she was surprised to see that she actually knew her stuff. For once she left the classroom feeling good. This helped pump her up for her game. When the team leaves the locker room they’re all stunned to see the arena packed. It was never like this for their games. Y/N looks around and sees all of the kids from student senate, including Harry, cheering for them. The arena was full of their school colors and signs. It was quite a sight to see.

Needless to say, the girls won. With all that support and cheering, who wouldn’t be able to play their best? The older girls on the team say there’s going to be a victory party at their apartment tonight. Y/N couldn’t wait. She changes quickly in the locker room, and heads up to campus with Amanda and Gina to get ready.

“I love when Ashley hosts parties, she invites the hottest girls.” Amanda says.

“Oh, is someone hoping to get lucky tonight?” Y/N teases her.

“Don’t I deserve it? I did score a goal.”

“You sure did, with help from me.” Y/N grins.

“Alright, so then maybe you deserve to get some head then.”

Y/N and Gina burst out laughing.

“Right, because guys are just dying to get on their knees for me.” She rolls her eyes.

“Oh! You should invite Harry out. He must have had something to do with why so many people were there, right?”

“I have no idea. I only mentioned once that it annoyed me, but now that I think about it some girls from the soccer team said they had a lot people at their home game the other day.”

“Same with the field hockey girls.” Gina says. “I hope some of them come out tonight. There’s this one girl, Leigh, oh my god I wanna wife her up.”

Y/N laughs and shakes her head. She puts on a black, short pencil skirt and pairs it with a black lacey crop top. She straightens her hair and does her makeup. Amanda and Gina make noises and tell her how sexy she looks. They do a couple of shots, and then make their way to Ashley’s. Once all of the hickey girls are there, they cheer and do shots together.

The apartment was getting more and more packed. Y/N notices the senior class president talking with Ashley, and it made her wonder if anyone else from senate was there. She ends up slamming into something hard. When she looks up she sees Harry in front of her. Although, he looks much different. No glasses, an almost see through white t-shirt so the tattoos on his chest and stomach were more visible, and black jeans with some tan boots.

“Hey, Y/N! That was a great game!”

“Thanks! I was surprised to see you there!”

“We…! Hold on!.” He grips her wrist and tugs her into the kitchen where it was slightly less loud. “Jesus, could barely hear myself think.” He chuckles. “Anyways, yeah, you sort of inspired me to start an initiative.” She watches him grab two red cups and go into Ashley’s freezer. “Want some vodka? We brought our own.”

“As long as there’s something to mix it with…”

“Cranberry juice?”

“Works for me.”

She watches him carefully as he makes the drinks, and hands her a cup. They clink them together and they both take a sip.

“Tell me about this initiative.”

“Well, I sort of felt bad when you said no one ever comes to your games, and it made me think of the other women’s teams. The senior class president is a girl so I brought it up to her first, and she told me it would be a great idea to try and get other clubs to come cheer on the teams. It took a lot of planning in a short amount of time. We definitely had the largest turnout at your game, I think it’s because you can actually sit down and get snacks.” He takes another sip of his drink. “Were you surprised?”

“Very, that was really nice of you.”

“And we’re going to keep doing it too. Definitely wasn’t a one time thing. I actually enjoyed watching you. Um, all of you.”

“Right.” She smiles as she takes a sip. “Can I ask…how did you get an invite here?”

“Kelly made it happen. She spoke to your captain…uh, Ashley? She sort of filled her in and asked if we could pack the arena if senate could come to the party.” He looks out to the living room full of people. “Are there usually this many girls? I’m not complaining, I just figured the hockey guys would be here.”

“They usually show up later, a lot of them end up in the basement where the beer pong and dancing is. There’s a lot of girls here because more than half the team are into girls.” She laughs and takes another sip. “Damn, you really know how to mix a drink, this is good.”

“Thanks.” He takes another sip of his own. “Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Into girls.”

“Not in that way, no. Although, sometimes I wish I was.”

“Why’s that?” They’re closer to the wall near the doorframe, and Harry places one of his hands on the wall so he can stand a little closer to her. People were walking by them so it’s not like they were the only people in the kitchen.

“Because guys always assume I’m a lesbian or something because I play hockey, so they don’t even bother looking at me.”

“That’s too bad.” He looks her up and down. “You’re quite a sight to see, and I don’t just mean because you’re all dressed up tonight.”

Y/N blushes slightly. She was suddenly painfully aware of how close Harry was to her. Was he flirting? Making a move? Did she want him to? Was he just drunk? Was she drunk?

“You…you look nice tonight too.” She tugs on the hem of his shirt. “You have a lot of tattoos.”

“Does it surprise you?”

“A little. I’m even surprised to see you out like this.”

“Just because I take school seriously doesn’t mean I don’t know how to have fun.” His lips curl up as the song changes. “Do you wanna go downstairs and dance?”

“Yeah.” She smiles.

She leads him down the stairs to the stuffy basement where a ton of sweaty people were dancing and playing pong. Whoever had the aux tonight was a genius, playing bop after bop after bop. Traphouse was just starting to play. Y/N was hoping for less of a slow grind to start off with for her and Harry, but oh well. She downs the rest of her drink and tosses the cup somewhere. Harry’s eyebrows raise, but he does the same. If she didn’t care, why should he?

Harry easily was a foot taller than her, especially with him wearing his boots. His hands find her hips and hers hook around his neck. He steps to put his leg between hers so she could grind on his thigh. He clearly knew what he was doing, and she was sort of impressed. Even though he was right there in front of her, it was still hard to think of Harry as someone who partied.  

She presses her head into his chest as they get going, and his head dips down to rest against hers. Getting to smell his cologne this close was making her feel even more intoxicated then she was. The song fades into Shake It by Metro Station and they both start giggling. Y/N steps away and starts singing the lyrics and so does Harry, not that they could hear each other. They dance like idiots and laugh a lot. That songs fades into Acquainted by The Weeknd. Y/N turns around and grabs Harry’s hands to put on her hips. He presses his pelvis to her ass, bending slightly at the knees so they were lined up. She moves her hips in perfect rhythm to the song and he follows right along with her. He feels himself growing tighter in his jeans, but he doesn’t do anything to suppress it, and she doesn’t mind one bit. If anything, it makes her press back harder on him. That song was just too powerful. Her head rolls back to chest as they continue to grind, and he hides his face in her neck. In a moment of bravery he starts kissing on her. One of her hands hooks around him so she can tug at his hair. He bites down and a slight moan leaves her lips. He pops off her and she turns around to face him. She presses her body close to his and keeps her arms around his neck. His hands are low on her back, just above her bum. He looks down at her and she leans up further so their lips can touch.

He tastes like the vodka cranberry that he was drinking earlier as she licks at his bottom lip. He opens up for her and she licks into his mouth. His tongue meets hers and he pulls her as close to him as he can. Things were getting heated quickly, especially as they continued to grind on each other. When the song ends they stop to look at each other. He leans down to her ear.

“Do you wanna go back to my place?”

“Yes.” She nods and he smiles.

He takes her hand in his and they both go upstairs. Y/N finds Gina and Amanda to let them know she was going over to Harry’s. Now, not that Y/N was living a lie, but she was definitely still a virgin. She had made out with plenty of guys, but that’s all. Her friends knew this so they both ask to make sure she was certain she wanted to go back with him. She assured them that she did. As they leave, Harry puts his arm around her shoulders, and she puts hers around his waist.

“I don’t live too far from here.”

“You’re off campus?”

“Mhm.”

“How?”

“I live with some of the other international students. Some of them are older, it just worked out.”

“Must be nice, I can’t wait to get off campus next year.”

“The privacy is definitely nice.” He says as he pulls her closer.

They walk up the steps to his apartment and he keys in. He pulls her up a set of stairs and down a hall that leads to his room, and he unlocks that door as well. Just as she thought, his room was neat and tidy. Even his bed was made. It was a decent sized bed too, a full, way better than her extra-long twin.

“Wanna listen to some music? I have, like, every record you could think of.” He walks over to his record player and she crosses her arms.

“Of course you have a record player?” She rolls her eyes.

“What? The sound quality is better.” He side eyes her. “Come here, come pick out what you want to listen to, I’m gonna grab us some water.”

“Okay.”

He slips out of the door and she hears him do down the stairs. She flips through the various records, rolling her eyes once in a while, and then she settles on Marvin Gaye.

“Subtle.” He smirks as he comes in with two glasses of water.

“What? I didn’t like anything else.” She takes a glass from him and takes a decent sip.

“Sure.” He chuckles and sets his glass down on his desk, she moves to do the same.

One of his hands finds her hip, and the other cups her jaw. He leans in to kiss her and it was like they never parted in the first place. She tugs him back towards his bed and they both fall onto it. She gets herself back so her head is on his pillows. He kicks his boots off, (her flats fell off when she got on the bed), and he hovers over her. His lips find her collar bone and he starts to suck on her skin. She gasps but lets him continue. He plants wet kisses around her upper chest and throat. Her hands were running through his hair. What’s Going On was playing in the background, and Harry’s hands were running up her thighs.

Her legs are parted, and Harry grinds himself against her. She pulls his face to hers so they can kiss. She didn’t know how many roommates he had so she didn’t want anyone to hear her moan out. He sucks on her bottom lip as his bulge continues to press against hers. How was he so good at this? How much action did he get? He was a sophomore like her, but how old was he actually?

“How, how old are you?”

“What?” He laughs.

“How old are you?” She repeats. 

“I’ll be twenty in February, why?”

“Just wondering…um, you said some of your roommates are older so…”

“Y/N, I promise if I were a lot older, I wouldn’t be trying to fuck some nineteen year old.” He smirks. “You are nineteen, right?”

“Yeah.” She smiles.

A wave of relief covers her body as he starts to kiss on her neck again. She couldn’t believe the guy that’s been tutoring her was doing this to her. She could feel how wet she was getting. He groans into her neck as he grinds into her again. She feels his hands go up under her pencil skirt and grab onto her panties.

“Harry, wait!” She gasps. “Don’t!”

He lets go immediately and sits back on his calves so he can look at her. She closes her legs and sits up against the wall.

“Sorry, was I moving too fast?”

“No, it’s just…I thought I was ready for this, but I don’t think I am.”

“Oh…” He runs a hand through his hair. “Well, that’s okay. We don’t need to do anything you don’t wanna do.”

“Are you sure? You’re not mad?” She chews on her bottom lip. He was probably hoping to get laid tonight and she just ruined that for him.

“Mad?! I’d be pissed if we did something you didn’t feel comfortable with. I’m not mad, Y/N. It’s really no problem. Do you want me to take you home?”

“No, I wanna keep making out.” She mumbles and it makes him smile. “I like the way you kiss.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He sits next to her and pats his thighs. She swings her leg over so she can straddle him. She pecks at his lips as her hands tug at his shirt.

“I wouldn’t mind if your shirt came off either…if you wanted.”

“Sure.” He stretches to get it off and he tosses it aside.

She runs her hands up and down his torso, tracing his tattoos, as his hands clasp around her back. She presses her lips to his neck and he sighs. She sucks on the spot just below his ear and he pulls her closer. He presses his hips up to hers so their grinding against each other again. She kisses along his jaw until her lips are on his again. He sucks on her tongue and it makes her moan against him. She tugs at his hair again and he has all he can do to not lose it in his pants. She was rubbing herself on his bulge in just the right way, she could feel the knot in her stomach growing more and more.

“Oh god.” She grunts and hides her face in his neck.

“Almost there?” His hands move to her hips to help her move on him.

“Y, yeah, I think so.” She was panting. “Shit, H, Harry.”

“Don’t fight it, it’s alright.” He grunts as he presses her down as close as possible on him.

She cries out into his neck and she slows her own movements as she works through it. She twitches on top of him during her aftershocks and then she just clings to him. He rubs her back to soothe her. He wasn’t sure if someone else had ever given her an orgasm before so he didn’t want her to feel freaked out or anything.

“Kiss me.” He whispers.

She presses her swollen lips to his and she whimpers. He was incredibly hard and he needed to go relieve himself before he got blue balls.

“Y/N?” He says against her lips.

“Yeah?”

“Would you mind if I just go use the bathroom quickly? And then I’ll come right back to you.”

“Okay.” He gently lifts her off of him and her eyes grow wide when she sees his bulge. She was also slightly embarrassed because even though he was wearing black jeans, she could see where her wetness got onto him. “You can wear this if you want…” He rifles through his drawers for a pair of shorts and a t-shirt.

“Oh, um, thank you.”

“Be back in a sec.”

He quickly leaves the room and she changes into his clothes. She really needed to pee herself, but she didn’t want to walk around his apartment alone. She patiently waits for him, scrolling on her phone, and he returns. There was a new sheen of sweat on his chest, and his bulge was gone. He goes into his drawer for a new pair of boxers.

“Would you care if I just stay in these? It’s a little hot in here.”

“Yeah, I don’t care. Um, would it be weird if I asked you to walk me to the bathroom?”

“Not at all! Come on, love.”

She smiles at the pet name. He used it a couple of times when he was tutoring her, but now it felt especially good. Harry thought she was cute. His big bad hockey player had gotten all soft around him. He walks her down to the bathroom and he changes in the hallway quickly, feeling relief from his clean pair of boxers. He also couldn’t help but smirk to himself thinking of how large his clothes were on her. Y/N uses the toilet and then uses some of the mouthwash on the sink before opening the door.

“All set?” Harry whispers.

“Mhm.”

She tries not to stare at his almost naked body as they walk back to his room. He flips the light off as she crawls into bed, and he grabs his laptop. She watches as he opens up Disney Plus.

“I’ve been watching Hannah Montana, do you feel like watching that?”

“Are you serious?” She laughs.

“Yeah! I’m fucking sick of people making references and me having zero idea what they’re talking about. Her songs are all over tik tok and I never understand.”

“Well, lucky for you I love this show, so I’d be happy to watch.”

“Good.” He smiles and hits play. He sets the laptop up at the end of the bed, and throws an arm around her. He strokes her arm lightly with his fingers that she noticed he painted black tonight.

“So…that wasn’t weird?”

“What?” He asks without looking at her.

“Um…me…doing that on you?”

“You mean when you came from grinding on me? No, it wasn’t weird.” He smirks and looks down at her. “It was pretty hot actually.”

“Did you…take care of yourself?”

“Yeah, is that weird?”

“No.” He kisses the top of her head. “You’re okay that I didn’t offer?”

“You pretty clearly said you weren’t ready to do that, so it’s fine.”

“I’ve never, um, taken my pants off for someone before…my top either.” She blushes. The alcohol in her system was making her a little too honest.

Harry sighs and reaches forward to pause the show. He sits back and looks at her.

“You don’t have to explain anything to me. Whether you’ve had sex before or not, you didn’t want to tonight and that’s okay. I should have asked first before grabbing at you like that, so I apologize.”

“No! No, it was okay, I just got nervous. I thought…I mean…when we were at the party I really thought I wanted to, I don’t know what happened. It got real all of a sudden and I panicked.”

“I like you, Y/N, I don’t mind waiting.”

“What do you mean you like me?”

“I mean I’ve had a fucking crush on you since the first time I tutored you. I didn’t know if you’d feel the same way, so I just kept it to myself.”

“Oh.” A boy had never liked Y/N like this before. Sure, she had found random drunk guys to make out with at parties before, but a boy had never openly said they liked her. “This is all so surprising, I’m a little overwhelmed.” She looks up at him and kisses his cheek. “But…I really liked what we did tonight, so maybe when I’m more sober we could talk about these feelings of yours more?”

“I’d like that.” He smiles and pecks her lips.

“Hit play, this is a good episode. She thinks her dad wrote a song about a bunny that stole his money.”

“Do hijinks ensue?”

“Oh, yes, many.”

“Fantastic.”

He leans forward to hit play, and she cuddles up with him.

//

The next morning, Y/N wakes up with Harry’s arms wrapped around her. It was early. She squints and sees his clock says 7:15. Her head and stomach didn’t feel great, but she easily could have felt worse so she wasn’t complaining. She adjusts against him and turns over to lay on her back. His hand moves to the side of her neck, and he gives her cheek a few smooches, making her giggle.

“Morning.” His morning voice ripples through her. Harry was sexy, it was official.

“Morning.” She whispers.

“Wanna go to the dining hall for breakfast?”

“Could I stop by my apartment first?”

“Sure.” He gets out of bed and looks for something in his dresser. “Here.” He tosses her some sweatpants. “I’m gonna grab a quick shower.”

When he comes back she’s wearing her crop top paired with his sweats. She put his other clothes in his hamper. His towel was hanging low on his hips. He grabs some clothes and changes in his closet. He comes back out in a hoodie and joggers. He cleans his glasses and puts them on.

“You won’t be cold?”

“Nah, it’ll be fine.”

They leave his place and walk to hers. Campus was always interesting this time of morning. There were other people walking back to their dorms and apartments. Y/N felt lucky she wasn’t walking alone.

“This is me.”

“Oh cool, you have student app. I’ve been to a couple of these, they’re nice.”

“Yeah, I have my own room, it’s just annoying that we still have to follow all the rules.” She unlocks the door and he stands outside with his hands in his pockets. “You can come in if you want? You can come up and wait in my room.”

“Alright.”

They both go in and head up the stairs. She was thankful her room was mostly clean, but her bed certainly wasn’t made. She grabs another shirt to change into and tells Harry she’s just gonna be in the bathroom. He sits on her bed and looks around her room. All of her hockey gear was piled up in a corner, she had posters of different teams she liked, and she had a poster of Dylan O’Brien from when he was on Teen Wolf.

She comes back shortly in a sports bra and his sweats, and her hair up in a messy bun. She throws on a hoodie of her own, and smiles at him.

“Okay, I’m all set.”

“Great, I’m starved. Definitely need a coffee too.”

“Oh, for sure.”

Just as she opens the door to go outside, she sees Amanda.

“Wait, I thought you stayed at his place.” She says.

“I did, we just came back here so I could change.”

“Those aren’t your pants.” She smirks. “Hi, Harry.” She teases.

“Hi, um, I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”

“Amanda.”

“It’s nice to meet you.”

“Where’s Gina?” Y/N asks.

“Passed out in her bed, I think. I made sure she got home before hooking up with this girl from the soccer team. My god, Y/N, she-“ Amanda stops herself. “I’ll tell you later, I need to shower. Where are you headed?”

“Dhall.”

“Okay, see you later.”

Y/N smiles and shakes her head at her friend. Her and Harry walk to the dining hall and swipe in. They decide on where to sit before going up to grab food.

“So, what other Disney shows are you going to catch up on?” She asks as she sips on her coffee once they’re at their table.

“I think That’s So Raven is up next.”

“Oh, excellent choice.” She smiles. He rests his elbow on the table, chin in his palm. He can’t stop smiling at her. “What?” She asks, shoveling eggs into her mouth.

“Nothing, I just think you’re cute.”

Y/N nearly chokes on her food, and takes a large sip of her iced coffee. He gives her a concerned look as she calms down.

“Oh, yeah, you have a thing for me.” She blushes. “Still need to get used to that.” 

“The real question is, do you have a thing for me? I mean, you must a little bit with how you were kissing me last night.” He gives her a coy look before biting into his toast.

“You’re…I mean, yeah, I have a thing for you. I like you, I like when we get together for tutoring. I even started looking forward to it.”

“How’d your test go yesterday, by the way?”

“I think it went really well…he said we should have our grades Monday.” Harry hums his response. “You’ll still tutor me, right?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know…I just feel like I made things weird…”

“Would you stop with that? I had plenty of fun last night, didn’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay then.” He shrugs. “I really don’t care that I didn’t get my dick wet, Y/N. I care more about you being comfortable.”

“But you could have taken someone else home and-“

“I didn’t want to take anyone else home. Just wanted you.”

“Why?”

“Because I like you.”

“But…why?”

“Well, for starters, since we met you’ve just been utterly yourself. You’re not afraid to say what’s what. I like when people speak their minds. I’ve tutored a lot of athletes, and I’ve never seen one work as hard as you. Usually they want me to do everything for them, and I don’t because I can’t be there to take the fucking test for them, but you genuinely wanted to understand the material.”

“I just always look like such a schlub when we meet, though.”

“See, what you call schlubby, I call sporty. You usually go to the gym after our meetings, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay then. I like all people, but I’ve never really been attracted to frillier girls. I like when girls don’t feel the need to impress others all the time. You’re just comfortable, and I like that.”

“I dress up for class sometimes, I just-“

“You don’t need to justify anything, Y/N. I mean, you looked insanely hot last night, but even if you had shown up to that party in sweats, I still would have wanted you to come home with me.”

“So…you wanna, like, date me? Is that it?”

“Date, hang out, whatever.” He shrugs. “I’m not picky about labels.”

“And you’re not talking to anyone else?”

“I haven’t had the time. I’ve been tutoring this really needy girl that has to see me twice a fucking week.” He smirks at her and she nudges him.

“I may be small, but I could beat the shit out of you.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, babe.” He winks and takes a sip of his coffee. “I have some stuff I have to do today, I like to get my homework done on Saturdays, but are you free tonight?”

“Yeah, we have the weekend off since we won. I don’t think the girls are doing anything, if they are I could always skip out, why?”

“My roommates and I are having a movie night if you’d like to come over.”

“I wouldn’t be crashing?”

“Not at all. They bring dates all the time.”

“Okay, yeah, that sounds nice.”

“I can come get you too so you don’t have to walk alone.”

“What movie?”

“We haven’t decided yet. Nothing scary, I can tell you that.”

“Works for me.” 

//

“Spill it, bitch, let’s go.” Gina says as she pins Y/N down on the floor of the living room.

“You guys are annoying.” Y/N giggles from Gina tickling her. “Okay, okay!”

Gina gets off her and helps her up. She gets on the couch and lays her head in Amanda’s lap. Amanda strokes her hair and she sighs.

“We went back to his place, we made out, and then I got nervous so I didn’t take my clothes off, but we ended up dry humping, and things didn’t stay dry very long.”

“Oh my god, did he jizz in his pants?” Gina asks.

“No, but I did. I can tell he’s big, and we were grinding really hard on each other and I came.”

“Oh my god!” Amanda squeals. “What did he do?”

“He took care of himself in the bathroom, and gave me some clothes to wear. We ended up falling asleep watching Hannah Montana. God, and he likes me, like he really likes me, and I think I like him too. He invited me over for a movie night with his roommates later.”

“You know what was a good sign? The fact that he wanted to get breakfast with you, and walked you to and from the dining hall. That’s a man right there.” Amanda says.

“No, what makes him a man is that when Y/N said stop he stopped.” Gina remarks. “I like him already.”

“He was seriously so chill about it, I was honestly shocked. I appreciated it, but I wasn’t expecting him to be so okay with me not wanting to go further.”

“That’s the shitty thing about college. Good people are a dime a dozen.” Amanda says 

//

Y/N straightens her hair and puts a little makeup on. She settles on a pair of leggings and a t-shirt with the school’s logo on it. She takes a shot with the girls just to take the edge off, and hears a knock at the door. She grabs her jean jacket and opens the door.

“Hi, Harry.” She beams.

“Hey, love, how was your day?”

“Good.” She giggles and leans up to kiss his cheek, taking him a bit by surprise.

“Now, young man…” Amanda says, walking over with Gina. “What time can we expect our girl home?”

“Who said she’s not spending the night again?” He raises an eyebrow at them. “Quite liked waking up next to you.”

“Oh my god.” Y/N says, clearly flustered. “I’ll text in the group chat so you know what I’m doing, bye!” She pulls Harry out the door. “Don’t add fuel to their fire.” She nudges him.

“I was just being honest.” He throws his arm around her. “I hope you’ll stay again, but if you don’t want to I’ll bring you home, no big deal.”

Instead of going right up the stairs when they get to Harry’s place, he leads her down the corridor, passing by the kitchen and a hall bath, and into the large living room. There was a giant sectional sofa and even more giant TV across from it. There were a couple of guys sitting down already.

“Oi, there you are.”

“I said I was stepping out to get my girl, didn’t I?” He rolls his eyes. “Y/N, this is Louis and Niall.”

“Hi.” She says, trying not to melt into a puddle from being called his girl.

“Make yourself comfortable, I’m gonna get some popcorn made. Do you want a beer or anything?”

“Beer’s fine, thank you.”

She sits down on the edge of the sofa and leans against the arm rest.

“You’re on the hockey team, right?” Niall asks.

“Mhm…you look familiar, are you on the soccer team?”

“We both are.” Louis says.

“Oh, cool. Is it just the three of you here?”

“No, we have two other roommates, but they practically live at their girlfriend’s places.” Niall explains. “We have some other friends coming soon, though, it’s good for you to claim your spot now.”

“Yeah, some of the other senate kids usually join us.” Louis says. “So you’re the girl Harry’s been tutoring, huh? He won’t shut up about you, it’s pretty cute.”

“Oi! Don’t embarrass me or I’m not sharing the popcorn.” Harry says, tossing them each a beer, and handing Y/N one. He sits down next to her with the bowl of popcorn in his lap.

A few of the student senate kids show up and Harry ends up pulling Y/N into his lap to make room on the couch. She didn’t mind one bit. They had settled on Napoleon Dynamite for a movie, which was perfect. There was one girl, though, that had sat right next to Harry, and she had sort of been flirting with him. Take the hint, I’m in his lap, not you, Y/N thought to herself. Harry notices Y/N finish her second beer.

“Want another?”

“I can get it.”

“You’re my guest.” He kisses her cheek and lifts her up so he can get up.

“How long have you known Harry for?” The girl asks.

“Um…like a month? What about you?”

“We met last year.” She flips her hair.

“Here we are, a fresh beer.” He hands one to Y/N and tosses a couple out to his friends. He lifts Y/N up and plops her back in his lap, making her giggle.

Everyone was having a good time, laughing at the hilarious movie. The lights had been dimmed when the movie started, so Harry was able to discretely kiss on Y/N’s neck once in a while. When the movie ends, Louis and Niall let Harry know there’s a party at the soccer house and he can swing by if he wants, and out the door they go. That leaves Harry and Y/N with the senate kids. They get into a game of Cards Against Humanity, which ends up being pretty fun. It was starting to get late, though, and it was clear that Harry wanted to be alone with Y/N.

“One more round.” The girl says.

“Nah, come on, Ari, we should go.” A boy, Billy, says.

“Yeah.” Another boy, Andrew, agrees. “I’m beat, and we need to walk you home.” They both stand up, and he extends a hand to her. She groans, but stands.

Harry walks them all to the door and says goodnight. He walks back over to Y/N who was cleaning up the living room.

“You don’t have to do that, I can clean up, love.”

“It’s okay, it’s just a few cans.”

“Follow me, we have a recycling in the kitchen.”

She follows him in and he opens the door for the pantry where the kept a bucket for empty cans.

“That girl has a crush on you, yeah?”

“Who? Ari?! No way.”

“Come on, Harry.” She scoffs. “If I wasn’t sitting on top of you I’d say she was.”

“Aw, it’s cute your jealous.” He wraps his arms around her waist.

“I’m not, I’m just saying.” She wraps her arms around his neck. “I picked up on the vibe.”

“Well, even if she did it doesn’t matter because I don’t like her like that. I like you.”

“I like you too.”

“I should fucking hope so.” He chuckles. “Wanna come up to my room?”

“Yeah.”

He pecks her lips and then leads her up the stairs. He flops onto his bed and she crawls on top of him. His hands find her hips and she rids him of his glasses, gently putting them on one of his pillows. She leans down so their chests are pressed to each other and they start kissing. One of his hands moves to the back of her head so he can tug at her hair.

“Can I…touch your butt?” Y/N laughs against him and nods yes. His hand slides further south and he squeezes her right cheek. “You’re so fucking perfect, you know that?”

She sucks on his bottom lip as her answer and he pushes his hips up to hers. They grind against each other just as they did the night before. Both of his hands knead her cheeks as her hand slide up under his shirt. They were both starting to sweat. She sits up on him and lifts her shirt off. His eyes grow wide as he sees her breasts practically spilling out of her bra.

“It’s hot.” She whines and tugs at the hem of his shirt. He sits up so she can pull it off him.

“Let me turn the fan on, yeah?”

She nods and lets him get up to turn his fan on. He snatches his glasses and puts them in their case on his desk, and then he gets back on the bed, sitting up against the wall, and she crawls back into his lap. He kisses on her necks and down her chest, biting on the fleshy parts of the tops of her breasts. She tugs at his hair and rolls her hips down on him.

“You…you can take it off if you want.”

“Are you sure? Is that what you want?” He looks up at her. “Last night…”

“I was really drunk, I have more of my wits about me now. I’m okay if my bra comes off.”

“Okay, but if you wanna cover back up just let me know.”

“I will.”

He reaches around and gets her bra unhooked in a couple of swift movements. He tugs it down her shoulders and tosses it to the floor. He gazes at her bare chest and licks his lips. His large hands cup both of them and he kneads them at first, just getting a feel. His thumbs rub circles into her nipples, getting them nice and hard. He kisses down her chest again, and just uses his tongue to lick and swirl around her nipple. Who was he? Y/N’s head was swimming. She thought Harry was just a stuffy, studious college kid, but fuck, he was almost…devious. He blows on her now wet nipple before wrapping his lips around it to suck on.

“Oh!” She gasps and presses his head closer to her. She grits her teeth and closes her eyes, loving the new sensation he was bringing her. He pops off and does the same to the other one.

“So,” He says, kissing his way back to her neck. “No one’s ever had the privilege of seeing you like this?”

“No.” She swallows.

“I feel really lucky then.” He nips at her bottom lip. “You like the way it felt?”

“Mhm.” She nods. “Felt really good.”

“Good. I always wanna make you feel good.”

He puts his face between her breasts and press them around his cheeks, making her giggle. He mumbles something.

“What?” She laughs and he looks up at her.

“Just feels so nice, they’re so big.”

“Sometimes I have to wear two sports bras so I’m not bouncing around on the ice.”

“I bet.” He starts kneading them again.

“I feel like I just wanna do everything with you.” She says as she rolls her hips on him again.

“God, I feel the same way, but only when you really feel ready, Y/N.”

“I know, you just make me feel so comfortable.”

“Have you…I mean you said you’d never taken your pants off for someone before, but have you ever seen someone else?”

“Um, no…”

“So you’ve never gotten a guy off before.” He doesn’t ask, he’s more so confirming.

“Right.”

“Okay.” He smiles and kisses her. “Think we should cool it for the night then before I get a little too excited.”

“Oh, alright.” She was hoping to maybe come again. He lifts her up and sets her down. She crosses her arms over herself as he gets up, he looks over his shoulder at her.

“No need to cover up, babe, I’m just changing outta these pants.”

“I just feel a little exposed right now.”

“Want one of my shirts?”

“Yes, please.”

He tosses her a t-shirt and she puts it on. He strips down to his boxers and gets back on the bed. He furrows his brows at her leggings.

“You’re not gonna sleep in those, are you?”

“Well…I’m only wearing a thong underneath, so I’m not sure what else to do…”

“Christ.” He blushes and gets up, searching for a clean pair of boxers. “You can wear these if you want.”

“I feel like I’m going to own all of your clothes at some point.”

“I like the way they look on you, so I don’t mind.”

She stands up and turns around to change while he lays on the bed. He wants to respect her privacy, but he’s nineteen, so he sneaks a peak. She climbs onto the bed with him and snuggles up. He falls asleep before her, and she can’t help feeling restless.

“Harry.” She sits up nudges his shoulder. “Harry, are you awake?”

“I can be.” He says softly. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah…I just…um, would you…take care of me?”

“Y/N…” He sits up and caresses her cheek.

“It’s so hard just laying here next to you, I want you to touch me or something. You made me feel so good last night, and you got me all riled up before.”

“Left you hanging?”

“Yeah.” She pouts.

“What do you want me to do specifically? I only wanna do something you wanna do.”

“I don’t want to have sex, but I do want these boxers to come off, and I think I want your head between my legs…if you’re up for it, that is.”

“Oh, babe.” He smirks. “I’m more than up for it. Just tell me to stop if you get nervous.”

“I will.”

He shifts to get between her legs, and he tugs on the boxers, slowly sliding them down her legs. Once they’re gone he gently opens her legs up for him. She was shaking slightly.

“Hey, hey.” He leans up to kiss her. “You’re alright, yeah? Do you not want to do this?”

“No, I do, please it’s okay. I really wanna feel you on me.”

“Okay.”

He gets back between her legs. It was dark, so it was a little hard to see, but it wasn’t rocket science, so Harry licks up from her center to her clit. She gasps, and he does this a few times.

“Doing alright?”

“Yeah, keep going.” She bites her bottom lip.

He licks and sucks around her folds and then he sucks on her clit. This causes her hands to fly to his hair. He flicks the tip of his tongue on the small bundle and then sucks again. Y/N tries to stifle her moans by biting her lip, but it’s starting to hurt.

“No one’s home, love, just let it out.” He says against her. “Can I use my fingers?”

“Please, yes, need it.”

He smirks up at her, not that she can really see. He sucks his middle finger into his mouth before slowly inserting it. She gasps out a moan. He’s slowly lapping away at her clit while his finger goes deeper, to his knuckle. His hips press into the mattress, trying to get some relief of his own. She was so warm and inviting, and it was killing him. He was taking it slow with her, not wanting to hurt her, but he couldn’t help himself from twisting and curling his finger. He was looking for that special spot.

“Oh my god.” She gasps. Bingo. He’s got it.

“Right there?” He rubs his finger against it again.

“Yes, oh shit.” She groans.

Harry sucks on her clit while continuing to use his finger inside her. She can’t help the way she’s breathing and panting, it just makes him work faster and harder.

“H, Harry, I think I’m going to c….oh my god!” She throws her head back as she feels her release.

He retracts his finger and laps away at her center. He kisses her inner thigh to help calm her down. He sits back up slowly to look at her. He couldn’t tell, but her cheeks were flushed.

“Would you, um, walk with me to the bathroom?”

“Of course.”

She doesn’t bother putting the boxers back on. The shirt she was wearing covered her plenty, and he was just nose deep in her crotch so she didn’t need to be shy. Once she’s done he tells her to go wait for him in his room. He needed to take care of himself.

“Think you’ll be able to sleep now?” He teases as he gets back into bed with her. 

“I feel bad…”

“About what?” He pulls her close to him so she can rest her head on his chest.

“I should have taken care of you.”

“One step at a time.” He kisses the top of her head. “When you feel ready we can do that. I feel happy that you trusted me enough to do what we just did.”

“I feel happy too.” She yawns.

It didn’t take long for either of them to fall asleep after that. 

//

Monday, Y/N got her test back from her Mind, Brain, and Evolution class. Her eyes grew wide when she saw her grade, an 88%! She was ecstatic, and couldn’t wait to tell Harry. She didn’t get to chat with him too much Sunday. He walked her home, kissed her goodbye, and then had to get some things done before his student senate meeting. Why they met on Sunday evenings was beyond her.

It was just her luck that he was at the dining hall for lunch at the same as her. She sets her food down and snatches the test from her bag.

“I’ll be right back ladies, gotta go tell my man how well I did.” She grins.

They all cheer her on as she struts over to him. She was clad in a pair of leggings and a t-shirt, but she still felt cute. She’s felt incredibly cute ever since Saturday night. Harry was deep in conversation with his friends Y/N goes right over to him and wraps her arms around him, shaking the paper in front of his face. It takes him completely by surprise. He snatches the test and he looks up at her.

“Oh my god!” he nearly squeals and stands up to hug her. “This is amazing! I knew you could do it.”

“A B+, I couldn’t believe it! I still can’t, and it’s all thanks to you.” She wraps her arms around his neck, not giving a fuck that his friends were watching, especially that girl Ari.

“It was all you, I’m so proud of you.” He kisses her forehead.

“I better get back over to them so I can eat, but I just couldn’t wait to tell you.”

“I’m glad you came over here. I’ll see you tomorrow at two, right?”

“Mhm.” She smiles.

“Great, celebratory coffee on me then.” He smiles back and kisses her cheek before she walks away.

“So, you’re, like, dating the hockey girl?” Billy asks.

“There’s more to her than that.” Harry says as he sits down. “We’re hanging out.” He shrugs.

“What class are you even tutoring her in?” Ari asks.

“Mind, Brain, and Evolution. She’s actually really smart, she’s a business major. This class is just tricky.”

“I remember taking that last semester with you!” Andrew chimes in. “Think I only passed because we sat next to each other.”

“Now that she’s got a good grade you don’t still need to tutor her do you?” Ari asks.

“No, I’m definitely going to tutor her.”

“Why?”

“You know how when you go on antibiotics and you start to feel better, but you may have like half your pills left to take? You don’t just stop taking them until you feel better, right? You have to take all of your medicine.”

“Yeah, and Harry’s for sure gonna give her that medicine.” Billy teases him.

“Oh, stop. I like her, and she likes me. Thank god, thought I was going to explode from it being one sided.”

“When’s her next game?” Andrew asks.

“Wednesday. We have to make sure we go again. 

//

Harry already has the iced coffees ready to go when Y/N meets him in the café of the library Tuesday afternoon. She was clad in her workout clothes, hair up in a messy bun.

“Thank you.” She smiles and takes the coffee from him.

“I even put the cream and sugar in it for you.”

“I noticed, how kind.” She smirks.

They find a table to go study at and set up. She goes over the new unit and what’s already sort of not making sense to her. Harry goes over his notes, and does his best to explain things to her. After an hour or so, they take a break.

“How have you been feeling?” He softly asks her.

“About what?”

“What we did Saturday night…we haven’t even texted about it, so I didn’t know if you were avoiding the conversation.”

“Oh! I feel really great. Um, I guess I just didn’t know what to say. I’m glad we did it.”

“Me too.” He looks down and then back to her. “It’ll be nice to do it again, right?”

“Mhm.” She smiles and a slight blush covers her cheeks. “Um, I don’t know if you’re coming to the game tomorrow or not, but-“

“I’ll be there.” He cuts her off. “Go on.”

“When we have games during the week we can’t exactly party all night, so we usually go downtown and order a bunch of food. Some of the girls invite their significant others, and, well, if you don’t mind being out a little late I was wondering if you’d wanna come too.”

“I’d love to.”

“Really?!”

“Sure.” He smiles. “Gotta be there for my girl.” He clears his throat. “Let’s get back to it, I don’t wanna make you late for the gym.”

Y/N liked that Harry was always so serious, she may not have before, but now she just thought it was cute. He lets her do some reading for class while he works on his own homework.

“This is nice.” He speaks up.

“What is?”

“Just doing homework together. We could do this more if you want. I’d obviously still tutor you on the clock, but we could get together sometimes to do other homework.” He stops typing and looks at her. “Then we could, uh, see each other more…if you wanted.”

“I’d like that.” She smiles. “I end up doing homework with the girls a lot, but you’re more than welcome to come over and join.”

“Sounds like fun.”

She looks at the time and sighs, closing her laptop and packing up.

“I have to get going.”

“I’m gonna stay here a bit longer, otherwise I’d walk you out.”

“That’s alright.” She leans down and pecks his lips before slinging her bag over her shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow for the game?”

“You will.” He smiles brightly. “Bye, love.”

“Bye.”

Y/N had butterflies. This was a dream come true.

//

The ice arena wasn’t as packed as the first home game, but there were still a lot of people there. The thing about women’s ice hockey is that you aren’t allowed to fight, so it’s less exciting than men’s ice hockey. Or, that’s what people say. It was annoying that they couldn’t fight. There were plenty of people that Y/N just wanted to deck while she was out there.

She looks out to the stands and sees Harry with the student senate crew holding up a sign for her. It had her number on it and everything. Harry looked cute in his beanie and sweater. Y/N played great and she loved looking over to see Harry cheering, not that she let it distract her. She was able to assist two goals, and the team won 4-1. It was an incredible game.

After the coach goes over what their next practice will consist of, and his congratulations, he leaves to let the girls change.

“Dinner down at the pub in twenty ladies!” Ashley yells.

Everyone runs to the showers to clean themselves up. Y/N throws on a pair of jeans and a black top. She grabs a light windbreaker and puts some product in her wet hair so it dries nice.

“Is Harry coming down?” Gina asks.

“Mhm, he’s going to meet us down there.” She smiles.

All of the girls walk down together. Ashley called ahead so there were a ton of tables pushed together. Harry was waiting outside the pub, along with some of other significant others. Y/N practically jumps on him.

“Great game.” He says into her neck.

“Thanks! I loved seeing you out there. It’s nice to actually have people cheering for us.” She kisses his cheek and lets him go.

Everyone finds their seats. Ashley and some of the other older girls order different pitchers of beer for the table. It was a college bar so no one was really double checking ID’s, especially on a Wednesday, so Y/N poured herself and Harry a glass of beer. They all cheer and clink their glasses.

Nachos, mozzarella sticks, chicken wings, fires, and anything else that could be thought of were ordered for everyone. Harry fit right in with everyone, already having a small report with Amanda and Gina.

“I still can’t get over this.” Ashley says. “Our little baby Y/N bringing a guy to dinner.”

“Didn’t you come to the party at our house?” Megan asks. “Is that how you two met?”

“No, he’s been tutoring me for a class.” Y/N explains. “He just happened to be at the party last weekend.”

“Well, Harry, you can come anytime. I know it was your idea to get more people at the women’s games.” Ashley says.

“Y/N told me how much it bothered her that senate goes to a lot of the guys’ games, thought it was only fair to support the girls too. Your games are way more fun to watch. You’re really fighting for it out there, you can feel it.”

“Oh, he’s a keeper for sure.” Megan says.

Y/N leans in to Harry and he puts his arm around her. She looks up at him once the attention is off her a bit.

“Do you want to come back to my place for a little bit?” She asks.

“I would, babe, but I have an 8AM, I need to go home after all this, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. I have an early practice anyways…”

“I can hang out tomorrow night, though. I usually go to the soccer house with Niall and Louis, I’m sure they won’t care if you come.”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” She smiles and so does he. Damn him for being so responsible.

“Plus, I’ll see at two for tutoring, right?”

“Right.”

“I could come to your place for that.”

“I don’t think we’d get much tutoring done if we do that.” She winks at him and it makes him laugh.

Amanda and Gina give a few minutes to kiss Harry goodbye before they need to part ways.

“Sorry.” She tells them, wiping the corners of her mouth. “He’s such a good kisser.”

“Apparently on both sets of lips.” Amanda teases her.

“Stop! I told you that in confidence.”

“I still can’t believe it didn’t make you want to fuck him right after.” Gina says.

“Believe me, I think I’m getting ready for that, but I’m nervous to see it.”

“His dick?” Amanda asks.

“Yeah, I’ve never really seen one before, and I can tell his is big. What if it breaks me in half?” She jokes.

“I bet he’d love to hear that, ask him to break your back.” Gina bursts out laughing.

“You two are annoying.” Y/N groans as they continue their walk to their place.

//

It was hard to get through tutoring for both Y/N and Harry. She wanted him, and he could tell. Every time she looked at him he could see it in her eyes. She was being especially pouty and touchy and it was getting to him. Somehow, they both made it through, and he told her he’d pick her up around nine to bring her to his place to pregame before going to the soccer house.

She gets her workout in, showers, and then makes dinner with Amanda and Gina. The three all get some more homework done before going upstairs to get ready.

“Alright, what am I wearing? Jeans and a crop top?”

“What if you wore like a bralette and some high waisted mom jeans?” Gina asks. “That’s always a look.”

“I don’t know what the vibe is at the soccer house, I don’t want to be too exposed.” She pulls out her mom jeans and a black short sleeve crop top. “I think this could be cute, and I’ll put some waves in my hair.”

“I like it.” Amanda asks. “You’re going to his place first, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Assert your dominance and pack an overnight bag. Bring your own toothbrush and pj’s. Show him you’re not afraid to get comfy.”

“You know, that’s not a bad idea. I feel like I’ve been stealing his clothes.” She snatches a string backpack from the floor. “Plus, my drinks won’t clink the bag with some clothes in there. What are you two up to tonight?”

“I think we’re going over to the field hockey house for a bit, and then we’ll see how it goes from there.”

“Nice! That’ll be fun, they always throw great parties.”

The three all finish getting ready, and Y/N packs her hard seltzers into her bag. Harry knocks on the door right at nine, and she flings herself onto him. He chuckles as he kisses her.

“Hey.” He says.

“Hi.”

“Ready?”

“Yup, bye girls!” She yells as she swings the door shut.

When they get into Harry’s she moves to go right up the stairs to his room, but he clutches her wrist.

“Pregame is in the kitchen, babe.”

“I know, I just wanna put my bag in your room first, is that alright?”

“Uh, yeah, of course.” He goes upstairs with her and he watches as she pulls out shorts and a t-shirt, her toothbrush, and her hairbrush.

“It’s okay I brought this stuff, right?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be? I want you to be comfortable.”

“Just making sure.” She grabs her bag and they both head downstairs.

She cracks open a seltzer and they all listen to music while they get a little buzzed. Niall and Louis were funny. Harry leaves her down in the kitchen with them for a few minutes while he goes upstairs to put his contacts in. He didn’t like wearing his glasses to parties because one time someone pushed him, they fell off, and broke. His mum wasn’t too happy when she had to ship him a new pair.

“Did you all live together last year too?”

“Nope, I met Harry from class, and we were already on the soccer team together.” Niall says. “They have these mandatory international student meetings, so the three of us sort of just started hanging out. Lou’s a couple years older so we were able to get off campus. The other two, who are literally never here, are international students too. It all sort of just worked out.”

“Harry’s a great roommate too, he cooks a lot.” Louis chuckles.

“Because if I didn’t.” Harry says as he comes back in. “You two would waste your money on shit all the time.” He throws his arm around Y/N’s shoulders and finishes off his drink.

“We ready? It’s ten, gotta get there before they start turning people away.” Louis says.

Everyone agrees, so Harry loads up Y/N bags with some drinks, and out the door they go.

”I have to warn you, the soccer house is gross.” Harry says. “Those guys leave it a mess. It’s huge so it’s great for a party, but you’re better off having a wee in the bushes than using one of their bathrooms.”

“Well, I’m glad I went before we left then.” Y/N chuckles.

They all get inside, and music is already blaring. Y/N recognizes a few of the guys and she gives them hugs. They congratulate her on her win from the night prior. The house packed already, it smelled like various types of smoke, the floors were sticky with god knows what, and there were a fuck ton of guys.

“Y/N you need a drink?” One of them asks.

“No, I brought my own, but thanks!” She follows Harry into another room where things were a bit more chill. They each take a drink out of her bag and crack them open.

The party was fun for the most part, good music was playing, and Harry looked fucking hot. Y/N liked that he clearly had outfits for partying and outfits for school. Tonight he was wearing a blue short-sleeve button up with the first few buttons undone paired with a black pair of skinny jeans that had a few rips in them. He had rings on his fingers and his nails were painted a pastel purple.

Y/N wished she hadn’t been drinking so much because she desperately needed to pee. She wondered if what Harry said was true, if the bathrooms were really that gross. She searches for another girl and leaves his side.

“Hey, this is random, but you wanna go to the bathroom with me?”

“OMG, sure!” She says brightly. The girl had long blonde hair and a tight dress on.

“Thanks!”

That was the one good thing about drunk girls, they were always willing to be a bathroom buddy. The girl tugs Y/N up a set of stairs.

“Less people using this one!” She says over the music.

She was right, no one was upstairs. It was nice to take a break from the loudness. Both girls go into the bathroom and grimace.

“I don’t get this, boys need to sit down to shit, wouldn’t they try to keep it clean?” The girl scoffs and checks her makeup in the mirror.

“Guess I’ll be squatting.” Y/N sighs, and unzips her pants. She squats over the toilet and pees. “Thanks for coming with me, I wasn’t about to ask my…uh, my date to come with me.”

“No problem girl! I need a pee break myself.”

Y/N flushes and stands up all the way, switching spots with the girl so she could pee. Y/N washes her hands and checks her own makeup.

“Who are you here with?” The girl asks as she pulls her panties back, moving to wash her hands.

“Harry Styles.”

“Oh! I’ve seen him around, he’s cute.”

“Very.” They both giggle. “I’m Y/N.”

“I’m Karina.”

They smile and both head out and down the stairs. They wave goodbye to each other as they make their way back to their people. Y/N walks right up behind Harry and wraps her arms around him. He’s surprised at first and then relaxes when he sees it’s Y/N.

“Where’d you go with that girl?!”

“To the bathroom! We used the one upstairs!”

“Did you know her?!”

“Nope!” She laughs and so does Harry.

As the night goes on, Y/N starts to feel dancey and notices other people dancing in one of the larger rooms, so she tugs Harry over and wraps her arms around his neck so they can grind front to front. His hands go right to her hips, and his lips find her cheek and then her neck. One of her hands slides up to his hair to rake through. She noses his jaw to get his attention and suddenly her tongue was in his mouth. He pulls her closer and backs them up towards a wall, pressing her up against it. She wondered, briefly, how many girls Harry had made out with at a party. She knew he had to have fucked a lot. No guy could be that good at eating out without some practice. The jealousy she feels seeps in and she bites down on his lower lip a little too hard. He winces and pulls away for a moment. He catches his breath and looks down at her, moving some hair away from her face.

“Alright?!”

“How often do you do this?!”

“Do what?!”

“Make out with girls at parties! Take those girls home and fuck them!” She wasn’t sure where this was all coming from. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was starting to sink in that she gave up a part of herself to someone that she had only known a few weeks.

“Hey! Whoa! Where is this…” He leans in to speak into her ear. “Where is this coming from?”

“I’m just feeling…weird all of a sudden. You have so much experience, and I don’t have a lot, so-“

He moves back to look at her. He cups her jaw and leans in to kiss her. He gives her a few kisses before moving his lips to her ear again.

“Let’s get out of here, then we can talk more, okay?”

She nods yes and he takes her hand. He leads her out of the house, and the chilly night air hits her like a ton of bricks.

“Can you walk alright?” He asks her.

“Can I? Yes. Do I want to? No.”

“Alright, well hop on.” He crouches in front of her.

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah, all aboard.”

She giggles and hops onto his back. She rests her chin on his shoulder and nibbles on his earlobe, making him giggle.

“Thought you were upset with me for a second.”

“I got jealous.”

“Of what, babe?”

“Anyone that’s ever been with you.” She shamelessly admits. “I know that’s dumb.”

“I haven’t been with that many people.”

“It’s none of my business.”

“It is if it’s bothering you, Y/N.”

“You’re just really good at it, and it made me think that you’ve had a lot of practice. Not to mention that everything you do surprises me. I’m still shocked that you’re the type of guy to make out openly at a party.”

“I mean, yeah, I’m a nice guy, but I’m like any other guy sometimes. I’m respectful, but I still wanna have fun.”

He gets to his place and sets her down so he can unlock the door. They both go straight to his room, and they sit on the edge of his bed.

“We were having such a good time, walk me through what happened?” He asks as he gets up to take his contacts out.

“I don’t know, it was like while we were kissing it made me think of how many times you’ve done that sort of thing before. Doesn’t that happen to you with me?”

“Not really.” He sits back down next to her, running a hand through his hair. He kicks his boots off and looks at her. “I’m more or less just lost in you.”

“I think I’m just feeling vulnerable since we haven’t been alone since I was so exposed to you.”

“Shit, I’m sorry. I should have stayed with you last night when you asked me to come home with you.”

“No! It’s okay, we both had to get up early. I’m being dumb and needy.” She shakes her head.

“You’re not being either of those things. We can wait a while to do something like that again if you want.”

“No! I don’t want to wait. I really liked it. I guess, I mean…”

“Are you worried that you’re not the only one?”

“Maybe a little…”

“Babe, I’m not talking to anyone else, I thought it was pretty clear. I’m not in a rush to put a label on anything, but I’m not fucking anyone else, I swear.”

“Okay…”

“I’ve only ever fully been with like six people if that makes you feel better.”

“Harry, I really don’t need to know.”

“I just don’t want you to think I’m some sex maniac. I had sex in high school, and then there were a couple of girls last year, and then a couple people this past summer. If I seem good at it, it’s only because I’m vocal and I ask to make sure things feel good, that’s all.”

“Alright, I’m sorry for being so stupid. I ruined the entire night.”

“You’re not stupid, and you didn’t ruin anything, okay? I’m gonna go get us some water, feel free to change and then we can just watch TV or something.”

“Oh.”

“What?” He asks as he stands up.

“I just thought, you know, you’d want to take my clothes off for me.”

“I mean, I do, but I don’t think that’s a good idea right now. We both had a lot to drink, Y/N.” He gives her a soft smile and leaves to go downstairs.

She sighs heavily and then changes into the pj’s she brought. He comes back and hands her a glass. He starts unbuttoning his shirt the rest of the way.

“I really like what you have on tonight.”

“Yeah? I liked your outfit too. Although, you look pretty cute right now.” He smirks and drags his jeans down his legs and gets onto the bed with a sigh. 

“Oh, do I?”

“Mhm, very cute.” His eyes trail down her body and they grow wide when they get to her legs. “What happened here?” He points to the various bruises on her thighs and shins.

“Oh, it’s just from going to the gym and games and stuff. I always have bruises on me.” She shrugs. “No big deal.”

“Poor thing.” He rubs his hand over one of her thighs.

“It’s really not a big deal.” Goosebumps raise on her skin from his gentle touch. She lays down fully next to him, rolling onto her side to face him. “I like you.”

“I like you too.”

She nuzzles into his chest and he rubs her back. They stay like that for a while, and she starts to hear her breathing level out. He carefully gets up to turn his light off, and goes back to the way he was.

//

The next morning, Y/N wakes up pressed into Harry’s side. He was out like a light. She gets up and grabs her toothbrush and pads out to the bathroom. She gets in and locks the door behind her. She splashes some cool water onto her face, and brushes her teeth. She tip toes back to Harry’s room, and crawls back into bed.

“Where’d you go.” He mumbles as he moves to spoon her.

“Just to the bathroom.” She whispers.

He nuzzles into her back, pressing his pelvis to her ass. He pushes a leg between hers to get especially cozy. She adjusts against him, and things sort of just sped up from there. He started moving against her and the second she whimpered, he was dipping his hand into her shorts.

“Is this okay?” He asks, kissing on the exposed part of her neck.

“Yes.” She breathes.

His fingers rub on her clit at first before going between her folds. He groans when he feels how wet she is. He drags it up to her clit to rub circles on her. She turns over onto her stomach and he follows her, continuing to grind himself against her ass, and rubbing on her clit.

“Fuck, Y/N.”

Hearing him moan her name was doing things to her. She moves her hips along with his, and she starts to feel warm all over. She was moaning into his pillows, and he feels her writhe under him while she comes. He takes his hand away once she’s done, and she rolls onto her back.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I…give you a hand job?”

“You really want to?”

“Yeah, I really do.” She bites her bottom lip and he moves to lay next to her.

“You’re positive?”

“Yes.”

He starts to lower his boxers and he looks at her again. She nods and he gets them of all the way. Her eyes widen. He really was big, and thick too. She sort of knew what to do. She had seen enough porn to know she at least needed to make sure her hand was wet, so she spits into it, and carefully grips him. He hisses from her touch.

“Wanna know what I like?” He asks her.

“Yeah.”

“While you do it, put these fingers over my tip.” He moves her fingers he wants them and then she moves them back and forth while her hand works around him. “Shit, just like that, it’s perfect.”

Y/N can’t help but look at Harry’s perfectly sculpted happy trail that leads down to the small tufts of hair right at his base. His balls weren’t hairy, he clearly did a lot of manscaping. In a bold move she uses her other hand to cup his balls, and his head rolls back into the pillow.

“Is that okay?”

“Yeah, just, like, massage them a little, but not too hard.”

She nods and gives him gentle squeezes while her hand continues to work on him. This wasn’t so bad. She wasn’t sure what she was so nervous about, it was just a penis. She licks her lips and looks at him.

“Can I…put my mouth on it?”

“Fuck, yeah, please.” He grips the sheets as she wraps her lips around his tip. “Just no teeth!” He reminds her at the last second and she pops off.

“How the fuck am I supposed to do that? Unhinge my jaw?”

“No.” He chuckles. “Just try to keep your lips around your teeth or keep your mouth wide. Use your tongue more than anything.”

She nods and goes back down. He has to fight to buck up into her. She only keeps her mouth around his tip, not wanting to go crazy. She pumps the rest of him, drool dripping down her chin.

“Y/N, I’m getting close.”

She keeps sucking on him. When she looks up at him, making eye contact, he loses it. She spurts into her mouth and her eyes widen at the taste. It didn’t taste bad, but it certainly didn’t taste good either. She takes it all, but she sure as shit wasn’t going to swallow. She looks around his room for his trash and when she spots it, she gets off the bed and spits into it. She grabs the glass of water from his desk and swishes it around her mouth before spitting again.

“Sorry.” She breathes. “I just-“

“You’re apologizing? Get your ass over here.” He smirks. She gets back onto the bed and he holds her close. “I wouldn’t have wanted you to swallow it unless you really wanted to. I know it’s a lot to get used to.”

“So, you’re not offended?”

“You just gave me a blow job, I’m not offended at all.” He kisses her forehead. “I’m just gonna go use the bathroom, I’ll be right back.” He grabs his boxers and slips them on and leaves the room.

Y/N snatches her phone and texts in the group chat letting Amanda and Gina know what just happened. She couldn’t wait to get home, she needed to talk about it now. When Harry gets back she nearly throws her phone. She puts her phone down gently and cuddles up to him when he lays back down. He kisses on the top of her head a couple of times and rubs her back.

“That felt really good, by the way.”

“You’re not just saying that?” She pouts up at him.

“Not at all, I’ve been dreaming about you doing that. It was nice to feel the real thing.” His lips curve up as he looks down at her. “You’re a natural, sure you’ve never done that before.”

“Never, I swear.” She giggles. “I’m glad it was good for you.”

“It was fantastic.” He sighs.

After snuggling a little longer, they both decide to get up. Harry makes Y/N some eggs and toast for breakfast before walking her home. They get to her door and he has trouble saying goodbye. His lips just won’t leave hers.

“You have practice today?”

“Mhm, and then an away game tomorrow. We leave early in the morning. I’ll text you when I get home, maybe we can meet up.”

“I’d like that.” He smiles. “So I won’t see you at all tonight?”

“No, we’re not allowed to go out the night before an away game.”

“Fair enough.” He sighs. “Alright.” He kisses her against, sucking on her bottom lip before letting her go. “Can’t wait to hear how the game goes.”

“Thanks, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bye.”

She goes inside and runs upstairs. She knocks on Amanda’s door before going in and they both squeal. Gina comes in and squeals with them. 

//

It was a rough game. They lost by one goal. The bus was quiet at first, but the coach ended up farting and it made everyone laugh, lightening the mood. They wouldn’t be going out to celebrate tonight, but Y/N knew a few of the girls would be getting together. She was pooped and didn’t feel like drinking. She was sitting in the window seat on the coach bus next to Gina, who was turned talking to one of the other girls, so she takes the opportunity to call Harry. Now that she thinks about it, they’ve never spoken on the phone before. She puts her headphones in and dials his number.

“Hello?”

“Hey.”

“Hey! How was the game, babe?”

“We lost…by one goal.” She sighs.

“I’m sorry, that must not feel great. I watched the live stream, but I was only able to catch the beginning.”

“You…you actually watched part of it?”

“Yeah! I wanted to support you. I had to tutor this afternoon so that’s why I wasn’t able to watch the whole thing.”

“Well, thanks for watching a little…”

“Of course, babe.”

“Um, we should be back to campus in an hour. I need to shower and stuff, and I don’t really feel like going out, but would you wanna come over and cuddle?”

“I’d love to. I’ll bring my laptop so we can watch Disney movies.”

“That sounds amazing. I’ll text you once I’m all set.”

“Sounds good, see you soon.”

Y/N hangs up and taps Gina on the shoulder. She tells her that Harry’s gonna come over and she nods excitedly. She takes the second shower once Amanda is done, and then puts on a pair of comfy sweat pants and throws on a t-shirt. Harry comes over, and she takes him right up to her room.

“What are your roommates up to tonight?”

“Not sure, they’re probably just hanging out too.” They both get onto her bed. “Sorry there’s not as much room as your bed.”

“Are you kidding, this is going to be a great cuddle.”

He sits up against the wall, and has her sit in front of him, placing the laptop at the foot of the bed. They decide on The Goofy Movie. Although, Harry is being very distracting. He rubs Y/N’s shoulders and neck, and then his arms wrap around her waist. He gets up under her shirt, one hand kneading one of her breasts, and the other dips into her sweatpants. He starts kissing on her neck and her head rolls back to his shoulder. She bites her bottom lip as his fingers get inside her underwear and start rubbing at her clit. His middle finger slips inside her and she gasps.

“Alright?” He nips at her earlobe.

“Mhm, don’t stop.” She bites her bottom lip. They’ve both forgotten about the movie, almost thankful it’s just background noise to help muffle things. “M’getting too hot, Harry.” She whines.

He nearly rips her shirt off, exposing her full chest to him. She gets up and wiggles out of her sweatpants. He gets his own shirt off, and then she straddles him. She kisses down his neck and sucks where she pleases.

“I did some thinking last night while you were gone.” He says between pants.

“Oh yeah?” She rolls her hips down on him.

“Yeah.” He grips her hips and moves his up to meet hers. “If I’m only seeing you, and you’re only seeing me, then I think I should just cut the crap and ask you to be my girlfriend, don’t you think?”

“You…I thought the labels-“

“I was being stupid about that. I wanna be your boyfriend, Y/N. Can’t risk anyone else scooping you up. I need you to be mine.”

“I’m already yours.”

“Like, officially though.”

“Okay.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I want you to be my boyfriend too.”

He grabs his phone out of his pocket and goes to change his Facebook status when he realizes something.

“We’re not even friends on here…”

“We’re not?! Could have sworn that happened when you started tutoring me.”

“No, I guess not. Think that was just insta.” He sends her a friend request, and she accepts, and then they both change their statuses. “There, now there’s no question about it.” They both set their phones on the floor, and get back to it.

Their tongues slide against each other as he gropes various parts of her body. Things were getting hot and heavy fast.

“Want you, please.” She whimpers against him.

“What?”

“Please, Harry, fuck me.”

“Y/N…”

“I’m ready, I swear. We’re both sober, I want this. Please, Harry, please fuck me, don’t make me beg.” She pouts. “Fuck, I don’t have any condoms.”

“I…have some in my backpack.” He blushes. “I just keep them in there, I didn’t think anything was going to happen tonight.”

“Well, I’m glad you have some. Do you wanna do this?”

“I do, but only if you’re really sure.”

“I am.” She smiles and he nods. She gets off of him and lies down on the bed while he searches through his backpack.

“Do you want me to finger you some more?”

“No, I really just want your dick.” She slides her underwear down her legs and tosses them to the floor.

His mouth was watering. He strips himself of the rest of his clothes and snatches a condom. He makes sure her door is locked, and closes his laptop before getting on top of her. He opens the foil packet, and rolls the rubber down his length.

“You’re positive?”

“Yes, Harry, I swear.”

“I’ll stop at any second, okay? You just need to speak up.”

“Okay.”

She spreads her legs apart for him, and he leans down to kiss her. He rubs his tip against her clit and through her folds, making sure she’s wet. He starts to push inside her, and all she feels is pressure and stretching. It sort of burned a bit as he did it. She takes a deep breath and digs her nails into his shoulders.

“Almost all the way in, can you take it?”

“Yeah, yeah, I can take it.”

He groans once he’s all the way in. He was so fucking snug inside her, it was a miracle he didn’t nut right then and there.

“You feel so fucking good, Y/N. Are you doing okay?”

“Yeah.” She had a couple of tears in her eyes.

“Are you sure? It doesn’t hurt?”

“It hurts a little, but not enough that I want to stop. I’m just getting used to you. Try moving.”

“Okay.”

He slowly rocks in and out, watching her face to make sure she wasn’t in too much pain. It was crazy, it was a like a switch went off because as soon as he got going with a good pace, it started to feel good. Even the stretching, she liked how it all felt. One of his hands kneads her breast and tweaks her nipple and his lips attach to her neck.

“Okay, babe?” He says into her ear.

“So good, Harry.” She wraps her legs around his back and digs her heels into his ass.

He couldn’t do much with her tonight, he knew that. He couldn’t fuck her from behind or even let her on top, but he could make her feel amazing. He snakes a hand between them and rubs her clit.

“Oh!” She gasps.

“Like that, baby girl?”

“Yes, oh my god, yes, Harry.” She arches up into him. She’s breathing heavily and scratching at his back. She almost felt like she needed to pee, but she knew it was just her orgasm getting ready to wash over her. “Shit, oh fuck, shit!” She cries out as she comes around his cock.

He spills into the condom shortly after, not being able to hold on much longer himself. He pulls out of her slowly, not wanting to hurt her and she winces.

“I know, baby, I know.” He feels terrible, he knew she had to feel sore. He gets up and throws the condom out in her trash and gets back over to her quickly, caressing her cheeks, applying kisses all over her face. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” She smiles and practically melts at his tenderness. “I really need to pee.” She chuckles.

“Alright, let’s getcha to the bathroom then.”

“I can go on my own. Just need a shirt.”

“Take mine.” He grabs it off the floor and hands it to her. He slips his own boxers back on, and helps her stand up.

He watches her waddle out of the room. She winces as she uses the toilet, and she grimaces at the toilet paper when she sees a light pink color. He was so careful with her, extremely gentle, but she was still a virgin at the end of the day. Well, not anymore. She just gave something major to Harry. She waddles back to her room, and smiles when she sees him still half naked, waiting in her bed.

“Do you want the side with the wall, or-“

She practically jumps on top of him, and she attacks him with kisses. They both giggle and then she settles to lay on top of him for a bit. He rubs her back and soothes her as best he can. He gets up to use the bathroom, and when he comes back they decide to finish their movie and spoon before falling asleep.

//

Harry held Y/N all night. She felt extremely safe in his arms, and it was exactly what she needed after doing something so big for her. She adjusts against him, and he gives her kisses on the back of her neck and she smiles. She turns over and buries her face in his chest. He strokes her back and kisses the top of her head. He was being careful with her, knowing that she would need some extra reassurance.

“How are you feeling?” He finally asks, his voice still thick with sleep.

“I’m okay.” She mumbles. “A little sore, but I’ll be alright.”

“I tried not to be too rough with you, I’m sorry.”

She looks up at him and smiles.

“You weren’t rough at all…I probably should have let you finger me a little more beforehand. I just really wanted you.”

“Can’t blame you for that.” He smirks and she swats a hand at his chest. “Kidding.”

“Mhm, sure you were.”

“Do you have plans today?”

“Just homework and stuff. I’m dreading our practice tomorrow morning, the coach is gonna ride us for losing.” She sighs.

“It was your first loss, right?”

“Yeah, so it’s not terrible, but it could easily be the start to a losing streak, so we need to prevent that.” They both shift so Harry’s on his back, and she’s got her head on his chest. “Why? Did you want to do something?”

“Well, I was thinking I could go back to my place and shower, and then I could come back here to do homework or something…we could get brunch at the dining hall.”

“God, I love brunch at dhall. Could I invite Amanda and Gina? They’ll be jealous.”

“Sure! I don’t care.” He kisses her forehead and gets up. She watches him stretch, and he gets his clothes on. “Wanna just meet over there in, like, an hour?”

“Works for me.”

“Alright, see you in a bit.” He leans down and pecks her lips before slipping out.

Just as she’s getting out of bed, and putting some shorts on, Gina and Amanda burst into her room.

“You guys wanna come to the dining hall with us in a bit?” Y/N asks with a smug look on her face.

“Yes, but we have more important things to discuss.” Amanda says. “What the hell happened in here last night?”

“Oh god, did you guys hear anything?”

“Only a little.” Gina says. “I just put headphones in.”

“Okay, so this is going to sound like he and I have bene moving fast, well, I guess we have been, but…we had sex last night.”

“Like full on?!” Amanda asks. The three sit on the bed together.

“Yeah, he was like rubbing up on me and stuff, and we were making out, and I told him I wanted to. He was so sweet, he kept asking me if I was sure and everything.”

“Did you make sure to pee after?” Gina asks.

“Yeah…and I think I bled a little…I’m a little sore. He was so sweet on me, though, like he took it really slow.”

“Did it hurt while he was doing it?” Amanda asks.

“A little in the begging, like when he first put it in, and then all of a sudden it started to feel really good. I think he was hitting my g-spot or something. He rubbed my clit too, I didn’t know an orgasm could feel so good.” She blushes. Her and the girls have had plenty of these conversations, so it wasn’t that weird to be so open, but just thinking about the previous events was making her feel an ache between her legs.

“Good for you! And he asked to go to the dining hall with you?” Gina asks.

“Yeah, he asked me if I had plans today. He held me all night too. We, like, made things official last night…on Facebook…”

“Oh shit!” The girls say and both take their phones out. They like the status update.

“I’m gonna go shower quick, and then we can get ready to go?” Y/N asks.

“Definitely.” Amanda says.

They both watch Y/N stand up. She breathes funny for a second and then she sneezes.

“Ow! Oh my god!” She grabs at her lower stomach.

“What happened?” Gina asks, concerned.

“Felt like my vagina was gonna fall out.” Y/N says and they all start laughing. “Fuck, this is going to be a long day…”

//

Harry really liked Y/N’s friends. They were chill, but blunt. He knew Y/N must have filled them in on the night prior, but he didn’t mind. He knew the first time was a big deal for anyone, his certainly was, even if it was when he was seventeen.

“Harry, you’re on senate right?” Gina asks.

“Yeah.” He smiles. “Why?”

“Is it true you guys have these really long meetings on Sunday nights?”

“Mhm.” He sighs. “We meet up at five, and we all have to be dressed up because sometimes different staff and faculty come to the meetings, so we need to look professional. I’ve been there as late as 10PM sometimes. Certain motions take forever to get through, it’s annoying. The only perk is that we get food provided.”

“And that’s why you get a lot of your homework done on Saturdays, right?” Y/N says.

“That’s right.” He smiles at her.

“How come you wanted to on senate and not join a normal club?” Amanda asks.

“I wanted to be involved with how things are done on campus.” Harry shrugs. “I was on student senate in high school, so I wanted to continue with it here.”

“What made you want to study at an American university? Aren’t schools way less expensive where you’re from?” Gina asks.

“They can be. I just thought this would be a good time for me to get away and travel. It makes me appreciate home more when I go back.”

“Makes sense.” Gina says. “I’m actually from Florida, and only came up here to play hockey.”

“Same here, I’m from California.” Amanda tells him.

“I think I’m one of the few in-state students on our team.” Y/N says.

“That’s cool though that this school has such a good hockey program that you wanted to come here.”

After lunch, Harry comes back to Y/N’s apartment, and they all hang out to do homework in the living room. When 4PM hits he explains he needs to go home so he can get ready for senate.

“Thanks for hanging out today, it was nice.” Y/N says as they stand in the doorway.

“Yeah, it was.” He puts his thumb and forefinger on her chin to tilt her chin up. He leans down and gives her a nice, slow kiss. “When do I see you next?”

“I don’t know…Tuesday for tutoring?”

“Works for me.”

“I mean, I’m sure we’ll talk before then.”

“Most likely.” He grins.

“Okay, well, have a god senate meeting.”

“Thanks.” He gives her another kiss before heading out.

“He’s, like, dreamy.” She says to the girls when she walks back into the living room. “I think I’ll keep him around.” She giggles with them.

//

Harry was just finishing getting his tie on for the senate meeting, and he thinks to send Y/N a mirror selfie so she could see what he has to wear. He puts a pout on his face and puts a caption on it asking her to just kill him. Joking, of course.

When she gets the DM, she bites her bottom lip. She thought he looked really good. So she told him that, well she told him he looked really sexy, and that was just about all he needed to stay distracted for his entire meeting.

“Harry?”

“Hm?”

“What’s your vote on giving Awesome Weekends more funding?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry. Um, I just think if we do this we need to see some return on investment. I want to make sure that students actually go to the events they put on. The money should go towards more advertising and stuff like that. I mean, but just word of mouth we were able to get more people at sporting events. The events Awesome Weekends put on aren’t exactly always awesome.”

“They’ve proposed more free skate nights.” Billy says. “Off-setting the cost of rentals. That’s why a lot of students don’t go to that normally. They’re also working on more movie nights, and late night dining.”

“Alright, I vote yes then, but it needs to be a trial basis. We need to see how it works. If they want the same amount of money next year then they can say why they deserve it in allocations this spring like everyone else.”

“I agree with Harry.” Ari says. “I say we boost it now, but let it be clear that if they want more next year, they’ll have to ask for it during allocations like everyone else.”

“Thanks.” He whispers to her.

“No problem.” She smiles.

“Alright, let’s take a fifteen minute break.” The senior class president says.

“You’re a little distracted tonight, are you alright?” Ari asks Harry.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He says, taking out his phone. Y/N had sent him a selfie of her own, snuggled up in bed, and he smiles at it. “These meetings just go on forever sometimes. My girlfriend’s already in bed for Christ’s sake.”

“It’s only 9:30…wait, did you just say girlfriend?”

“Yeah, made it official with her last night.” He smiles dreamily.

“The girl from the hockey team?!”

“Um, yeah…why?”

“I…well, no offense, but she just seems sort of frumpy for you, Harry.”

“Frumpy? That’s sort of rude, Ari.” He frowns. “I think she’s really pretty.”

“I just meant, like, she’s always wearing sweats and stuff.”

“A lot of people on teams do that. What do you care how she dresses anyways?” 

“I just think people should care more about how they look before they leave for the day.”

“You’ve never seen her dressed up for a party then, because-“ He cuts himself off. “You know what, I don’t need to do this. I like her, she’s my girlfriend, and that’s it. As my friend, I hope you’d be happy for me.”

“I’m ecstatic.” She huffs and gets up to grab some more water.

“I don’t like her attitude at all.” Harry says to Andrew.

“Dude…she has a thing for you, and you just rubbed a new relationship in her face. I was sort of hoping she’d stop liking you when you brought Y/N over for that movie night, but I guess not.”

“She what?!” He whisper screams. “Why didn’t she say anything?”

“Probably because she knew you didn’t like her back. She’s had a thing for you since last year.”

“Shit, I feel terrible.” He looks over at Ari and then back to Andrew. “Should I talk to her?”

“No, she’d probably just be embarrassed. You said you’re official with Y/N now, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then she just need to accept it. She’ll move on now that she knows she really doesn’t have a chance.”

“Ari’s really nice, and pretty in her own right, I just like sportier girls, I always have.”

“Hey, I think Y/N’s hot, so you don’t have to explain it to me.” He smirks.

“Don’t ever say that to me again…but thanks.”

It was nearly 10:30 by the time Harry got back to his apartment. He goes straight to his room and flops onto his bed. He groans and then changes out of his nice clothes, and goes to do his nightly routine in the bathroom. He gets settled in bed, and takes his phone out.

Harry: goodnight, Y/N, sweet dreams <3

Y/N gets the text and nearly squeals. Harry was so sweet.

Y/N: night! <3

//

Y/N groans when her alarm goes off at 6AM. Sometimes she really hated having early ice times, but nonetheless she gets up and puts her warm ups on. She grabs her phone and decided to be a little cute.

Y/N: morning, Harry! Hope you have a great day :)

She gets her gym bag together, and meets Amanda and Gina downstairs. They each grab a granola bar, and head out the door.

Harry wakes up at 6:15 to get ready to go to the gym. His heart skips a beat when he sees Y/N’s good morning text, and the smile on his face grows wider as he rereads it.

Harry: morning, love, hope coach doesn’t go too hard on you

He looks outside and sees that it’s pretty nice out, and decides to just go for a run. Harry liked getting his workout over with in the mornings. It gave him a lot of energy for the day, and once it was done, it was done.

Coach had the girls sprint across the ice way too many times, and then he had them work on their slap shots. They scrimmaged until they couldn’t scrimmage anymore. He said that they better get it together for their next away game Wednesday. They needed to be able to win on the road, not just at home.

Y/N was drenched in sweat, as were the other girls. She peels her padding off and the rest of her clothes, and hops into the shower. She needed to look nice for one of her business classes today, so she puts on a pair of tan nylons to cover her legs. It was getting colder, but it wasn’t quite black-tights seasons yet. Then she puts on a green short-sleeve blouse, and pairs it with a black pencil skirt that comes to right above her knees. This was her “fancy” skirt for presentations. She straightens her hair and puts some makeup on, and then slips in her black flats. Amanda and Gina were dressed up too.

“We better get points for looking so nice, or I’ll kill this professor.” Gina says.

“Right? Like, there has to be style points.” Y/N says.

“Let’s just get up to campus and get this over with.” Amanda says. “A presentation at 8:15, who the fuck thought that was a good idea?”

The girls crushed their presentation, of course, but Y/N didn’t have time between her other classes to change, so she just toughs it out. She figures after lunch she can run home quickly to change into her workout clothes.

Andrew and Ari were in line at the dining hall, waiting to get sandwiches when they see Y/N walk by with some of the other hockey girls.

“What were you saying about her being frumpy?” Andrew says to her, nudging her arm.

“Stop it.” She groans. “I’m embarrassed enough for how I acted last night. I’m lucky Harry’s even sitting next to me.”

Y/N accidentally bumps into someone while she’s getting herself a glass of water.

“I’m so sorry, I…oh, hi, Harry.” She beams.

“Y/N, hi.” He blushes when he looks her up and down. “You look, um, nice.”

“Thanks, I had this stupid presentation for my marketing class this morning, and I haven’t had a chance to change yet. Hoping to after lunch.” They both walk into the dining area together. “I have like an hour before my next class so I’m gonna eat quick and head back.”

“Do you…want some help changing out of all that?” He asks, stepping close so no one hears him.

“Um…”

“I’m sitting right over there, come grab me when you’re done eating, yeah?”

“Okay.”

He smiles and kisses her cheek before walking away. Y/N goes over to sit down with her friends, face completely flushed.

“Are you alright?” Ashley asks.

“Yeah, um, I think I just made a dick appointment, so I can’t stay long.”

“Oh my god!” Ashley squeals. “Damn, with Harry?”

“Yeah.” Y/N smiles. “I told him I was going to change after lunch and he just asked me if I needed help.”

“Oh, shit!” Amanda laughs. “What a fuckboy thing to say, but damn, I don’t think I’d say no either.”

“He’s, like, way more smooth than I ever would have thought.”

Y/N only eats about half of her lunch out of nerves, and then says goodbye to everyone. She walks over to Harry’s table, and clears her throat. He looks over at her and smiles, getting up with his empty dishes. He says goodbye to his friends and walks out with Y/N. They put their dishes away, and then he grabs her hand, intertwining their fingers.

“This is okay, right? I’m not being too pushy?”

“No, I…I want you to come over.”

“Okay.” He smiles and they both walk a little faster to the student apartments.

Y/N nervously keys inside and they both run up to her room. She slams it closed and locks it, and the next thing she knows she’s being pinned up against it. Harry presses his front to hers, and groans into their kiss.

“Is this okay?” He breathes before moving to suck on her neck.

“Yes.” Her hands move to undo his pants. “Is this?”

“Yes.” He steps back to take his shirt off and wiggle out of his pants.

He grabs her and his hands slide to her ass to unzip the back of her skirt. It falls to the ground, pooling at her feet. He lifts her shirt overhead, and quickly unhooks her bra.

“Christ, you’re so fucking beautiful.” He leads her over to her bed, and lays her down. His fingers hook into her panties and he slides them down her legs. He licks his lips when he’s presented with her center. “You don’t mind if I have a little dessert, do you?”

“Please, indulge.” She leans up on her elbows to watch as he dives right in. “Oh, fuck.” Her head rolls back, and her hands rake through his hair.

He licks her up and down and moves his face from side to side. He sucks on her clit, and slides his middle finger inside her. She winces for a moment, and he pops off her to look at her.

“Are you still sore?”

“Um…only a little…but I really want you to keep going.”

“I don’t wanna do it if it’s gonna hurt.”

“Please, Harry? I really want you to fuck me again.”

“I just wish I had some lube or something to help soothe you…we’ll have to buy some.” He says more so to himself than to her before licking over her clit again. He does the next best thing, and just wells up some spit and lets it fall from his tongue to her center. She whimpers and he looks up at her. “Like that?”

“Yeah…it was sort of sexy…”

He does it again and then slides his middle finger back inside her. He’s able to get a second finger in, and he curls them both up against that spongey spot of her front wall. He uses his other thumb to rub around her clit. He looks up at her and can’t help but smirk when he sees her head rolled back into the pillow.

“Can tell you’re close, love, you gonna come for me?”

“Shit, oh my god, yes!” She cries out. His words put her over the edge and she comes around his fingers. He goes over to his backpack to grab a condom, and takes his boxers off so he can roll it on. He gets back on the bed between her legs.

 “You know, I never asked, are you on the pill or anything? I don’t mind using condoms, I’m just curious.”

“Yeah, I’m on the pill.” She puts her hands on his shoulders and smiles.

He hums his response and lines himself up with her. He starts to push inside, but he stops.

“Why’d you stop?” She pouts.

“Just wanted to make sure you still wanted to.”

“I do! Please, just keep going.”

He nods and slowly pushes inside her. He grunts once he’s all the way in, and stays there a moment before pulling out and pushing back in. Her mouth falls open from the pleasure.

“That feels really good.” She says, pressing kisses to chest.

“Yeah? Like it like this, babe?”

“Mhm.”

He continues to carefully thrust in and out of her. She bites her bottom lip, and decides to let him know how she’s feeling.

“Could we…could I…um…”

“What is it, baby? Tell me what you want.”

“What if I got on top?”

“You sure you wanna try that now? When’s your class?”

She looks off to her clock.

“I’ve got thirty minutes, plenty of time.”

“Alright.” He pulls out and switches spots with her. He sits up against the wall and waits for her. She gives him a funny look. “What?”

“Aren’t you supposed to lay down?”

“Not necessarily, I wanna help you, just come here.”

She crawls into his lap, and lines herself up with him. They both look down as she slowly sinks down on him. Her eyes flutter closed for a moment to get used to it. He helps her wraps her legs around his waist, and his hands grip her ass. She wraps her arms around his shoulders and he slowly thrusts up into her. Her eyes snap open when she feels how deep he’s able to go.

“Oh my god.” She looks at him. “Do that again.”

He slots his lips over hers and gets a rhythm going. She does her best to move along with him, but she doesn’t mind that he’s doing a lot of the work. She sucks his bottom between her teeth before moving to nibble on his earlobe.

“Harry.” She whines.

“Feels good?”

“Feels so good.” She bites down right on the crook of his neck and he groans.

His hands grip harder on her ass he moves her a little faster. Her clit was rubbing against him in the most perfect way, and she could feel another release approaching. She grips at his hair and tugs hard as she cries out into his chest. He spills into the condom as she comes down from her high. They both take a minute to sit there. He holds her close to him and rubs her back. He kisses her temple and then moves to her now puffy lips. He gives her a soft smile when he sees her mascara had run a bit. He uses his thumbs to help clean up under eyes, and it makes her giggle.

“I’ll just use a makeup wipe.” She pecks at his lips and slowly gets off him. “Blegh, I don’t like the way that feels at all.”

“It’s cause you’re so sensitive, babe.” He gets up and rids himself of the condom, putting his boxers and other clothes back on. He watches as she grabs a towel to wrap around herself.

“Mm, right, I forgot you were a sexologist.” She rolls her eyes. “I’m just gonna pee, I’ll be right back.”

She’s back in a couple minutes and he watches her rifle through her workout clothes. She settles on a pair of cropped leggings, a sports bra, and a t-shirt. She flips her hair over and puts it up in a messy bun, and then grabs a makeup up wipe to get everything off. She sits down next to him to lace up her sneakers.

“I’m not a sexologist.” He mumbles.

“I know, I was being sarcastic.” She smirks.

“I’m aware.” He sits back on her bed and she looks at him. “I did take a women’s health class last year, though, and we talked about things that can happen after sex, so that’s the only reason why I know that.”

“Why in the fuck did you take a women’s health class, Harry?” She nearly laughs.

“I don’t know, my mum said it would be a good idea…and it counted towards one of my gen eds. I actually learned a lot. You ladies, uh, have a lot to deal with.”

“Were there other boys in the class?”

“A couple. I mostly kept to myself, I didn’t want anyone thinking I was there just to meet girls or anything.”

“Tell me, what else did you learn?” She was intrigued now.

“Basically everything that goes on with your body from birth to death.”

“Is that how you learned to be so go in bed?” She blushes.

“No, but please, keep inflating my ego.” He grins. “How are you feeling right now?”

“Good, I may refrain from doing squats because my legs feel like jelly, but other than that, no complaints.” She leans back to kiss his cheek. “I have time to get it together during class anyways.” She looks over at her click. “Which I need to get to now.”

She stands up and so does he. He wraps his arms around her from behind and gives a squeeze before letting her go. As she walked to class she couldn’t wipe the smile off her face. She could definitely get used to having a boyfriend.

//

Things went on like this for a few a weeks. Harry and Y/N would meet up when they could for homework dates, keeping their actual tutoring sessions at the library so no funny business would happen. When they were alone, it was on just about every time. He tried to livestream her away games, and he was at every single one of her home games. When she gave him one of her jerseys from the previous year to wear, he tackled her and showered her with kisses. He wears it to all her home games now.

“You don’t have a game Saturday night, right?” He asks her one evening while doing homework.

“Nope, just during the afternoon, why?”

“There’s going to be free skate Saturday night, would you wanna go? I sort of have to be there for senate. I’ll understand if you won’t feel like it.”

“No! That sounds like fun. I never get to skate just for the hell of it. What time does it start? My, um, mom is coming to the game Saturday and she’s going to want to get dinner afterwards.”

“It starts at eight, and you’re mum’s coming?”

“Mhm.”

“Will I get to meet her?”

“Do you want to?” She raises an eyebrow at him.

“I think I should, you’re my girlfriend after all. Does she know about me?”

“Of course she does! I told her a week or so after we made things official. She’s going to sit in the parent’s section most likely…”

“I don’t mind not sitting with the usual people I go with. It would give me some time to chat with her if I sit with her. I wanna make a good impression.”

“You’re so sweet.” She smiles.

“Your siblings aren’t coming?”

“Nah, they’ll hang back to watch the bar.”

“Cool, well, I’m excited. What have you told her about me?”

“I told her how smart you are and how we met because you’re tutoring me.” She shuffles his papers and laptop away to crawl into his lap. “And I told her how sweet you are, and how you always walk me home when it’s late, and stuff like that.”

“Oh.” He wraps his arms around her waist.

“And I told her about your major, and how you’re on senate, and that you’re an all-around good person. I sent her a picture of you and she agreed that you’re very cute.”

Harry can’t help but smile while he presses his lips to hers.

“The tattoos didn’t throw her off?”

“Not at all.” She scoffs. “My mom is pretty chill for the most part. She just wants me to be happy, and I am, so it’s no skin off her nose.”

“I told my mum about you too, you know. I told about how nice you are and how passionate you are about hockey, and how bright you are.”

“Oh, stop.”

“I mean it! I really admire you, Y/N. It takes a lot of work to balance being a student-athlete.”

“Thanks, Har.” She pecks his lips and nuzzles into his neck.

//

On Saturday, Harry explains to his friends that he’ll be sitting on the parent side of the arena to meet Y/N’s mom. He has the jersey that Y/N gave him on, so he wasn’t hard to find. He feels a tap on his shoulder just as he’s getting some ketchup onto his hotdog. He turns around and looks down to see a woman who sort of looked like Y/N.

“Hi, are you Harry? I could only assume since you’re wearing a jersey with my daughter’s name on it.”

“Yeah! Hi, are you Mrs. Y/L/N?”

“Mhm, please, just call me Angie.” She gives Harry a gentle hug. “It’s so nice to meet you, Y/N told me so much about you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too. Did you want anything from concessions before we go in?”

“Oh, no, I’m all set, but thank you.” She smiles. “I’m so excited, this is the first game I’ve been able to get to all season. I heard you’ve been to every single one.”

“It’s important to support the women’s teams just as much as the men’s.”

“Well, I know how much it means to Y/N, so thank you.”

He follows her into the arena and they sit in a row a few up from the glass. Harry finishes his hotdog and tosses his trash into a nearby bin. Everything goes dark, and lights start flashing. The crowd cheers for both teams as they come onto the ice. Harry cheers and claps for Y/N, and so does her mother.

Y/N assists a goal, and the crowd goes wild. Later on she’s sent to the penalty box for knocking someone over, to which she argued with the ref about, to which Harry had to fight the blood rushing to his dick watching her get fired up. She sits there for the two minutes, and gets back on the ice. Harry chats with Y/N’s mom between periods, and the girls end up winning 3-1. It was a good game.

“I’m glad it’s over, I was really starting to get cold.” She chuckles as they go out to the lobby. “I was planning to take Y/N for a bite to eat once she’s done, would you like to join us?”

“Oh, I don’t wanna impose on your alone time…”

“Don’t be silly! You’re welcome to join, I’m sure she’ll love it.”

“Thanks, yeah, if she’s cool with it I’d be happy to join.”

Twenty or so minutes go by before Y/N emerges in the lobby. She had some ice wrapped around her shoulder, and a huge smile on her face when she sees her mom.

“Mum!” She runs over to her and they hug.

“Hi, sweetie.” She kisses her cheek. “What’s wrong with your shoulder?”

“Nothing, the trainer just wanted it wrapped up.” She shrugs and goes over to hug Harry.

“Great game.” He says.

“Thanks.” She smiles and kisses his cheek. “Do you wanna join us for dinner?”

“Yeah, that’d be great.”

“Perfect, how does Chinese sound?” Her mom asks.

“Works for me.” Y/N says.

“Sounds good.” Harry says.

“Harry, I’ll need to go ready at my place before free skate. Ashley’s having a…get together tonight.”

“That’s fine, I’ll wanna change to.”

They tell each other as they climb into Angie’s car. She laughs to herself and shakes her head at Y/N.

“What?”

“You can just say you’re going to a party. You just won a game, of course you guys are gonna celebrate tonight.” She nudges her.

The three enjoy a nice Chinese buffet. Angie is able to get to know Harry a little more, and Y/N eats it up. Harry knew how to speak with adults since he had to do it often for student senate. He was definitely making a good impression.

“Want to just drop you off at your apartment, honey?”

“That’d be great mom, thanks.”

Angie gets out of the car to give Y/N a big hug and kiss goodbye, and she gives Harry a hug as well. Y/N keys into her apartment, and brings Harry upstairs with her.

“It shouldn’t take me too long, and then we can go to your place.”

“Take your time, we don’t need to be the first people there.” He says, settling to lounge on her bed.

He watches as she picks out a pair of ripped mom jeans and a long sleeve white crop top. She heard him laugh and she turns her head.

“What?”

“What’s the point of that having sleeves if half your stomach isn’t covered?”

“It’s going to be cold on the ice, and hot at Ashley’s. I’m just trying to help myself out for both scenarios.” She takes her hair out of its messy bun and shakes it out. She runs her straightener through it quickly, and then changes. She puts a little makeup on and looks at Harry. “Well?”

“Look good enough to eat, babe.”

“Don’t start.” She giggles. “Let’s go, you take longer than me to change.”

“I do not.” He says with fake offense.

“Yes, you do.” She boops his nose and tugs him out of her room.

“We’re going to free skate tonight, and then we’ll come to Ashley’s.” She says to Amanda, peeping her head into her room.

“Okay, we’ll see you later, have fun!”

Y/N and Harry make their way to his apartment, and head up to his room. He puts his contacts in, and peels his jersey and undershirt off. He finds a short-sleeve button up in his closet and throws that on with some jeans. He finds a jacket to wear over it and puts his beanie back on.

“Alright, ready?”

“Mhm.”

They make their way to the ice arena and get their skates. There was a small line which Harry was happy to see. He watches as Y/N nimbly laces up her skates, and she looks at him.

“Do you want some help with those?” She asks.

“Would you mind? I feel like I can never get them tight enough.”

“The trick is tug them down here first.” She kneels in front of him and it makes him blush to see her basically on her knees before him. “See? Feel the difference?” She looks up at him innocently.

“Um, yeah.” He swallows and she ties up his other skate. “Thanks.”

“No worries.”

She helps him up and they make their way onto the ice. There was a good amount of people skating, and there was music playing. Harry looks over to see his friends from senate.

“Hold my hand?” He asks and she giggles, taking it without question. They both gently glide their way over. “Nice turn out, huh?” He says to Andrew and Billy.

“Yeah! Awesome Weekends really pulled it together.” Billy says.

“I think the free cocoa and popcorn was nice a touch.” Andrew points over to small station off to the side of the arena. “Hi, Y/N, that was a great game earlier.”

“Oh! Thanks.” She smiles.

“I thought your penalty was bullshit, that girl nudged you first.” Billy says.

“That’s what I said! This is why they should just let us fight each other, it’s so annoying.”

“Where’s Ari?” Harry asks, looking around.

“Ah! She’s here with Scott Paxton.” Andrew points to the other end of the rink. “My jaw dropped when I saw her walk in with him.”

“Oh good, I’m glad she’s got a date.” Harry says relieved.

“Well, are we going to stand around, or are we skating?” Y/N asks.

“Aren’t you tired?” Billy asks.

“Not at all! I never get to just fuck around on the ice.”

She starts skating backwards to the beat of the song that’s playing, and Harry glides towards her, taking her hands in his.

“How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Skate backwards.”

“Oh! It’s easy!” She frees her hands from him and skates around him so she’s behind him, hands on his hips. “It’s just like skating forwards, only backwards.”

“You’d be a horrible tutor, Y/N.” Harry chuckles.

“Shut up! You’ll see what I’m saying, just move with me, I’ve got you.”

He looks over his shoulder so he can see what they’re doing, and he watches as she moves her legs and he tries to do the same.

“See! You’re getting the hang of it.”

“Just don’t let go.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Y/N ends up skating around a bit while Harry talks with some of the student senate people towards the end of the event, but all in all they had a great time together. She helps him get his skates off, and he sighs with relief.

“I don’t know how you wear these all the time.” He says he gets his boots back on.

“You just get used to it.” She shrugs and stands up. “Ready to go have some more fun?”

“Mhm.” He takes her hand as they walk out of the arena, and towards Ashley’s apartment. “Did you have fun?”

“Yeah! It was great.”

“It was like being on a little date, huh?”

“Mhm.” She smiles up at him. “You looked cute skating.”

“Did I? Thought I looked like an idiot.”

“Oh stop, you’re decent enough for someone who doesn’t skate every day of their life.”

“Last year I took one of those one credit courses so I could take a skating lesson. That’s the only reason I didn’t fall flat on my ass.” This makes Y/N laugh and loop her arm through Harry’s to keep him close. “I liked the way you hung onto me to show me some stuff.”

“See, I ended up being a pretty decent teacher after all. Our methods are just different.”

They get to Ashley’s and head right in. She tells them they can leave their jackets in the hall closet if they want, and then head into the kitchen. Y/N was allowed to have whatever alcohol she wanted, and by proxy, so could Harry. He makes them up some vodka cranberries, and they both head downstairs to join a game of beer pong.

Y/N goes off to hang out with her friends, and Harry does the same, knowing a few people at the house. She does some shots with them and makes her way back over to Harry, tugging him away to come dance with her. She grinds her ass against his pelvis, and his hands press into her hips. She loved that Harry wasn’t one of those guys that was too scared to dance. It made going to parties with him so much more fun. After a couple of songs, she can feel how incredibly hard he is against her.

“Yours or mine tonight?” He asks as he nips at her neck. Her arm hooks up around him so she can tug at his hair. Her head falls back to his shoulder.

“Yours, want the bigger bed.”

“Yeah? Wanna have a little more room, babe?”

“Mhm.” She nearly whines.

“You ‘bout ready to go?”

“Yeah, take me home, baby.” She pouts at him.

He lets her walk in front of him to hide his boner as they grab their jackets. He gives her a piggy-back ride back to his place, and he gets her inside, up the stairs, and into his room. They both kick off their shoes, and once their jackets are off, she’s on him. Her tongue licks its way into his mouth and he happily sucks on it, loving the way he could taste the cranberry juice from her mixer.

Her hands slide down his torso, unbuttoning his shirt the rest of the way, and then she tugs at his belt. His hands grope her ass and then her breasts before pulling her shirt off. He places needy kisses down her chest before getting her bra off, and tackling her onto the bed. She giggles as she gets a little more comfortable.

“Want me to suck on it first, Harry?”

“Please.” He flops next to her and she straddles him. She kisses down his chest and undoes his pants. She tugs his hard cock out and puts her mouth right on him.

He bucks his hips up slightly as she pumps what she can’t fit. She tugs his pants and boxers down further so she can grip onto his thighs. His hands rake through her hair to keep it back for her.

“So fucking good, Y/N.” He bites his bottom lip as he watches her bob her head up and down. She moans around him as a response, and he nearly loses it. “I’m gonna come if you keep doing that, and I’d like to fuck you, so.” He pulls her head off him, and his mouth falls open when he sees the string of spit between his tip and her bottom lip. “Christ.” He yanks her up to him and crashes their mouths together.

He bites and sucks on her bottom lip, and she rolls her hips down on him. He winces, not liking the way her jeans feel against his bare dick. He gets her on her back to get her pants off. Once they’re both naked, he hovers over her so he can kiss her lips again, sliding his fingers between her folds. She gasps when she feels two fingers slide inside her. He twists and curls them and it has her moving her hips along the same way. He watches her face and love the way she makes eye contact with him.

“You like that, babe?” He asks.

“Yes, fuck, don’t stop.” She pleads with him as if he would ever be so mean to tease her and pull his fingers away. He’d give her anything she wanted, she never needed to beg.

He kisses on her neck while his thumb rubs against her clit. She scratches at his shoulders, and she moans out his name. He takes his fingers away and kisses her before reaching for a condom.

“Har?”

“Yeah?” He asks as he rolls it on.

“Would you bend me over the bed?”

“Y/N, if you’re fucking with me I’m gonna be super pissed.” He glares at her.

“I’m not! I mean it, please! I like when we do it from behind, I just wanna try it this way.”

“Alright, get up.” He helps her off the bed, and then she bends over in front of him, propping herself up on her elbows. She wiggles her bottom at him, and he gives her a little smack, making her giggle. “Ready?”

“Mhm, give it to me.”

He lines himself up and pushes inside. She moans out lowly. He starts out by gripping her hips, rocking in and out of her. He wanted to ease her into it.

“I can handle more, Harry, it’s okay.”

“Want it harder, baby?”

“Please.”

He pulls out almost all the way and slams back inside her. Her mouth falls open, and she grips the blankets as he does it over and over. He has to grip onto the back of her neck to keep her in place once he gets an even pace going. All she could hear was his skin slapping against hers. His other hand slips around to rub on her clit and she backs up against him.

“Think you can fuck yourself on my cock while I rub on you?”

“I can try…” She was so fucking wet just from hearing him say that. She moves forward and back, on and off his cock while he rubs on her clit.

“That’s it, babe, use me.”

“Jesus, Harry.” She groans, and bites her bottom lip so she could concentrate. “Oh my god.”

He presses further into her while she backed up on him. She loses it then. He has to move one of his hands over her mouth to muffle her screams. He spills into the condom, the feeling of her squeezing around him did him in. He kisses the backs of her shoulders before pulling out and getting rid of the condom. She collapses onto the bed.

“Alright?” He rubs her back and helps her the rest of the way up.

“Yeah, that was just…wow.” She looks up at him. “I need to pee.”

She looks around and finds her jersey that he was wearing earlier. She was much more comfortable going by herself now, so she waddles out of his room. He can’t help but grow hard again. She just looked so sexy only in her jersey. She comes back in looking freshly fucked and she raises an eyebrow at him.

“What?”

“Nothing…um…” His face was flushed and her eyes flick down to his hard cock and back to his eyes.

“Are you already hard again?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?” She chuckles.

“You look so fucking hot like that. I can wait if you don’t wanna go again so soon.”

“What would you have me do?”

“Come sit on me, bounce up and down?”

“Okay.” She bites her bottom lip.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I’m still pretty wet, see?” She lifts the bottom of her jersey so he could see. “Even with going to the bathroom, I just couldn’t help but think about how good it felt.”

“You’re soaked.”

“Mhm.”

“Get over here.” He leans over to his desk and grabs a condom, but she takes it from him. “What are you doing?”

“Do you…I don’t know…maybe not want to use one?”

“That’s how accidents happen.”

“I’m on the pill, I never miss one. I have them with me so I can take it in the morning like I usually do. You could come on my stomach of you feel more comfortable with that. I just wanna feel you.”

“You do?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” She goes to take the jersey off but he shakes his head no. “Leave it on.” He says lowly.

She crawls onto his lap and sinks down on him. He lays back and lets her go to work. She moves around in a circle at first and then starts to move up and down. His hands grips her hips and then smooth over the globes of her ass.

“You’re so fucking sexy like this, you have no idea.”

“You feel so good, Harry.” She throws her head back as she bounces up and down on him.

“Shit, so do you.”

He wasn’t going to last long, but he wanted to make sure she got hers before he did, so he lifts the jersey a little to rub her sensitive clit.

“Harry!” She gasps and claws down his chest with her nails. “Shit, oh my god!” She comes around him much sooner than she thought.

He pulls her off him, and press her front into the mattress. He lifts the jersey up so he can come on her ass and back. He sighs with relief once he’s done.

“Let me get a towel, babe, one second.” He slides his boxers on and rummages in his closet. Once he finds a spare towel he leaves the room. She was confused but when he comes back she feels warm water on her. He flips her over and wipes between her legs. Her eyes grow wide. He had never done that before. He looks at her and blushes. “Sorry, was that weird?”

“No! I just…you’re just always a gentleman, Harry.” She chuckles.

He tosses the towel into his hamper and practically rips the jersey off her so they could lay skin to skin. He pecks kisses to her lips and chest and rubs her back as they settle in. He pulls the blankets up over them and they both sigh.

“I like your bed so much better than mine.” She nuzzles into his chest. “So cozy.”

“Your bed is cozy too.”

“Yeah, but we have way less room, and as much as I love you, we both get too sweaty in my dinky bed.” She didn’t realize what she said until she feels his body stiffen under hers. She props herself up to look down at him. “I mean, I just meant, um-“ He cups one of her cheeks.

“Don’t you dare try to take it back.”

“It just slipped out…I-“

“Stop.” He shakes his head. “You love me?”

“Harry, I…yeah, I do, I love you.” He pulls her face down to his so he can kiss her.

“I love you, too.”

“You do?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” She smiles. “Well, this is nice for us.”

“Yeah.” He chuckles. “It’s very nice.” She starts laughing too. “What is it?” He asks as he turns them both over so he can spoon her.

“Nothing, I’m just really fucking glad I had no idea how the brain functioned so I could get you as a tutor.”

[ironhusband]

Read on AO3 

Honestly, Bucky had expected that dating Sam would be easier than this.

With everything that he and Sam had gone through to finally get together, he had wanted everything to be smooth sailing once he finally had Sam. Their perfect happy ending, cut straight from the movies and into their lives. They deserved it.

That wasn’t real life, however.

When Bucky finally had Sam in his arms, there were a myriad of relationship things that Bucky had to learn. He had to get used to all of Sam's quirks and he had the entirety of Sam’s family to win over. He had to learn the way to this obscure place where Sam liked to buy his orange juice and he had to study for days to remember that Sam’s aunt liked orange jewelry. But if Bucky was honest? He didn’t mind that part. He didn’t mind getting to know what Sam was like in a relationship or meeting Sam’s family. That would never be a hardship for him.

What he did mind was that stupid fucking drone.

It all started with Sam and Bucky making out on the couch. This wasn’t unusual in itself; sometimes the news was boring and Sam and Bucky got distracted. Sucking on Sam’s tongue was more interesting than anything else, frankly.

Sam was pressed against the couch by Bucky’s hips, his hands wandering under Bucky’s shirt as Bucky took Sam’s lips between his teeth. Sam removed his hand from Bucky's shirt to run his fingers through Bucky’s hair, causing Bucky to pinch Sam’s waist. Bucky was coming up to change the angle of the kiss and-

When he looked up the drone was staring directly at them.

It took a long time for Bucky to recognize that their home was safe and not, as a reflex, shoot at any sort of intimidating sight and sound. Still, he startled and yelled, “why the fuck is your pet staring at us?!”

Sam looked back at what made Bucky exclaim and smiled at Redwing. “Oh, hi, there, little guy,” he cooed, “enjoying the show?”

“Sam,” Bucky hissed, annoyed at his boyfriend’s reaction, glancing back and forth between the drone and Sam, “he is staring at us."

Sam shrugged, wrapping his arms around Bucky's shoulders, "so?"

Bucky spluttered, exasperated, "He is recording us. How can you be so calm about this? What if he puts this on the internet?”

“He won’t put this on the internet,” Sam rolled his eyes.

“Why not?” Bucky challenged, knowing the real reason. Sam was still insisting it was Redwing who put the footage of him falling through the tree on the internet, and he was determined to make him confess it was his doing (that video got 1000000 likes!).

“Well, first of all,” Sam explained, straightening up, smug grin on, “because no one wants to see you kissing.”

“You want to see me kissing,” Bucky countered.

“My one flaw,” Sam teased, “and two, his camera isn’t on. He just likes flying around sometimes.”

Bucky glanced at the drone, whose cold, robot eyes, peeking just beneath the shell on the drone, stared back at him. “Can’t you make him stop?”

“I wasn’t listening when Stark did the seminar about the AI inside him. Lost the manual too.”

Bucky looked at the drone again, and then quickly turned away while he muttered, “there must be a deactivation code.”

“I sorta don’t want to find it,” Sam confessed, “I like his quirks.”

“But he isn’t supposed to be flying around with his camera off. It isn’t what he was made for.”

“He’s sleepwalking,” Sam said, fondly.

“He’s creepy.”

Sam gasped, “how dare you say that?!”

“Robots shouldn’t sleepwalk!”

“Redwing isn’t a robot! He’s a drone!”

“Same difference!”

“It is so not same difference. Besides, Redwing is better than just a normal robot, he is-”

He and Sam bickered for the rest of the evening and Bucky forgot all about the drone when they moved into the bedroom. But it began like this.

~~~

Bucky woke up to get milk the next morning. Sam usually got up earlier than Bucky, waking to go run. He would accidentally wake Bucky up by kissing his cheek before he went out (running reminded Sam of Steve and sometimes he needed a little reassurance), and then Bucky would burrow into the blankets for half an hour before getting up to eat cereal. Bucky liked the early hours of the day when he had the house to himself and could wake up properly before Sam would get home. Before they moved in together, Bucky had made the mistake of getting up after Sam had already returned from his run, and he didn’t have the brainpower to retort when Sam called him a heathen for pouring his milk before his cereal.

When he got up this morning, the drone was there, staring at him.

Bucky was mid-yawn when he yelped at the flying thing in front of his face.

“Holy fucking shit, man, you nearly gave me a heart attack!” he exclaimed at the drone, clutching at his chest.

“That’s not good,” the imaginary Sam in his head said, looking, amused, at Bucky’s clutching-his-pearls position, “you need to watch your heart at your age.”

The drone didn’t say anything. Bucky rolled his eyes. “What are you looking at?” he challenged.

The drone still didn’t say anything.

Bucky moved cautiously, one leg in front of the other while he watched the drone, “I’m just getting breakfast.”

The drone turned his head towards him with his every moment. The whirring, easier to hear in the quiet morning, gave Bucky chills.

He glanced once at the drone and then once at the refrigerator before deciding to ignore the robot. Even if it was creepy that his camera wasn't on but he could still follow him, what would he do? Shoot him? Sam disarmed the drone every time he was off duty. So Bucky opened the fridge and got out his milk, blocking the drone from his view with the door.

Sam hated it when he did it, but he unscrewed the milk and drank some of it (”we exchange spit regularly, I don’t see the big deal.” “You put it so romantically~”). Cold milk always helped Bucky wake up and he “ahh”ed when he stopped feeling the thirst he always felt when he was just waking up.

He shut the door of the refrigerator, and apparently, Redwing has gotten twenty steps closer.

He screamed at the drone near his face and threw the cap at him.

~~~

Turns out, Redwing’s camera was on and Sam laughed for 20 minutes at the footage.

~~~

The next time it happened, Bucky was coming home from one of his therapy appointments. The BARF sessions were always a pain in the ass (reliving his past wasn’t remotely fun) but Bucky knew he sometimes had to go to them to make sure he wouldn’t go all Winter Soldier again. Anything to keep Sam safe.

Bucky liked to come home and cuddle with his boyfriend (who usually also had an exhausting day of being Captain America) when he got home, but today was different.

A purring Redwing was found in Sam’s lap when he went into the living room.

“Hey!” Sam greeted, seeing unable to give him a welcoming kiss due to the robot in his lap, “how did it go?”

“The usual,” Bucky replied casually. He eyed the drone, “does he usually... do that?”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded, “he noticed I was bummed so he came to cheer me up. Isn’t that right, Red?”

Sam pet Redwing’s red-paint-coated shell and the robot buzzed happily.

“Weird...” Bucky mumbled under his breath and then flopped next to Sam, “why were you bummed?”

“I fucking hate the UN,” Sam announced, “excuse me for not wanting to end up at jail for accidentally scratching some rich dude’s car.”

Bucky kissed Sam’s cheek, “I’m sorry you had a bad day.”

“’ Is okay. We’ll settle it all eventually. Just wish that I didn’t have to do it.”

“No, you don’t,” Bucky pointed out, knowing how much his boyfriend loved being Captain America.

Sam smiled shyly, that smile of his that made Bucky fall head over heels for him, “no, I don’t.”

Bucky kissed Sam’s neck. Sam’s smiles would always get him soft, which meant he had to kiss every inch of him. Sam giggled at Bucky rolling the skin between his lips and he brought a hand to the back of Bucky’s head to caress his nape. Bucky kissed further down his neck, reaching Sam’s collarbone and-

Sam gently pushed him away. Redwing was buzzing irregularly in his lap.

“Hey, there, little fella, don’t be mad,” Sam tried to appease him by stroking him, “Bucky just distracted me for a moment.”

Bucky huffed, disappointed at the interruption. “Not fair,” Bucky grumbled, “I had Sam cuddling dibs.”

“Awww,” Sam teased, his trademark smug grin on his face, “are you jealous?”

Bucky huffed and pushed his shoulder, “no, I’m not jealous. I love you and your weird robot.”

Sam laughed and didn’t retort, resting his head on Bucky’s shoulder as they turned on the TV.

~~~

Bucky did get a little jealous when Sam had to sleep on the couch because he didn't want to disturb Redwing ‘napping’ on his lap. He was still jealous, despite how adorable Sam looked with the blanket around his shoulders and drooling on the backrest of the couch.

~~~

Bucky could have handled hogging Sam or Redwing hovering or wondering if the drone was recording while he and Sam were just being domestic, but he drew the line at forcing him to stay in his apartment.

“Okay, freak,” Bucky announced to the drone, “I’m going shopping. Do you need anything?”  

The drone didn’t respond. Bucky pulled the jacket on and stuffed his keys in one of the pockets. The drone followed his movements as he got ready to go outside. “I’m going out now,” Bucky informed him before he turned around to leave the apartment.

The drone was staring right back at his face as he moved towards the door. Bucky didn’t jump this time, long used to how Redwing could sneak up on people. “God, how do you do that? Did Stark figure out teleportation or something?”

The drone flew mute, as always. Bucky sighed and went to open the door but Redwing blocked his hand before he could reach the knob. “Ow! Son of a bitch!” he cursed as his hand crushed against the drone, “what, what’s the matter? I can’t leave my home now?”

The drone didn’t respond.

“You know, most pets beg for their owners to take them outside.”

The drone still didn’t respond.

Bucky sighed, and reached for the door, more gently this time, and managed to successfully open the door.

Bucky cheered triumphantly, “not so tough now, huh?”

The drone didn’t show any sign that he understood but when Bucky tried to exit he blocked his way.

“Seriously?” Bucky huffed. He moved an inch to the left quickly and the drone zoomed towards him. “Seriously?” he complained and tried to move another inch, slower this time. The drone followed his painstakingly slow movements, centimeter for centimeter. “You motherfucker.”

He tried to get through the door from the left side and the right side, but wherever he went, Redwing followed him. “I’m going to walk out of this door like a normal person,” he told Redwing, “I’m not going to limbo under you, or jump over you, or fight you or anything like that, so. Get. Out. Of. My. Way.”

Three minutes later, Bucky found himself on his knees, face to face with the drone, “you know, if Sam didn’t like you so much, I would dismantle you piece by piece.”

~~~

Sam paused at the open doorway, looking at his boyfriend and his drone staring at one another.

“Are you having a staring contest?” Sam quipped, “because that’s our thing.”

“It won’t let me leave,” Bucky complained.

Sam raised an eyebrow, walking through the front door, “it? You used to call him him.” Redwing followed him, softly nudging Sam’s head and asking to be pet.

Bucky threw his hands in the air in frustration, “him is for things who aren’t menaces!”

“That’s not my experience,” Sam joked, petting Redwing as it asked.

Bucky glared at him, “that’s not funny. That drone is the executor of Tony Stark’s will and it is trying to kill me!”

Sam laughed, “don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic?”

“Two days ago, I swear I saw it give me a withering stare while it was on your chest.”

“He’s a drone, Bucky,” Sam emphasized, “they don’t have expressions.”  

“Doesn’t stop him from doing all the other human stuff!”

“Bucky,” Sam shook his head, “Redwing likes you.”

Bucky scoffed, “if Redwing was armed, it'd kill me in my sleep.”

“No, he wouldn’t.”

“When’s our next battle? I bet it'll finish the job then!”

“If only I had a schedule of that...”

“That thing drives me crazy!”

“Bucky!” Sam exclaimed, “all those things Redwing does, he does because he likes you.”

Bucky blinked.

“Think about it,” Sam began explaining, “for weeks after you moved in, he hasn’t moved from his spot, but now he has suddenly decided to move?”

“It has decided it can no longer be passive about me anymore?” Bucky suggested.

“Or-” Sam suggested his interpretation, “-he decided he can trust you and he wants to get to know you.”

Bucky peaked at Redwing behind him, “seems unlikely.”

Sam raised his hands, “don’t ask me to explain his bad taste.”

Bucky looked at the drone, “it likes me.”

Sam nodded, “and unfortunately, so do I.”

"It has a weird way of showing it," Bucky pointed out.

Sam grinned, "well, so do you."

~~~

“What do I do?” Bucky whispered to Sam, panicked.

Sam shook his head. "Pet him, you moron," he told him fondly.

The drone has decided to land in his lap. Changing Redwing’s batteries was like feeding a dog, and now Redwing has decided that Bucky deserved affections. Bucky carefully put his hand on top of the drone’s surprisingly warm metal and started rubbing his hand on the shell.

“There you go,” Sam congratulated him and put his head on Bucky’s shoulder, his hand on the drone, joining the petting. He turned on the TV, “what do you want to watch tonight?”

Bucky looked at Sam, at how calm and happy he looked because of Bucky and Redwing getting along. He looked down at the drone steadily purring louder in his lap.

“Yeah,” he thought, “this is a happy ending.”