#he made a massive fuss about me meeting his friend when he was down

[panspaming]

He asked me to do a fucking salsa dancing workshop with him. this fucking boy.

[chelseeebe]

happy coincidences

18+. smut. mdni. modern au.

day four of spooky week back with steve who meets reader at robin’s halloween party, only, you may have more than just costumes in common

a/n: in honour of joe saying he thinks that modern steve would have a swiftie girlfriend.. i had to make r a swiftie

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

Louise had called it off. 

Again. 

“I think you just need to get the fuck over it and get the fuck over someone else,” Robin states plainly, continuing to decorate her scarily bright orange pumpkin cookies. 

“Rob,” he sighs, dipping his finger into the leftover batter, “it doesn’t work like that.” 

“But it does,” ignoring his pleas of despair, “I’ve seen you break up with hundreds of women and not once have you been so pathetic about it,” snatching the bowl from his reach, “we’re going to get you laid and if you’re still sad about it after then I’ll take pity on you.” 

Steve frowns, a deep set crease between his thick brows. Sex would’ve normally cheered him up, no doubt. But Louise was different. 

They’d been on-again, off-again for almost a year now, too far gone for some meaningless pussy to fix. 

-

“No fucking way,” Robin exclaims, grabbing his hand and tugging him off towards the other side of the kitchen, “this is perfect! Perfect!” muttering along to herself as Steve's heels dig into the floor in protest. 

“What’re you doing?” he spits, almost knocking her over when she stops abruptly in front of him.

A group of girls sit equally as confused on the couch, smiling up at Robin with a shared baffled look in their eye. 

That’s when he sees the hat, pink and sparkly, slowly trailing down to the matching costume. So that’s why she’d dragged him over here. You were unintentionally matching with him. The perfect Barbie and Ken duo, a fitting part in Robin’s master plan to get him over Louise. 

“Can you believe you’re matching?” she fusses, fingering the details of your jean jacket, “I don’t think you two have met before? How crazy is that?” pinching Steve's arm, nudging him to say something.. anything really. 

You hum, smiling up at him from underneath the brim of your cowboy hat, “you look great,” eyeing the tassels around his pecks, the vest that now felt a touch too much. 

He felt stupid before but now, he felt utterly idiotic. Realising quite how extravagant and completely unnecessary the costume was. 

“Thanks,” he nods, receiving another sharp pinch from his best friend, forcing him to cough up a real reply, “yeah.. you do too.”

Your eyes fall back to Robin as she backs slowly away, “I’ll let you two get to know each other, okay? i’ve gotta check on my.. cookies! Yeah! My cookies!” 

A bare-faced lie. Those fucking cookies had been out of the over for hours at this point. Steve had taxed a few for the inconvenience of her pestering him all night. 

You flash him a thin-lipped smile, clearly as interested in this as he was. “Your girlfriend make you dress up as Ken, huh?” your own friends shuffling to the other side of the couch, away from the awkward conversation. 

“Oh! No.. no, Rob made me,” unsure of whether you were implying the massive lesbian that had forced him over here was his girlfriend or if there was another lady in his life. 

Neither would be true.  

Robin hollers from across the room, “he’s a liar! He wanted to be Ken all on his own!” before disappearing into the kitchen to check on her cookies. 

Your smile grows, “hey.. I don’t judge,” taking a slow sip from your glass, totally undeserving of having Robin force Steve onto your night. 

God he needs a drink. Or five. 

Maybe after a couple beers he’d have the confidence to talk to you properly. 

“I really liked the movie, okay? it was fun,” deciding to lean into it, slowly but surely. “And you know, Barbie’s hot.” 

Oh. 

He doesn’t just mean Margot Robbie either. 

Your cleavage spills out of your shirt, only really visible from this angle he was leering from. 

“She is,” you laugh, “I’m sorry- what was your name again?”

“Steve,” offering his hand for you to shake. Why did he do that? You aren’t agreeing on a new marketing strategy for fuck sake. 

“Nice to meet you, Steve,” rabbiting your name as if his brain would do anything other than call you Barbie all night. “You look like you need a drink.” 

He nods, chuckling under his breath, “I do.” 

“Well,” you stand, unexpectedly a lot closer than probably intended, “let’s get you a drink, Steve.” 

-

The party thumps on, you and Steve still reluctantly circle around one another, both too awkward or maybe just unwilling to take it further. 

Robin makes it known that Steve would be a colossal fucking idiot for not immediately trying to win you over, making it very obvious as she sidles up next to him at the makeshift beer-pong table. 

“What is your problem?” she hisses, shoving a cup of liquid courage into his chest, “make a move before someone else does, idiot.”

“I dunno,” exhaling pathetically, “I just don’t think I’m ready yet,” eyeing you from across the table, too engrossed in the game of beer-pong to care about his whining. 

Robin’s sharp elbow connects with his ribcage, “don’t be so fucking stupid,” snarling loud enough for him to hear over the music, “I think you should go for it. God knows I’m sick of hearing you cry over Louise.” 

He truly wants to be offended, even opening his mouth to offer a rebuttal, though nothing comes out. 

Regrettably, Robin was right. 

Louise had made it clear that she no longer wanted him, so why was he still so hung up over her? It was exhausting. Not only for Robin, but him too. 

The ping pong ball lands in Steve’s drink with a loud plunk, pulling him out of his head to find you already smiling back at him. 

“I think that means I win,” rocking on your heels, a syrupy sweet smile sticks to your lips. You deserved far better than the lacklustre night he was giving you, that’s for sure. 

Steve nods, downing the rest of his drink and attempting to hide his grimace as the liquid burns his throat. Robin had slipped him pure ethanol or something, her grin made her ill intentions very clear. 

You continue to beat his ass for a while, Steve was better at basketball than beer-pong that’s for certain. He didn’t care anyway, the new-found haze in his head was welcomed, sidling closer and closer to your side as his chest warms up. 

“I’m just gonna go to the bathroom,” he whispers, lips practically touching your ear, this was the bravest he’d gotten all night, perhaps he wasn’t such a lost cause after all. 

He stumbles into the bathroom, finding his balance against the cold wall when his phone buzzes against his thigh. 

what r u doing tonight? 

The message reads, sending a sinking feeling through his chest. 

Louise, making sure than even though they’re not together anymore, he can’t move on. 

Why does she even care? 

Why does he care enough to respond? 

He stews on it, using the bathroom to buy himself some time to figure out what he should do. Slinking off into the hallway after a moment of consideration, finger hovering over the call button for an embarrassingly long amount of time until he just does it. 

It rings. And rings. And rings. 

“Hello?” Louise’s voice echoes into his ear. 

“Hey.” 

There’s an empty sigh down the line, “I didn’t mean.. that text wasn’t meant for you.” 

“Oh.” 

Another dagger to his chest, piercing through his thumping heart. The confirmation he needed that not only did she not care about him but that she had moved on. 

“Steve I’m-“ 

The tone beeps, not allowing her to take up any more of his time. She didn’t care, he shouldn’t care. That was the end of it.

He slinks down onto the stairs, eyeing the door. He could be out of here before you even remembered he existed, sulking in his room like he’d wanted to in the first place. 

The music gets louder, light creeping in as the door creaks open, your face soft as your eyes meet his hunched over frame, like a pathetic little weasel. 

“I thought I should find my Ken again,” chuckling awkwardly. 

Your Ken? That was a little presumptuous of you. 

He’s immediately sorry. 

Soured by the conversation with Louise. An unnecessary hindrance to his entire night. 

“You okay?” you pry, no doubt noticing his glum demeanour, coming to sit on the cramped step next to him.

Steve sighs, looking at the blank phone screen in front of him, deciding whether to impede all of his misery onto you or to not ruin this entire night. 

Remembering Robin’s, albeit harsh, words. 

He goes for the latter. 

“Yeah.. I’m good,” knee knocking into yours, “are you?” 

You nod, smiling softly, “I’m gonna head home now, I just wanted to let you know that it was really nice to meet you, Steve,” standing from the staircase, leaving a sudden, cold ache to his side, “I hope your.. girl problems get better soon.”

they would, almost immediately, get better if he just stopped acting like a pussy. 

You weren’t exactly being inconspicuous with your flirting either. This was on him and him alone. 

He’s not shocked Robin had divulged to you all about his lingering annoyance of a relationship, no doubt trying to sell him to you at the same time too. 

So Steve does something he never does. He thinks on his feet. 

“Let me walk you back,” jumping up, “it’s dark and i can’t let you walk home alone,” a contained smile, the previously empty confidence now coming back.

You pucker your lips, tilting your head to the side, all the while Steve prays to God that you’ll give him one last chance. 

“Sure,” shrugging coyly, as if you weren’t banking on him volunteering anyway. 

“Alright,” he grins, enthusiastically nodding his head, “I’ll just say goodbye to Rob and then we can.. go,” faltering now that he’d made the leap into uncharted territory. 

Steve had been a master at one night stands, only that was two years ago and Louise had served a harsh knock to his confidence. Besides all that, you were worth more than just one night. 

“I’m gonna walk this one home and then head home myself,” announcing your departure to the dwindling room, heads spinning to watch the door. 

Robin contains her grin, only just. Sipping on her drink to keep her blathering mouth occupied, she’d put in the work to even get him here in the first place, now all he needed to do was not fuck it up. 

A chorus of goodbyes ring out behind you, stepping into the cool October air, he suddenly wishes he was wearing a little more than just his rhinestone shirt. 

“This one?” you tease once out onto the street, wrapping 

your arms around yourself. 

Steve inhales, staring at the star filled sky, fully embracing his cringe, “don’t.. don’t talk about it.” 

“Why?” you laugh, stumbling into him as you traipse down the road, “you don’t remember my name, do you?” 

“Of course I do,” blowing the air out of his cheeks with full confidence, “your name… is Barbie,” so certain that that’d work on you. 

You scoff, stopping dead in your tracks, “you fucking forgot,” in complete disbelief that he’d even attempt to bullshit his answer, “you’re unbelievable Steve,” really making your point, only slightly pissed off. 

“Don’t do that,” unable to hold the smile from his face any longer, “I can’t help that you’re the best Barbie I’ve ever seen, you know?” 

Your eyes roll back, striding past him but not without reiterating your name again, perfectly clear and right into his ear. You’re not really annoyed, at least he doesn’t think so. Steve’s sure he’ll remember your name forever after tonight, one way or another. 

He expertly changes the conversation for the rest of the duration of the walk back, asking about your job and not-so-discreetly slipping your name into every other sentence. 

“Well, this is me,” you smile, stopping just before the house with the extravagantly decorated door, a plethora of pumpkins litter the steps all as badly carved as the other. 

He marvels at the display, the dedication to the holiday, Eddie would laugh in his face if he ever suggested carving pumpkins for their house. “Alright.. it was really nice to meet you tonight,” standing with his arms tucked neatly behind his back, “I’ve had a really nice time with you.” 

You nod, slowly ascending the steps to the door, “you too, Steve. Are you.. close to here or..?” weighing up whether inviting him inside was a sane idea. 

“Oh no,” shaking his head, once perfected hair now falling into his warm face, “I live like.. two miles that way,” pointing in the direction you’d walked from. 

“And you decided to walk me home? Why didn’t you say something?” falling into a fit of laughter. He didn’t blame you, really, it would be crazy to anyone else. 

“Because I’m a gentleman,” smiling sweetly, “it’s not a big deal,” he shrugs, though he really doesn’t anticipate having to actually walk home. 

“Well thanks a lot,” unsure of the sarcasm twinge to your tone, “I didn’t realise Ken was such a gentleman.” 

“Of course I am,” bowing down to tip his imaginary hat, a total performance all just to earn a sweet giggle from your mouth. 

You turn, just before opening the door, your eyes low and dark,  “you wouldn’t wanna.. come in, would you?” shivering under the moonlight. 

“Do you? Want me to come in, I mean,” Steve can’t really think straight at all, he’s been so preoccupied with Louise to even think about the possibility of anything more happening between you two. 

But now he’s here, he can’t stop his dick from twitching in his pants. You are pretty, gorgeous really. He’d be an idiot to say no. 

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want you to,” scoffing quietly. 

“Well I wouldn’t want to upset you now,” cocking his grin to the side as he makes his way up the steps. 

You shake your head, unmoving when he reaches the top, your bodies inches apart. The tension thick, as it had been all night. only now he was able to really feel it. Had you been looking at him like this all night? With your features pinched and your chest heaving.

Steve doesn’t think so, but then, he was so oblivious that it wouldn’t surprise him at all. 

Excitement and slight intoxication courses through his veins, an excitement he hadn’t felt in months. Louise was never this happy or eager to have sex with him, it felt something like a chore most times. 

You spin, breaking the tension abruptly, unlocking the door to your dark house and ushering him inside. 

“You live alone?” he asks, wondering if any nosy roommates would be interfering tonight. 

“Nope,” flicking the light on, “they’re all still at the party,” it’s obvious now, in the light. Pairs of shoes strewn across the floor and pictures of grinning girls line the walls, his gaze is drawn to the one of you in the summer, beaming from ear to ear as the sun beats down on your face. 

Not to mention the cherry red bikini peeking out of the bottom of the picture. 

“That’s.. good,” twisting his lips into a shrouded smirk. 

“Oh yeah?” kicking your shoes off, the tense atmosphere made slightly softer by your nonchalance, “why’s that?” you level with him, the space between you shrinking with every step.  

“I just meant.. it’s good that you don’t live all on.. your own,” struggling to make sense of his rambling with your eyes staring up at him like that, glittering while ever-so-slightly judging. 

You laugh, loud and sudden, “I think you should just stop talking and kiss me,” teetering on your tiptoes as you wet your lips, an entire night of dancing around one another had led to you barking instructions at him. 

He needed it, to be honest, completely fumbling around, his nerve shot and depleted. 

Soft skin meets his cheek, making the first move while he stands buffering, only snapping out of his trance when your thumb grazes his lip, pressing his lips to yours in a haste. Steve had wasted too much time overthinking every move, decidedly trying not to fuck this up all night. 

He can feel your smile grow against his lips, taking the control over the kiss back by finding your waist with his cold hands. Opening up an entirely new world, the metaphorical sparks fly from your skin, a passion unfelt for far too long. 

You pull back only just, still brushing against his lips with your eyes pressed shut, “should we go upstairs?” 

Steve thinks the answer is obvious, his grip on your waist gave that much away for sure. He nods anyway, for good measure, letting you take his hand to lead him up the cluttered stairway, almost sprinting as the urge to get you out of your clothes explodes. 

“Ignore the mess,” you warn but he’s not paying any attention to anything other than you, drinking in your hips and the way they sway. 

He knocks the hat from your head, hands finding solace on your back as he pulls you in again, this kiss more fiery than the last, grabby and hungry making you hum in shock. Eager to satisfy the ache in his cock, even if it were just by making out. 

Your fingers work at the buttons on his shirt, brushing against his chest as his tongue moves between your lips, a fervent battle with your own. There had been no this with Louise, that was certain, a vanilla love affair that often ended in disappointment for the both of them. 

The cloth leaves his shoulders, hitting the ground with a soft thump to welcome your hands around his neck, clammy as they grasp his skin. He’s a novice now, once filled with an overbearing confidence to now, a fumbling mess. 

His hands feel around for your bed, laying you back across the mattress tumbling on top clumsily. Unbuttoning your waistcoat with a trembling hand, you take the reins even from underneath, sliding your legs up against his waist, further closing the distance. 

Your lips unlock, allowing him time to take in a much needed breath. You’re braless underneath your costume, shimmying the fabric off and tossing it to the ground all the while actively ignoring Steve’s gawping. 

“It’s rude to stare,” you jest, though you don’t attempt to hide at all. 

Steve’s gaze flickers, once to your eyes and back down again, eyes wide and adoring, “I’m not sorry,” he quips back before resuming the kiss, focused on getting your pants down. 

Your panties already soaked, legs opening to welcome him inside perfectly, he sits up on his knees, mouth slack as he admires the view laid before him. There hadn’t been any thought in his mind that this was how you’d end up tonight, but he’s sure glad he’s here. 

His hands glide up the soft skin of your thighs, squeezing gently for good measure, fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties, taking his time to slide them down your legs. The tight feel of his pants suddenly becoming too much, his leaking tip pressed against the shoddy costume fabric. 

“I haven’t.. it’s been a while,” he warns, a subconscious effort to turn you off as if you weren’t glistening before his eyes, pupils blown and aching for him. 

“I don’t care,” you huff in response, tightening your calves around his waist. 

Steve swallows the lump in his throat, in awe of your vigour, struggling to get his own pants off with the newfound tent in his crotch. Clambering back over to hover above, his dick straining against his boxers. 

Your hands come to find his shoulders as his boxers come down, “you’re.. Jesus Christ,” you remark, looking down at the space between your bodies. 

It was no secret that his dick was on the bigger side, that was made clear very early on in his life.

“I’m not.. not quite,” laughing to himself, the pressure easing only the tiniest bit as he fists his cock, guiding his fat tip to your weeping hole, sliding between your slick folds before easing himself inside. 

Your breathing stutters in synchronicity, digging your fingernails into the sweaty skin of his neck. “Fucking.. shit,” Steve splutters, fisting the pillowcase with an almighty need to not cum right then and there. 

Quickly finding his rhythm, kept in time by your in heady moans and the slight rut of your hips against his. You were an entirely new experience, your pussy drinking him in immediately and with every stroke he loses brain cells. 

You whine, needily bucking your hips to meet his, sending shivers up his spine when your fingertips graze his scalp alongside the gentle tugging of his hair. 

He’s grateful you’re alone as the mattress creaks inconspicuously in time with his hips, one night stands had been his forte a few years ago and he’d been caught out by rusty bed springs more times than he’d like to admit. 

Your eyes struggle to stay open, jaw slack, allowing your sweet wails to escape. “Has anyone ever told you how pretty you are?” Steve gushes, a bumbling mess transfixed by your warmth. 

You breathe airly, cracking a smile at his blown out eyes and furrowed brow, “not while they were inside of me no,” sliding your calf up his side, allowing him deeper. 

“They should’ve,” he pants, unsure of where this was even coming from. He feels giddy, like this was always meant to happen. 

You brush back the loose strands of hair from in front of his eyes, clung to his sweaty forehead, “thank you, but I kinda need you to move,” his cock stilled while he babbles on. 

“Yeah.. yeah,” Steve nods, leaning down to lazily connect your lips, drawing a dulcet whimper from your throat when he sinks back into your cunt. 

Warmth arises from his stomach to his chest and almost back out of his mouth, his head turning to complete fuzz. You taste like sweet wine and peppermint, your tongue dancing between his lips to battle with his. If your plan was to make him fall in love, you might’ve just succeeded. 

“Shitshitshit,” you mumble, leaving the kiss to press your lips to the stubble on his jaw instead, vibrating the skin with every desperate curse and plea. 

His fingers grip the space around your head, moving over to gently stroke your cheek, slowly losing his stature as the knot tightens in his stomach. “I’m gonna.. shit, I’m gonna cum,” rushing the words out before they lose all meaning in his noisy brain. 

“Yeah?” lips twitching upward, “just.. just not inside,” making sure to get your very important point across before the line was blurred forever. 

Pulling out of your pussy in record time before he shudders, hot ropes of his seed paint your stomach, Steve’s brain collapses in on itself before he has time to move himself. Sputtering a half-assed apology before collapsing onto the mattress next to you, breathless as he reels. 

“Holy shit,” panting softly, reaching over for some discarded item of clothing to clean yourself up, letting him recover with his face pressed into your pillow, his deep, heaving breaths eventually slowing. 

“Sorry for uh.. that,” glancing downward, hoping you wouldn’t now make him walk home in his costume and acres of shame. 

Instead, you throw the blanket over him before snuggling in closer, a particular shine in your eye before delving into your barrage of thoughts about the night. 

-

The sun beats through your blinds, forcing him awake far too early. 

You don’t stir, still peacefully asleep on the pillow next to him. Steve couldn’t even remember falling asleep, one minute asking about your major to waking up with your legs intertwined. 

The sound of his phone vibrating against the bedside table shocks him fully awake. Robin probably thought he was dead. Five missed calls and the barrage of texts definitely solidified that. 

are you alive??? 

steve 

this is serious now can you reply to me before i call the cops

He reaches down, swooping the pink bejeweled hat off of the ground and lazily placing it on his own head. sticking his tongue out at his phone before snapping a quick picture, his thumb immediately sending the picture to his, no doubt, curious best friend. 

She replies almost immediately, making sure to heart react to the image before going on her tangent. 

i fucking knew it! 

i knew ot!!!!!!

how was it? 

do u like her?? 

His phone vibrates in his hand, afraid he’d wake you with the incessant sound. 

great

and 

yes 

Steve replies, leaving everything to her wild imagination. 

you bastard tell me more 

i knew you’d like her!

why don’t u ever trust me

He sighs, knowing that once again Robin was right.

shut up 

dinner later? 

She pings back instantaneously.

yes. 

He clicks his phone shut, placing it back on the nightstand, the bright pink hat still perched on his head. He wanted to wake you, hoping you’d still like him the same now that you were sober. 

Black streaks of your mascara are smeared across your under eye and cheeks, hell, Steve was definitely wearing it too. There’s glitter everywhere, scattered across your bedsheets and his tan skin and almost certainly his hair. His eyes slide around your cluttered room, the pictures and Taylor Swift posters that adorned the walls, piles of unfinished books on your desk. He’s particularly interested in the shelf of vinyl records, though he could fathom a guess as to what they probably were. 

You rouse from your slumber next to him, sighing softly as you awaken, “nice hat,” mumble from the pillow, squinting at the sight before you, he probably looked a mess. Sure as shit felt like one. 

“Oh shit,” Steve laughs, forgetting he even still had it on, “Robin was just making sure you weren’t a murderer,” tossing the hat back to the floor, his cheeks flushing a deep scarlet red. 

“Not a murderer,” you chuckle, “but I might murder you for an aspirin and some fries though.”

“I think I could make that happen without you having to kill me,” he smiles, volunteering to venture into the depths of your scary house for an aspirin. 

“Please do, and quickly,” grumbling from your perch on the pillow, suffering worse than he was. 

“You just wait here and I’ll be back in no time,” he’s just about to clamber from the bed when the door swings open, hurriedly grabbing the blanket to keep his dignity intact as some girl he quickly identifies as your roommate bursts in. 

“Oh woah,” she exclaims, pretending to cover her eyes while she peeks through the middle two, “so that’s where you went! We weren’t sure if you were dead or not,” not so unfamiliar with his snooping friends. 

You groan, shuffling around your cocoon to face her, “I feel like I’m dying,” your voice gruff in comparison to the angelic tones ringing in his ears last night. He still absolutely loved it either way. 

“That’s a shame,” the girl sarcastically pouts, “I was just about to ask if you and your friend would like to join us at Flannery’s tonight but if you’re dying…”

Your head perks up ever so slightly, “oh really? I think I could get myself together enough to come..” turning back to ask Steve, “what about you?”

He nods in a rather overzealous manner, “yeah, yeah I’ll be there.” 

“You should invite your friend Robin I think, I mean- it’d be cool if she was there too,” shrugging her obvious pining off before flouncing out of the room in a cloud of curls and sickly perfume. 

He looks over to you, your eyes already staring back, glinting with a withheld laugh, “you don’t have to if you don’t want to.. I’m sure you and Robin have something way better to do.”

“No!” far too enthusiastic a response for an invite to some college town bar, “I mean, I’m sure we could show our faces.. if we really had to,” Steve wasn’t blasé about anything ever, much less confirmation that you just might like him too. 

You beam, taking your bottom lip between your teeth, “okay.. good, because..  I’d really like you to be there.” 

[eds6ngel]

Hello lovely I was hoping you could do a Steve with a kid fic! Reader is Steve’s kid’s teacher and they have a parent/teacher meeting and Steve falls for her!

Love you and your writing 💋

✎ when i kissed the teacher | part one

firstly, thank you so much for the compliment darling!! secondly, you are one lucky person as i've decided to make this into a multi-part series! i've always been a massive fan of dad!___ x reader, so i've taken it upon myself to create a series out of it! i'm aiming for four or five parts, but we will see where it takes us <33

warnings: dad!steve. singledad!steve. 90s!au. fem!reader. mentions of bad mother. deep talks about life. swearing. slow burn. mutual pining. pet names. fluff. comfort. steve's daughter is the cutest. more warnings as the chapters commence! [4.9k].

“All right my loves!” you yell calmly to the children, them waving at their parents from the glass window, the group excited to head home after a tough day of school. “Come and sit on the rug for me, I have one more thing for you all before you get to go home!”

A bunch of chatter and pattering feet can be heard as the six-year-olds bounce over to the colourful, spotted rug, each plopping themselves down and crossing their legs as they look up at you with eager eyes.

You cross your arms and put your finger up to your lips, the children copying you and nudging their friends to look up at you and replicate your action. The final kid finally turned his eyes towards you and copied you, you shaking your head and smiling, “What took you so long Harry?”

He frowns slightly, “I’m sorry Miss, I wasn’t paying attention.”

If there’s one thing you could call a success in your teaching, it would be the ability for your kids to reflect on where they went wrong. It was one of the most important things they could learn as they grow.

“It’s okay honey, just remember to use those listening ears to hear your friends quieten down next time, okay?”

He nods as all of the kids sit with their hands tucked between their crossed legs, you now knowing that everyone was completely focused. “Firstly,” you smile softly, “You have all made amazing progress today, I’m very proud of each and every one of you.”

You can see each of them smile brightly, bouncing in their sitting position, especially the less-able kids, they deserved some extra love with all the hard work they put in to improve.

“Secondly,” you say, leaning over and grabbing a neat stack of papers, “Next week is your parent-teacher meetings! So, I’m each going to give you a letter and I want you to give it to your mommy or daddy, okay?”

The children nod, you smiling and standing up, giving each of them a letter. Once you put the spare sheets on the side, you say to them, “Okay, as always, stay seated and I’ll call you up if I see your mommies or daddies, okay?”

You walk over to the window, peering out to see two different parents stood next to each other: Mr. Byers and Mr. Harrington. Mr. Harrington, who from day one insisted you call by his first name Steve, waved at you, you giving a small smile back as you turn towards both dad’s daughters, “Okay, Ashley! Alena! Your daddies are here!”

The two girls stand up, toddling over to their tables to grab their backpacks, you giggling to yourself as you see how huge they look on their small figures. Ashley is the first to stand in front of you, smiling as you open the door, “Go and see daddy. See you tomorrow!” you say, the girl rushing over as Mr. Byers picks his daughter up, grabbing the sheet she was holding in her hand and heading out of the gate.

As you turn your back, Alena is standing there, grinning at her dad through the open door. Alena was a spunky character. She was super friendly, always willing to help out the other kids and almost always had her hair styled in two un-even pigtails. But, she wasn’t fussed, her hair usually a mess by the end of the day after tumbling around on the grass in the playground. The amount of times you had to bring in the poor girl when she had scraped her knees or elbows was insane, but she always put a brave face on. She was a very cute kid and you were lucky you got to teach her.

“Hello!” you say, pretending to jump at her sudden presence, making the young girl giggle, “Oh, come here my love, your backpack strap is twisted.” You lean down and un-twist the purple backpack strap, swiping the few bread crumbs off of it as you signal to her dad. “There’s your dad, honey. Have a great rest of your day!”

She bounces over to her dad, smiling as she passes him the letter, him taking a quick glance over it as he realises what it was.

He had to spend time talking with you. Just you, him and Alena. Alone.

It was no doubt that Steve knew of his little crush on you. He tried his best to push it to the back of his mind, but with seeing your gorgeous face five times a week, how could he ever forget about your beauty?

Now, he had to practically spend time alone with you. Sure, it was still under professional circumstances, but how was he supposed to concentrate? It was a meeting to talk about his daughter’s school progress, yet his mind treated it like a first date.

Steve looks up from the sheet to see your back turned attending to the other students, Alena tugging at his leg, “Daddy, come on! I wanna go home!”

“Yeah, okay, okay,” he replies, waiting for the moment for you to turn to face the window again, which you do. He can’t stop staring at you as you give him a small wave, Alena waving back at you as you giggle, the girl not knowing that you were in fact waving at her dad, who weirdly couldn’t stop looking at you. Strange.

You divert your eyes to attend to the next kid, Steve snapping out of his trance as Alena continues tugging at his jeans. “Okay pumpkin, I’m going, I’m going.”

He grabs his daughter’s hand as he heads out to the gate, him trying to compose himself at the inevitability of you two talking in private. Hopefully his daughter being there would be enough of a distraction.

Until she wasn’t…

You were setting up your classroom for the day. It was the start of a brand new week, so you knew it was going to be a little bit more tough on your end to get the kids to be quiet. They had curious minds, so they would definitely want to go into excruciating detail about their weekends to their friends.

A knock on the door can be heard as you lay out a worksheet full of math problems on the children’s desks. You turn around, smiling as you see Alena standing there with her dad, sheet of paper held between her small hands. “Good morning Mr. Harrington, and good morning to you too Alena!” you brightly say, her dad replying, “Please, just call me Steve.”

“Well,” you chuckle, “Good morning Steve and Alena. How was your guys’ weekend?” you ask, turning your back as you put out the final worksheets.

“Daddy and I went to the aquarium!” she beams.

“Ooh, that sounds like fun!” you smile widely, “Did you see lots of fish and sea creatures?”

“Uh huh!” she chirps, “I saw clownfish and seahorses and turtles and octopuses!”

“That sounds like you had a great time! But, remember, what do some plural nouns end in?” you ask her, trying to correct her on her simple mistake. Even you didn’t have the answer to why some end in ‘I’ instead of ‘Us,’ it was just another weird variation of the English language.

“Um…” she thinks, “They end in ‘I?’”

“Good job! So, it wouldn’t be octopuses, it would be…”

“Octopi!” she smiles brightly.

You put your last worksheet down as you walk over and ruffle her hair, “Well done!” You look down to the sheet of paper in her hand, “And what is this?” you ask, taking it from her delicate hands.

“Parent-teacher meeting letter,” Steve tells you, “Is it alright if I bring her along? I chose some of the earliest slots as it’s just easier for me to come straight from work to here instead of hiring a babysitter. But, if you just want parents alone, I’ll get a friend to pick her up.”

“No, it’s totally fine Mr. Har— Excuse me, Steve,” you reply, “I��m sure a lot of parents are in the same position as you. You can totally bring her along! It’s also an opportunity for her to hear how she can improve first hand, which is great. So…” you mumble, walking over to your computer and opening up Excel, “Alena… 3:45PM. Is it just you coming or is your wife coming also?”

He freezes up at the mention of his ex. His ex-girlfriend’s name wasn’t on the school system at all as he frankly has nothing to do with her. But, you’re Alena’s teacher, how were you supposed to know his life history? Steve stutters as he thinks of a reply, “I, um… I don’t have a wife…” Shit. Not the answer.

“Oh my Gosh,” you frantically say, looking up at him where he had now entered the classroom and was stood in front of your desk, “I am so sorry. I’ve been so busy that I haven’t had the chance to go through the student’s personal files yet. I apologise for assuming, I really am.”

God, you were too kind. It just made you all the more attractive.

“It’s okay,” Steve sighs, “It’s not even on the record. Well, her mother isn’t mentioned on there for… reasons, so it’s fine really.”

You sympathetically smile, “I may teach children Steve, but I know when an adult is hiding a pain too. Whatever happened, I truly am sorry, and you shouldn’t have to pretend that everything is okay to make others feel comfortable.”

He knew you were right. But, you were the first person to ever say it out loud. To be completely honest with him. No beating around the bush and just accepting his passiveness, you understood how he felt about Alena’s mother, even without the backstory. You’re exactly the kind of person he needs in his life.

You turn your head, sighing with a smile, your head leaning against your intertwined hands. Alena was sat at her desk, grabbing a piece of paper and a couple of crayons from the centre and doodling away. It was a rule in your classroom that no kid was to start their early morning worksheet before the bell rang. That way, no kid felt left behind.

“She’s such a good kid,” you smile, “She’s kind and brave and always completes her work. I’ll obviously tell you more of that on Wednesday, but you’ve done an amazing job raising her, especially as a single dad. I hope you know that.”

Steve looks into your gorgeous eyes, fumbling over his words, stunned at the comments that easily flow out of your mouth. You weren’t afraid to be kind, and that was a beautiful quality. “I try my best,” he awkwardly says, not used to the compliments, “I have a hard time accepting that, but, thank you anyway.”

“Of course,” you softly reply, “You deserve to hear it.”

The two of you stay in silence, the quiet sound of Alena’s crayons scraping across her paper being the only noise in the brightly decorated classroom. Steve rubs the back of his neck and coughs, “Well, I should get going. Head to work and all…” he says, pointing his thumb behind him towards the door.

“Uh, yeah…” you awkwardly reply, “Don’t want you to be late,” you quietly laugh.

“I’ll see you later,” he finalises, referring to when he would pick up his daughter at the end of the day. You nod, Steve heading over to Alena and asking for a kiss which she gives him, before he turns around and heads towards the door, exiting the classroom.

You sit there in contemplation, how did you compliment him so easily? You didn’t do that to other parents, and you knew that a few of them were single moms. Why just him? Why did you feel different towards him?

Steve was feeling a similar way as he pushed the door open out to the main entrance. He swore he wasn’t going crazy, he felt something between the two of you. It couldn’t have just been his crush on his daughter’s school teacher convincing him that. He’s dated women in the past and even they haven’t complimented him to that extent. Even the women he tried to date as Alena was growing up hadn’t dared say anything complimentary about his parenting skills. You were different. You showed him the kind of praise he always wanted.

He was falling in love with his daughter’s teacher.

Your day had gone pretty well. As predicted, the students were extra chatty because of their busy weekends, but you didn’t mind. All of them getting along with minimum bullying in your class is what made you most proud. If they were kind to each other, a little extra talking was good for the mind. They were developing, which means their brains were super busy. It was a sign of healthiness.

All of the parents had shown up on time to collect their kids, which was the biggest accomplishment for you. Usually, at least one parent was running late, so you had to take on the task of guiding them to the front desk to wait for their mom or dad. But, today you were free, meaning you got to go home a little earlier, or so you thought.

As you led the last kid out to their parent, you shut the door, beginning to tidy up the classroom before you drive home. However, a faint knock can be heard against the glass, you turning to see Steve and Alena patiently waiting outside, his larger hand holding her smaller one.

You open the door, you smiling and saying, “Hi guys!” Steve speaking up, “Hi, um… I know you’ve probably filled up a lot of your slots by now, but is it okay if I could change the time for our parent-teacher meeting? Work asked me to stay an extra two hours.”

“Of course!” you reply, walking over to your desk, “I’ve shut down the computer for now, but I’ll make a note in my planner, okay? I keep everything stored twice in case this thing decides to play up.”

“Sounds great.”

You flip through the pages, finding Wednesday’s date and opening the cap to your pen, “Okay. How late are we talking?”

“You have anything after 6PM?” Steve asks, “I can do slightly earlier if it’s a problem for you, but I don’t want to accidentally run late and mess everything up.”

“Not to worry,” you reply, “I’m pretty sure I have after six,” you look down through the list, finding some empty slots after 6PM, “Yes, I do. I have 6:15 and 6:25. Any preference?”

“6:15 would be great, thank you,” he says with a sigh, thankful that his change of work schedule hasn’t messed up yours. You cross out Steve’s 3:45 appointment and re-write him in for 6:15, making sure to update that in the school system tomorrow.

“Also,” he starts, “Is it alright if I get my friend Robin to pick up Alena on Wednesday?”

“Um…” you think, “If you could give me a description of them, that would be helpful. You know, keeping the kids safe and all. Don’t want to give your daughter to any stranger who claims they are your friend, you know?”

“No, I totally get it,” he replies, “She has a dirty blonde coloured hair that, I guess is shoulder length? She has a fringe too, slight wave to her hair. A little shorter than me, so I guess like 5’9-ish. Blue eyes, freckles on her face, she had black painted nails the last time I saw her which was like three days ago. Is that good enough?”

“Yes, let me just write it down so I don’t forget. I’ll confirm with Alena on the day anyway, she’ll probably be excited to see her,” you say, making a note underneath your column of parent-teacher meeting times.

“Oh yeah,” Steve chuckles, “She calls her Auntie Robin, so if she yells that, you have the right person.”

“Great,” you smile, mumbling out, “Okay… Alena picked up by ‘Auntie’ Robin — short, dark blonde hair with fringe, blue eyes, freckles, black nails. Okay, all written down.”

“Thank you,” Steve breathes out, “I’m still on for dropping her off tomorrow and Wednesday, it’s just picking her up Wednesday afternoon that’s the change. Hope it’s not too much of a fuss.”

You wave your hand, “You’re fine, trust me. It’s only one day, you pick her up every single other day on time. Plus, you told me in advance, which many parents have failed to do in the past,” you softly laugh, reminding yourself of the endless days of random people claiming they’ve come to pick up a certain child, you having to go through the endless hassle of contacting the parent to confirm the stranger is who they claim they are.

“Yeah, well, I thought it was best you should know. Hawkins is a scary place, I’m sure you’re well aware,” he awkwardly smiles, trying not to focus of the events that happened just under ten years ago.

“Yeah, not got the best reputation around here,” you laugh, brushing your hair behind your ear. “Well, I guess I will see you in the morning.”

Steve smiles, lifting Alena up onto his hip, “You will. And again, thank you for letting me change the time.”

“No problem at all,” you smile, “Bye Steve. Bye Alena!” you shout, her giving you a big smile and a wave from over Steve’s shoulder. God, she was a cute kid. And her father… Well, he wasn’t bad-looking either.

The parent-teacher meetings had been going well so far. You had conversations with parents that were brave, their kids little mini-me’s of them, to kids you just wanted to save from the inevitable attitude they would someday inherit from their parents. As a teacher, it sometimes felt that you were becoming the mother that the children wish they had.

No parent had actually booked after 6:15, so Steve was your final parent to speak with, and you couldn’t wait to gush about how beautiful of a girl Alena was.

As you bid farewell to Mr. and Mrs. Cromwell, you sigh in your seat, leaning far back and placing your hands on your face. A voice interrupts you, “Not the nicest, huh?”

You move your hands away, leaning forward once again and softly laughing, “Yeah, bit of a silver spoon shoved up there.”

Steve enters the classroom and takes a seat in front of your desk, “I hate parents like that. I heard them from outside saying that you were lying about Rhys. Like, come on man, just accept that your child has flaws. You didn’t even say anything bad!” he exclaims, arms flailing up in the air.

“Right?” you smile widely, “All I said is he needs to improve on his spelling and suddenly I’m the worst person in the world. I never even said it was a bad thing, they came to that conclusion. I don’t expect every child to be perfect at everything, I wouldn’t even say that about Alena, it’s normal for children to have a few tough spots in their education.”

Steve softly smiles, “Well, you’re lucky I won’t complain even if Alena was bad at everything.”

You laugh, “I certainly won’t be doing that. Speaking of, shall we start?”

“Of course.”

“Okay,” you say, flipping through your grade sheets and coming across Alena’s name, “Firstly, grades. I don’t really do a typical grade system, your A-F kind of thing, I actually do it in stars. A bit weird, I know, but it actually helps the kids understand their current learning levels, so I just adopt it as well,” you smile.

Steve grinned at your explanation, actually preferring your way of grading. So what if it was weird? It was different, and he liked that.

“Her spelling is spectacular, 10/10 on her spelling bee last week, 9/10 the week before. Pretty consistent in the top levels there. That would land her in adult talk around an A, so that’s five stars in child’s talk,” you say, turning the page over to the reading section, “Are you aware of our reading levels?”

He furrows his eyebrows, “I can’t remember what the highest level is again.”

“Not to worry,” you reply, looking him in the eye, “So we do levels 1-6. One obviously being the lowest, six being the highest. Six is very rare in this class, just for warning. I think I only have two students on level six, so don’t panic that Alena’s not there yet. She’s on level four, which is just above average, a B grade if you will. Plenty of room for improvement, so I’m not overwhelmingly worried.”

Steve laughs, “Definitely a change from me. I can’t spell for shit,” he freezes, “Sorry, I shouldn’t curse, should I?”

You chuckle, “We’re technically out of school hours, curse all you want honey.”

Honey. That was new.

“Now,” you say, flipping over to the next page, “She is struggling a little with math. I’ve noticed that she gets her numbers confused around a little. When counting on her fingers, sometimes she skips a number or goes ‘3, 2, 3.’ And that has sadly affected her in other subjects. We sometimes do timelines in history, and her switching up of numbers means she’ll put a date from the 1500’s in front of the 1600’s. So, she’s currently on two stars, which is sadly a D in normal grades. But, it is only simple mistakes. If she doesn’t get those numbers mixed up, she’ll naturally bump herself up to a B, possibly even an A. I was wondering if you could help me out with this next part.”

“Of course,” Steve replies, “Anything to help my pumpkin.”

You smiled to yourself. What a cute nickname.

You pass him over a couple sheets of paper, “Since I have fifteen kids to teach, sometimes it’s a little hard to notice the mistakes Alena is making before I mark her work, and the markings do equate to the grades. So, I have some math problems here, and I was wondering if you could maybe help her at home? Try and get her out of the habit of skipping numbers or mixing them up. That way, if you know they’re right, you can bring them in, I’ll mark them, and they’ll bump up her grade. Also, the affect of you getting her out of the habit will probably help her in class too.”

He takes the sheets off of you, “Totally, I’m on it. She’s still doing better than I ever did at school, so that’s always a bonus,” he slightly chuckles.

You smile, shaking your head, “To be honest, as humans, we’re not supposed to be good at everything. I shouldn’t really tell you my thoughts on this, but the education system is designed for competition. The idea is that kids are supposed to be good at everything, which is utter bullshit to me. Alena is probably just not gifted at math, and that’s okay.” You sigh, “But, because of the system design, if she wants to graduate first grade, she’ll need to get at least a C in math.”

Steve smirks, “Ain’t that the truth. But, I understand. Math homework will be on the agenda for this weekend,” he smiles.

You close your book, “That’s the main grades done. Writing is also very on point, she can trace the letters almost perfectly. It’s just removing that guide now and seeing how she does without it,” you smile.

“Great,” Steve agrees.

“Now, I’ve done this with every parent tonight, so I’m just going to talk about how Alena is as a growing human, because no amount of grades will ever outweigh personality, and it definitely won’t for Alena. She’s is such a sweet girl. She’s always willing to help others, easily makes friends due to her kind persona and has really respectable manners,” you explain, “I mean, you saw what she was like on Monday morning. Instantly came in, followed my rules about not starting any tasks until the bell rings, and just sat there drawing. She’s amazing at being honest and respectful, but also has just enough spunkiness to set her apart in a crowd. What I’m saying is, you’ve done an amazing job raising her Steve, and I’m sure she gets her beautiful personality from you.”

Steve can’t help but let a small blush rise to his cheeks at your compliments. Again, it was just something about you. You take notice, but don’t point it out, smiling widely at his reaction.

Steve sighs happily, “Well, I’m glad she’s like that. I wasn’t the most… nicest person at school. I let the popularity get to my head, all that shit. Treated everyone lower than me like they were a second-class citizen. Even did that to Jonathan, Mr. Byers, for a while. His wife is actually my ex,” he chuckles, “She pretty much got me out of that shitty popularity ordeal. So, I think I just want my daughter to be the opposite of me. Be the me I could’ve been when I was younger, you know?”

You nod, “I get that. I’ve learnt that parenting can either be one of two things: you don’t want your kids to end up like you, or you want them to be exactly like you. Based on how you described yourself, I’m glad you chose the first option. Although,” you shrug your shoulders, “I would give yourself some credit. It seems like you’ve done the inner healing and reflection to give your daughter a chance to become a kind human being. A shit person can’t create a nice one.”

“Yeah,” he thinks, “Maybe you’re right. I do still say mean stuff every now and again. Judge people before knowing them, all that kind of shit. I’m not proud of it, but it’s just engrained into me by now.”

You look into his eyes, “I think that’s more a generational thing. I mean, I try my best to see why people act the way they do, but even I judge people. What I said for Alena also applies for you too, Steve. Humans aren’t meant to be this definition of perfect. We’re always gonna have a flaw. You can try and work on it as much as you want, but there’s only so far you can go. Sometimes, it’s just easier to accept that’s who you are and it’s actually doing you more harm than good the more you critique yourself for it.”

You were so goddamn smart. You couldn’t have been more than twenty five years old, and yet, you had a better understanding of life than he ever did. Maybe it was seeing life through a kid’s lens, but he feels that can’t be all to the intellect. Life experiences make you understand the world. It sure helped him understand it. He was intrigued. He wanted to understand your mind, get to know you better than just his daughter’s teacher. You were such a beautiful soul and had such a fascinating mind.

Steve has no words as he stares at you in awe, unaware that he hadn’t even said anything as you clear your throat, “Um… anyway…” you begin, grounding Steve back to reality, “Do you have any questions for me?”

His mind did go to asking you out on a date. But, you were his daughter’s teacher, was that even allowed? Was that breaching any rules or codes?

And little did he know you were asking yourself the same questions. Your brain was itching to research into the questions. Why did he have to be one of your student’s dads?

“Uh, no, no I don’t,” he stutters out, taking this as a queue for him to leave as he raises from his chair. You hold out your hand, him taking it as you shake it, each basking in the warmness of the other’s palm.

“Well, thank you Steve for being here. I usually do another one of these around March time, so I hope to see you here for one of these again then!” you smile.

“Of course,” he replies, “But, really I should be thanking you. Supporting me and all when I basically rambled about my life.”

“Just because it’s a parent-teacher meeting doesn’t mean I have to lose all my kindness to be professional,” you sympathetically say.

Steve hums in agreement, you weren’t completely wrong. He’d take you any day to compliment and uplift him. If only he could somehow have that…

“Yeah… Well, see you tomorrow morning,” he smiles, turning his back and heading out the classroom door.

You stand up and start to pack away your folders and planners into your bag, thinking about Steve. You could tell that he wanted to change, wanted to shape his daughter into the man he never was. Give her the opportunity he only wished he had. But, there was something about him. Sure, he had a gorgeous mop of hair and the prettiest hazel eyes, but there was something inside too. A sense of kindness, warmth, comfort. Something you’d never felt so intensely with a man before.

Shit. You were falling for your student’s father.

thank you for reading!! i can't wait to write for the rest of it! i'll try and get a chapter out every few days amongst other smaller fics, so please be patient <;33

→ next chapter.

[mqsi]

hello! id like to request a angsty pedri fic! you're a huge pedri fan and you finally get a chance to meet him in person, but he just turns out to be a massive asshole. that wouldn't be a problem if you just didn't run into him everywhere you go.

i really like the last pedri fanfic you wrote (the one where he makes an insult and goes too far) so can this fanfic also have something like pedri calling the reader an annoying pest (something like that) because they keep running into each other when they both least expect it. your writing is absolutely beautiful btw, keep up the amazing work!

Hii,thank you sm, I’m glad you liked it! 🥹💞

I trully hope Pedri would never do this cause omg this was hard on me to write

——————————————————————————

You were a big Barcelona fan, especially of a certain midfielder. You attended quite a few games at Camp Nou but was never in a situation to actually meet Pedri. But today was your lucky day when a well know green car passed you and soon made a stop. Other people recognized it as well and started making a crowd around it but you were quick enough to come in time.

Pedri lowered his windows, obviously not in the greatest mood. You handed him the phone to take a picture and just as you were about to slip from the crowd, someone pushed you and you dropped the phone into his car.

“What the hell?” He said, irritated.

“I’m so sorry, someone pushed me” you said, blush covering your cheeks. He basically threw the phone back at you, glaring at your direction. You ran off as soon as you grasped the phone. You were a bit disappointed about the encounter, you expected to be met with a cheerful Pedri, like the media shows him to be. You told yourself that he was just not in the mood and that you should be lucky to even meet him.

Little did you know that your favourite footballer will make your love for him bitter. Just two days later, as you were walking with your little cousin, you ran into Pedri’s car again. Your cousin screamed from excitment, pulling you towards the car so he can take a picture. As you slipped trough people, you saw Pedri was in a much better mood today, all smiles. But as you came to the window, his demeanor suddenly changed. He scrunched his eyebrows and you hesitated for a moment,before asking him to take picture with your cousin. He did but a frown never left his face. After that, you really started to think that it has something to do with you.

Things just started to get weirder. As you were sitting in the passanger seat, driving with your mom, you stopped at the red light. You looked to your right, only to be met with Pedri’s eyes. He looked at you, almost in schock that it was you again. You quickly turned your head, an uneasy feeling in your stomach. The next time it happened, you just wanted to cross the street but the car that stopped to let you pass was none other than Pedri’s.

Pedri and Gavi were sitting in a car, when Pedri practically jumped.

“Do you see that girl in a white hoodie that’s just now crossing?” He said, turning to look at Gavi. He lifted his eyes from the phone to look at you. You made eye contact with both of them. Gavi seemed completely uninterested while Pedri had a signature annoyed expression whenever you ran into each other.

“What about her?” Gavi asked.

“I can’t get away from her! I don’t know why we run into each other every fucking day”

Gavi just shrugged, not quite understanding why Pedri was fussing over this.

You were already completely devastated by the fact that you were annoying to Pedri, for no reason as well. But today was the last straw, it crashed you down all the way. You were in a rush, on your way to meet your friends in a diner by the beach when you bumped into someone on the crowdy Barcelona sidewalk.

“Woah, my bad-“ you said but words died out and mouth went dry when you saw it was in fact, Pedri again.

He completely stopped in his tracks, looking at you with so much irritation in his eyes.

“Have you dropped a tracker with your phone in my car or what?”

“I’m sorry, it’s really not intentional, I can’t control when we run into each other” you replied, just wanting the ground to swallow you whole. Pedri let out a sarcastic laugh, looking to the side for a moment. When his eyes met yours again, your stomack twisted.

“Then try to avoid me. It’s fucking annoying. You’re fucking annoying” he said and walked off. You stood there for a moment, a tear rolling down your cheek. The words carved themselves into your brain.

——————————————————————————

[avida-heidia-5]

I was tagged by @twinkodium. This was a lot of fun! Thanks for the tag! 😊

Star Sign:

Aries. 🐏 (I don’t believe in zodiac signs and their supposed meanings. I just know I’m an Aries as I was born on 22nd March. 🤷🏻‍♀️)

Favourite Holiday:

Easter! 🐰🥚🌸 Because chocolate. I’m ADDICTED to the stuff! 🍫 Also, Spring is one of my favourite seasons. I just love seeing nature come back to life and seeing more wildlife more often after a long winter period. It brings me so much joy every single time. 😌

Last Meal:

I’ve just eaten homemade toad-in-the-hole for linner (dinner at lunchtime). It was deeeeelicious! 🤤😋

Current Favourite Musician:

Depeche Mode. I fell in love with them ever since they released their latest album Memento Mori (2023). I pretty much binged the whole of their discography on Spotify last year out of sheer curiosity and I’ve now become strangely obsessed with them as a result. I’ve recently learned that fans of DM are called “Devotees”, soooo yeah. I’m a Devotee now! Whoopsie! 🌹🎹

Last Music Listened To:

Meet Me In The Woods by Lord Huron. I like me a good folk rock song to keep me going. This song was just so pleasant to listen to. Plus, it’s very catchy. I couldn’t get it out of my head after listening to it.

Last Movie Watched:

I watched The Ballad of Buster Scruggs (2018) with my parents on Netflix a couple of weeks ago. For those who don’t know, it’s an anthology film of sorts containing many different stories centred around the Wild West. My dad recommended it to me as he likes watching films made by the Coen Brothers. I don’t have a lot to say about it other than I really enjoyed it. I’m a film buff and I usually have a lot to say about the films I’ve just seen, so having that happen to me was really odd. 🤔

Last TV Show Watched:

I don’t watch a lot of TV and I don’t keep up to date with any shows, so I don’t know if what I’ve put down counts.

I recently finished watching the Fernando (2020–) docuseries on Amazon Prime and I loved it. 🤩 It’s mainly about Fernando Alonso and the many adventures he got up to during his 2-year retirement from F1. It’s really interesting!

Last Book/Fic Finished:

The last book I read was The Bourne Identity by Robert Ludlum and the last fic I read was a Chalex fic called I Can Feel The Sun On You by mintchocolatechip97.

Last Book/Fic Abandoned:

The book I abandoned quite swiftly was a Dave Grohl autobiography my uncle and auntie got me for Christmas. I was never a Foo Fighters listener and I’m not a Foo Fighters fan. I still have no idea why they thought I’d like it. Sorry to the people who like them, they’re just not for me. 🙁

Currently Reading:

A Pocketful Of Happiness by Richard E. Grant. It’s such a sweet, tender, and heartbreaking autobiography that highlights how he got into acting and how he met and fell in love with his acting coach Joan Washington. ❤️

Last Thing Researched for Writing/Art/Hyperfixation:

“sebastian vettel mark webber 2010 monaco”. Just seeing pictures of these two smiling and hugging each other makes me smile. 🥰 I was also psyching myself up for this week’s F1 Watch Party on Discord, which, funnily enough, will be streaming the 2010 Monaco Grand Prix this Sunday. I can’t wait!!!! 🏎️💨🏁

Favourite Fandom Online Memory:

I love making friends through their interests in the fandom. The F1 community is massive, so it was easy for me to make friends online and in person as a result. I can feel comfortable being weird around them and in turn they can feel comfortable being weird around me. 🥰🥰🥰

Favourite Old Fandom You Wish Would Drag You Back In/Have A Resurgence:

I used to love the Merlin fandom when it was popular. I still do, but not as strongly as I used to.

Favourite Thing You Enjoy That Never Had an Active or Big “Fandom” But You Wish It Did:

Hmmm, this is a tough question. I’m not fussed with how popular my fandom choices are. If I had to choose one though, I’d say The Beatles. I think a lot of RPFs about certain bands and singers don’t get as much attention as, say, Formula 1 or Super Mario or Supernatural do.

Tempting Project You’re Trying To Rein In/Don’t Have Time For:

I really want to post some more fanfics on AO3, make some more banners on InShot, and do some video editing and gif making on CapCut, but I’m incredibly slow at doing all of them because college work keeps getting in the way of my plans. 😵‍💫 I hardly have enough free time to do any of them. Don’t worry though, I haven’t abandoned them altogether. I will get them done eventually! 🤞🏻

I tag the following peeps: @kaossbells, @hurricane-heatt, @racingliners, @formulaes5, and @wanderingblindly. Feel free to participate if you’d like to. No pressure obviously. 😊

[queerxreader]

Loki Goes to The Lobby

Loki x Movie Theatre Employee M!Reader

Summary: AU where the MCU has its own release of “Avengers” in 2022. Y/N meets Loki during opening night.

Author’s Note: Loki is written as genderfluid and referred to as he/they. This is the first chapter to a possible series and I plan to further explore Loki’s flexible pronouns.

Chapter 1: Opening Night

It was chaotic. People loved superhero movies, and everytime one was released the first few days the theatres were packed like sardines, lines out the door. Today was one of those days. The new “Avengers” movie was premiering at your small town theatre, and it had brought out almost everyone in the town. The movie was based on the true events of the 2012 Battle of New York, in honor of the 10th year anniversary of said battle. If you could call it honor. You kind of hated the fact that this company was glorifying the real trauma of citizens and the Avengers themselves. You’d think the company would have consulted the Avengers and let themselves tell their stories.

It was whatever though, people loved the Avengers and they’d enjoy whatever shlock was thrown on the big screen. It was already really loud but this one moment the doors opened and a cacophony of excitement spread amongst the customers in line. In between orders you tried to crane your head to see what all the fuss was about, but to no avail the crowd was too big of a swarm. The loudness eventually died down as customers made their way to their auditoriums. Finally you saw what was causing the ruckus. The actual Avengers in your small town theatre. Just your luck they were in your line. Thor, the massive God of Thunder, himself strutted up to your register. His deep voice practically boomed like the thunder he conjured.

“Alright, I’ll have 3 of your largest popcorns extra butter all throughout, 4 large sodas, 2 sprites and 2 lemonades, a cherry freeze thingy, and uh.. that’s it for me,” he turns slightly to his fellow warriors, “and what do you all want?” He chuckles heartily as they laugh with him, you notice his infamous brother is along with them, Loki.

Loki looked clearly annoyed by the cheerful bunch of friends, despite looking annoyed you note he also looks quite handsome in casual clothes, or well what you assume is casual for him. He wore a black leather jacket, black long sleeve v-neck and tight black leather pants, to top it all off he had some glimmers of gold jewelry and a thin forest green scarf hanging on his neck. As much as people hated him, they had to admit the androgynous man had some fashion sense.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what brings you all here to our lil’ theatre?”

Steve chimes in, “Well Bruce and I aren’t big fans of crowds, so we figured we’d make a bit of a drive to somewhere quaint but, I guess this movie is popular everywhere.”

You shrug, while continuing to prepare their order, “yeah I guess so, people just seem to love heroes, and all y’all.” You notice Loki’s uncomfortableness with the statement. You lean a bit on the counter while handing the heroes their drinks, “which of the order is yours, Loki?”

He looked at you confused, you must’ve been the only person to talk to him that night besides the Avengers. He clears his throat, “I don’t want anything,”

“Ah, come on, it’s a long movie.”

“I don’t even want to see this movie.. Do you have water?”

“Yeah!”

“I’ll have a water, then”

“Okay, I’ll add it on the order,”

Thor snorts, elbowing his brother, “oh come on live a little, do you have mead?”

“No, we’re not that type of theatre” you laugh while grabbing the water for Loki out of its fridge.

When you return to your register you hand the water to Loki, your fingers brush against his as he takes the bottled water into his hand. You feel your heart jitter from the slight touch. You hope and pray they don’t see your nervousness.

It felt like it was longer than a minute but the moment went away as quick as it came, “thank you, dear,” he calmly said smiling.

You fumble to finish the long order, your co-workers grinning and chatting up respective avenger members. You notice, Tony handing big bills to your fellow employees, you hope once he pays he’ll give you a tip too, this job only pays so much after all. You attempt to chat up Loki but Captain Steve Rogers interrupts, “I see theatres still sell hot dogs!”

You look over at it, “yeah, you want one?”

“No, not for a movie.” Steve waves off the offer.

You and one of your co-workers laugh, “yeah you get it.. we- we have this joke that your life has to have gone pretty downhill to buy a hotdog at the movie theatre.”

Just then you see an awkward man with a five o clock shadow and purple button up sprinting to the counter, “oh good! You’re not finished ordering!” He got a little closer to the counter, you figured out who it was, Bruce Banner. You assumed he had hid out in the bathroom to avoid an anxiety attack. You’ve been there that’s for sure, so you understood. After steadying his breathing he points to the menu. “Can I have a hot dog and a uhm..water?” You notice his face and hair is kind of damp from what you assume was where he splashed his face with water to cool him down, you didn’t comment on it though.

You smile awkwardly exchanging a look with Steve who attempts to casually go stand away from Bruce so as not to laugh. You see Loki looking down at the floor trying not to laugh, another jitter to your heart. You look away from the raven haired God to remain composure.

“Yes of course, dude!” You walk over swiftly to catch his hot dog off the warm roller. Loki notices you fidgeting with the plastic gloves and you swear you see his tongue graze against the inside part of his lip as he softly laughs at your small frustration.

“Struggling?” He asks through a laugh.

“Yes! I hate these stupid gloves. They’re so awkward and I can’t grab anything!”

You see him wiggle his fingers a bit and the gloves suddenly aren’t complicated and fit nicely.

You look at the gloves and then to him, your brow arching, “thanks?” You continue preparing Bruce’s hot dog.

“Don’t mention it, hey, is that ice cream?”

“Yeah, you want some?”

“Maybe later,”

You hand the hot dog to Bruce, and continue ringing up orders. “A-Anything else for you guys?”

Natasha looks, “no I think we’re all good! Thank you all so much!”

“Aw no, thank you guys! Okay so, who’s paying?”

“That.” Tony walks up sliding a solid metal black card on the counter. “Would be me.”

You swipe the card, and begin to hand Tony the receipt and Natasha the tickets. “Can you sign here”

“Of course you want a autograph,”

“Uh no, I just need it cause the total was more than 100 dollars.”

“Right right right.”

Tony slides the tiny signed receipt to you with some large bills underneath. “That’s for you,”

“Wow, thank y’all so much, I hope you have a good night!”

They all thanked you one last time, and Bruce especially calmly speaks to you “Yet again, thanks for treating us like people and not.. some superstars.”

“It’s no biggie!” You lean a little on the counter to whisper to the awkward man, “by the way over by the arcade is a single bathroom so if you need to get away from people for a moment.. it’s right over there.”

He smiles breathlessly, “thanks!”

You watched as Loki left, and good god those pants accentuated everything, you called out to the group of heroes, “y’all enjoy your movie!“

You hear Loki instinctively respond “you too!” followed by Thor laughing and Loki calling back out “I mean!— ugh- Good night, Y/N!”

You laugh back at him, “good night, Loki!”

You smiled standing behind the counter at the finally empty lobby, you now could rest. Well, rest as much as you could with a smile beaming from such an amazing interaction with those Avengers. You felt your heart racing from the few words you shared with Loki. At first you were really intimidated by him but after he had the awkward ‘you too’ moment, you couldn’t help but feel maybe you intimidated him. You couldn’t stop smiling as you cleaned behind concessions.

One of your coworkers snickers at you, “you and Loki huh—“

“Oh what— oh yeah he, he was nice.”

“Next time he comes out you gotta ask him out.”

“What?! No way a guy like them would ever consider me worth their time.”

“Dude. He was so into you! You have to get their number.”

“I doubt he even has a phone but good idea!”

—

As the Avengers discussed how nice the staff was, Loki was silent. Loki walked past the theatre numbers, glancing at the movie posters. Natasha, while opening the door to their theatre said “that guy that rang us up was really sweet” Thor boisterously laughed at her statement, wrapping his arm around his brother’s shoulder shaking him in an accidental forceful way, “And Loki was quite sweet on him!”

Loki scoffed, loudly whispering while pushing Thor’s arm off of him “can you not announce it to the whole theatre!”

Clint interrupted, “it was pretty cool he talked to you, most people don’t.”

In a sarcastic tone, Bruce adds, “well they’re all probably still scared about the thing in New York”

Loki rolled his eyes and glared at Bruce, returning the sarcasm “you really think so, Bruce?”

They make it to their seats, and the movie begins. Halfway through the movie however, Loki gets tired of being reminded of one of his biggest regrets and decides to get some fresh air. The fresh air though was simply walking out of the theatre and back into the lobby. He did finish his water rather quickly, most likely drinking it during every awkward reminder of his past. He wanted to see that cute employee again, he really wondered why he spoke to him and treated him so nicely. And it wasn’t even a fake nice like he’s seen before it felt.. genuine.

“Hi, I'm back!”

“Ah, not enjoying the movie?”

“Not really no, that and I need another water.”

You grabbed another water bottle out of the fridge and turned back around to see Loki patting at his pockets, “Augh! I forgot to snatch Tony’s card!”

You giggle and scoot the water to him, “here it’s on the house,”

“Oh no, I couldn’t.”

“Please, I insist.”

“Ah well it seems you’ve convinced me.”

You laugh together for a moment, and he sighs sadly. It looks like something was bothering him. You press your luck and ask him what’s wrong. “You alright?”

“Yeah, no. Um. I’m just worried the movie will spark old feelings in people and I just. I get so tired of people hating me, like on one hand I mean I deserve it I guess after what I did but no one seems to recognize that I’ve gotten better! And I’ve helped the Avengers, and I’ve helped save the day countless times but all people can see me as this attempted dictator who tried to take over New York, and then Earth.”

“But you saved Asgard!.. Well, the citizens of Asgard! And-and You helped fight Thanos right? Didn’t you fool him into thinking you were dead, made a dramatic entrance while joining the fight in Wakanda, even got some real good damage in? I think it’s cool that you’re working on yourself, and it takes time you know?”

Loki nods, he attempts to change the subject but all he can think of is that movie. “Have.. have you seen it yet?”

“I’ve caught some of it! Not enough to really catch the plot but I think I know most of what happens,”

“Yeah..” Loki breathes softly, fiddling with the cap to his water bottle, “I did enjoy the casting choice for me though, Matt Damon is doing a great job!”

“I agree he was a pretty good choice for you, though I do have to say, he doesn’t compare to the real thing.” Loki’s eyebrows raise and you realize what you just said right to his face. “I— um, I just mean—“

“I’m glad you can see my superiority to Mr. Matt Damon.” You were grateful Loki didn’t get creeped out by your declaration of attraction. But Loki continued on with his statement, “He is quite handsome, but more so am I, and even much more, you.”

“You think I’m handsome?” You felt your cheeks get warmer, you knew he could see you blushing.

His beautiful grin said it all, he looked you up and down smirking while admiring your features, “I do, yes.”

Loki rested his elbow on the counter, looking elegant and cool all at once. “When do you get off work?”

“That. Is a good question,” you turn to face your manager who had been standing behind concessions listening while doing paperwork.

Your manager immediately answered you, offering to allow you to leave early with a subtle wink towards you.

“Why do you ask, sir?”

“The Avengers and I are going out for dinner after this, and I was wondering if you’d keep me company?”

“You want me to keep you company?”

“Yes, my darling.” You felt that same jitter in your heart as earlier, Loki really just referred to you as darling.

“You don’t have to. I just enjoy talking to you, that's all.”

You smile genuinely at him, “I enjoy talking to you too, Loki.”

[ozarkthedog]

DAYDREAMING | 𝐒. 𝐑𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬

summary:  Don’t bring sex toys to work. 

warnings:  18+ only. Ben Wa Balls. A Smutty imagine. Flirting. Steve being innocent and cute as a button.

word count: 1,136

author’s note:  This came to me this morning and it was too silly to not write. 

Read Part 2: Learning Curve | Read Part 3: Balls Deep

📖 Master List

This work has Adult Content. If you click “Keep Reading” you have agreed that you are over the age of 18 and are willing to view such content.

The heavy pull of the spheres that were currently nestled in your channel had your belly tightening with every step. As much as the Ben Wa Balls helped strengthen your pelvic floor, they also supplied you with pleasurable endorphins which made your time at work rather stimulating.

You padded down the hall making your way to the boardroom to sit in on a meeting with The Avengers. Being an assistant to Maria Hill, you were given special privileges none of your co-workers had. You spied their jealous glances as you breezed past them with a smile and pushed your way into the room.

Caught up in rifling through the bundle of paperwork in your arms, you careened into a massive wall of muscle. With a surprised squeak you jolted backwards sending the bundle of papers flying.

Just as you were about to land on your ass, Steve’s hands gathered around your waist halting your fall. “Are you alright?” Steve’s arms caged you against his large frame protectively and your hands molded against his sculpted chest as you gathered your startled surroundings.

His pecs jumped beneath your fingertips, the tight blue shirt from his session at the gym smelled of sweat and masculinity and accentuated the thick chords of muscle. You swallowed down a moan that was itching to be heard.

The sensation of safety and power was overwhelming as he kept you in his embrace. Your core fluttered around the small orbs, making them smooth over your walls and rub against sensitive spots.

“Oh! I’m Sorry, Captain.” you squeaked. Your cheeks burned hotter with every passing second as you felt yourself getting wet. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

He smiled at you with those dazzling caerulean eyes, watching curiously as you fought with your inner turmoil. “My lucky day then.” Steve flirted before looking away hurriedly as Nick Fury came bustling through the doors.

You parted quickly, hoping Fury wouldn’t ask any questions as Steve and you gathered your papers while the Avengers slowly settled into the room and took their seats.

The meeting droned on as you diligently took notes and tried not to call attention to yourself. The slick from your mishap with Steve added a whole new level of pleasure. The weight of the balls pressed against that spongy spot that always made you see stars. It was driving you mad, causing you to shift every so often to quell the driving urge to touch yourself.

It didn’t help that you caught Steve staring at you from across the room all throughout the meeting. If he only knew you’d fantasized about him taking you over the boardroom table every time there was a meeting called.  

You pictured it so clearly having directed the little fantasy a thousand times over…

Steve presses your chest onto the cool surface before pushing your skirt over your hips. His fingers glide over your soaked panty covered mound and mouths at your plump flesh. “You’ve got the sweetest smelling cunt.” He’d confess before tearing the flimsy material to pieces and diving into your sodden heat.

He’d work wonders on your slit, dragging his tongue up and down before fucking into your center desperate to taste your cum on his lips.

“Grind that pretty pussy onto my face. I wanna smell you for the rest of the day.”

Sharp smacks to your ass would have you whimpering as you scrape your nails over the lacquered conference table.

His firm body would plant itself over yours as he grinds his girth against your swollen petals. Your bones aching under the weight of the super soldier but when he slowly pushed his cock into your heat, the pain is long forgotten.

“Such a big cock for such a tiny little pussy.” He’d grunt as he stretched your walls to their limit. He’d flex his length stilling deep inside, earning himself a sobbing gasp from your lips.

His teeth would graze your shoulder as he stuffs your core full of him. Bouncing your hips against his as he fucks into you with a steady pace. The table would slide across the floor with every forceful thrust propelling you to hit your peak unexpectedly.

“Gonna be so full of my cum, you’ll be dripping for the next few days.” He’d growl into your neck before biting the tender flesh heatedly. “Wanna see my cum gush from your cun-”

Chairs scrape the floor as the meeting comes to an end sending you into overdrive to catch up. You fussed with the paperwork all the while trying to not bring attention to the fact that you’d been fantasizing about being at the mercy of the Captain.

As you stood to leave, one of the balls easily slid from your drenched heat and into the crotch of your panties. Fear had you slamming your thighs together tightly, praying you could make it to the bathroom before anyone could notice your distress.

You waited until everyone left before slowly and carefully making your way to the exit. The other ball was still nestled inside securely now that you were doing Kegels because your life did in fact depend on them at this moment. You held your breath hoping no one would stop you for a chat as you made your way down the hall.

You curse yourself for daydreaming as you turned the corner too quickly, running into the same massive expanse of muscle.

Steve extended his hand to catch your falling frame but it was too late. Once again, your paperwork went flying but this time you landed on your ass with a pained groan. In the kerfuffle, you didn’t feel the ball dislodge from your panties and roll out into the open.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this.” Steve chuckles bending down to help you on your feet. His smile warms your heart and amongst other places.

“It’s just my lucky day then.” You send him a wink before squatting to gather the spilled papers into a rough pile.  You don’t know where the sudden confidence came from other than perhaps the endorphins from…

You froze, eyes going wide as saucers when you noticed the lone Ben Wa ball between Steve’s feet.

“Hey, a Marble!” Steve exclaims excitedly before picking up the shiny metal orb. He stares at it with longing, obviously remembering his childhood. “Oh, this is a great Shooter! Buck and I used to play Marbles all the time.”

He was grinning ear to ear and you just couldn’t be the one to put an end to his happiness even though this was so unsanitary and embarrassing.

“I’ve got to show this to Buck! I’ll bring this right back!” he shouts as he quickly takes off running down the hall intent on finding his best friend, leaving you in a state of shock.

“Oh, fuck.”

[arcadejohn127-9]

Could you do the Brothers and undatables reacting to MC being poisoned and finding out that Micheal was trying to kill them because he was jealous that MC was close with the brothers. Let me just say your work is great the way you describe the situation before going into the reactions is really interesting. Thank you so much!!!!

I already had this ask half way done but Tumblr decided to delete all my work due to buggy WiFi - I'm currently in pain 😭

I don't know much about poison so bare with me, I just looked at the basic symptoms and went "I'm smart" I've passed out after being ill or just in general quite a few times when younger so I had faith

This also has a bonus Michael part! I've decided to add his response to the boys reactions in its own format or else each one will just have a repeat of the same Michael Response

Warning: angst, implied vomitting, attempted murder, fainting, spoilers of lesson 37 and 16, gore on Michaels part, long

"from Michael...?" You questioned outloud, unsure on how to feel about the parcel you've found.

Your relationship with the angel wasn't a defined one. You didn't hate him but you didn't like him either; there was always something about his presence that made you fearful. You choked it up to be just internalised fear due to hearing the brothers experience of the celestial realm and angels.

You've never met him in person; the first conversation you had of him was when you stabbed yourself with the dagger instead of Lucifer. You saw the light and he spoke to you, surprised and shocked at the love you had for the demons. Even then you never really got to speak to him again, he was a mystery. You've sent a few letters and he's returned some and Simeon is a link between you two. But other than that? You didn't really have a relationship with him.

So why? Why would he send you a gift?

You looked inside to see a packet of apple pieces and herbs inside of a snack shaped teabag. You admired the unique shape and couldn't stop a small smile appearing. It was definitely cute! And you finally got to use the new kettle and cups barbatos got you.

You decided to text Simeon, telling him to thank Michael for your gift. He was surprised by this but agreed, happy you two were connecting.

Whilst your new tea brewed you were trying to figure out a way to repay his kindness. Sure it was simple small gift but he was reaching out - you were giddy! Hopeful this meant he was fully on board to the exchange program.

But you soon would regret drinking that tea. It was so sweet you couldn't stop drinking it; your lips only leaving the cup of a second of breath. It was addicting. The herb covered apples pieces gave it a nice slight bitterness. But it wasn't overbearing but didn't make it taste like sugar in your mouth.

As soon as the last gulp came down; something came up. You hunched over as your stomach churned, a disgusting taste forcing itself up your throat. Your vision growing blurry as you stumbled out of your seat, the light in your room feeling like knives to your eyes. You tried closing them but the effect didn't change. You were barely hunched over on your side releasing everything in your stomach. It stung your throat, your stomach feeling painfully empty.

There was this invisible feeling telling you to go to sleep. You wanted to obey but the light felt too painful. In your dazed state you shakily texted the groupchat a sloppy "help me ASAP, my room" before letting your body go limp, heaving as you just laid there, dragging a nearby jacket over your head and let your vision be consumed by the darkness.

Lucifer:

He's heart broken

How did this happen? You were fine and now you're not moving

Your breathing was faint against his neck as he held you

He saw the parcel and connected the dots, Eden's tea

It was a death sentence for any human, a treat for demons and a punishment for angels

He's started a war once, he can do it again

Whilst he knew he couldn't enter the celestial realm he demanded that Michael show himself

When his demands went unanswered, he was ready to break all rules

"He's gone too far, I don't care for his reasons! I WILL DESTORY THE CELESTIAL REALM IF I HAVE TO! HE WILL ANSWER ME!"

when you received a cure all his angers washed away with relief

Happy to have you awake again even if it was for a few moments

Mammon:

FLASHBACK ARE STRONG

All he can think about his how you looked like in the past; dying in his arms

He immediately went to blame belphie but almost tripped over the parcel

He's an idioit but he knew what this tea was

Becomes feral with rage and overly protective of your unconscious body

He's hunched over by your side at all times just growling at anyone who comes near you

He wanted to hurt Michael but he wanted to stay with you

He'd talk to you and tell you how he was going to get payback

"I should of known he'd do something-! I'll never forgive him- DON'T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT!!! I'M DOING THIS FOR THEM!"

As soon as you get the cure he's hugging you and telling you how much he missed you

Levithan:

When he found you, his heart dropped

It only got worse when he found the parcel and realized what Michael has done

he will remind the celestial realm why he is an admiral of hell's navy

He spends time by the sea communicating with any creature he can get; telling them if things go down he'll need them to flood the gates of heaven

When he isn't planning war he's with you, playing games, trying to ignore how dead you looked

He would remind you what buttons to push when your chatacter didn't move

"YOU THINK I'LL JUST LET THIS SLIDE??!! HE'S KILLED MY BEST FRIEND!"

He broke down sobbing when you woke up after getting a cure

He was convinced you were dead but here you were, alive and awake

Satan:

He's a detective nerd so of course he scoped out the scene

When he found the parcel and Michaels name - oh boy

Never met the man and pities him for letting their first meeting be the angels demise

It wasn't long before he had to be detained

Screaming and tearing up anything he could, yelling at his brother's for falling

He blamed his brothers, he blamed Michael and he blamed himself

Hated being locked away from you, would course more of a fuss when he couldn't see you

"I WILL KILL EVERY ONE OF YOU IF YOU DON'T LET ME GET TO THAT DAMN ANGEL!! I HATE YOU!"

He's only calmed down when you are given a cure and he's told you're alive

Is finally allowed to see you and he holds you tight

Asmodeus:

When he found you he was sobbing

It only grew worse when he found out what happened

In Denial

Not of Michael, he believed that but in denial you were dead or were dying

Kept insisting you were just tired and sleeping

Destroyed an entire room when one of them insisted you weren't sleeping

He'd help you get ready and pamper you, telling you it's okay and you can thank him when you feel better

Would be seen wiping your face often in hopes it'll get rid of that death like appearance you have

"They're fine but Michael won't be, when my precious darling wakes up I'll make sure they know I'll make everything better."

When you bad your cure he started crying and laughing, telling everyone he was right

Clinged to you and let you sleep

Beezlebub:

He found the parcel almost immediately

And went into a rage - we all know how his hunger tantrums are

Would've destroyed the whole house if he wasn't restrained

Guilt

So much guilt, his shoulders are always sagging

Sits by your unconscious body so he feels like he's protecting you

Has tried kissing you awake

Hoping you'll wake up like a fairy tale Character and everything will be fine

"I'm going to kill Michael and I won't let any of you stop me....protect (Y/N) For me."

Was so happy and relieved when you got the cure, sticking to your side at all times even when you were awake

Belphegor:

He was quick to help you into bed and on your side

When he found the parcel he was ready to murder

His rage towards Michael massively outweighed his hatred for humanity - even Lucifer!

Beel couldn't keep control of him mostnofnthe time unless he got forceful, belphegor stuck in a headlock screeching bloody murder

Stress sleeping

Like many of the brothers he develops two modes: calm or PLANNING MASS MURDER

Whenever he gets overwhelmed he just forces body to shut down and sleep besides you

"Michael will face me again, I won't let him kill anyone else that I love! He got Lilith killed and he can't do the same for (Y/N)!"

As soon as the cure was found he was by your side

Letting you rest and watched over you

UNDATEABLES↓

Diavolo:

Found out through the brothers

Sees this as an act of war against the peace he's working for

He was normally sweet and forgiving but it seemed Michael wanted to rip to his last nerve

Demanded for every reliable demon to search for a cure

Even had Solomon try to make one

"Barbatos, what is the possibility of Michael coming down to the devildom or the human realm? I want 'discuss' with him what his actions have caused."

As soon he he found out you were alive and safe

He didn't stop his plans but let himself have time with you

Barbatos:

So much guilt

Like holy shit

Is just constantly questioning how he didn't prevent this

Asked permission from the lord to just change the timelines so this didn't happen but the brothers were against it

They demanded they didn't avoid this situation and let Michael face punishment

That he couldn't refuse, he was angered by the angel's actions

More than he would ever show

"humans are so fragile and their time is so limited - that's why I'm never going to let anyone cut theirs short again."

Was part of the cure search party, he led the group

Once you were cured he stayed with you

Acting as your butler and made to check each of your foods and drinks

Solomon:

It wasn't a wise decision to piss off a wizard with stupid amount of pacts

To think an angel would do such a thing

But whilst Everyone lost their temper and searched for a cure

He was wondering - why did it happen

He was ordered asked to make you a cure

He was able to do it but the real cure was also found - giving you extra cure wasn't going to harm you

But he did plan to harm Michael

"you'd think he was smarter than this, he didn't even hide he was the one who did it but all it does is make my job easier."

nursed you until you woke up

Making sure you had mini cures to completely magic it out of your system

Simeon:

When he found out he was stunned

Betrayal - that's all he felt

How could Michael do such a thing?

But he knew Michael was a cruel angel, many having to drink Eden's tea as punishment

It burned their insides and had any poor soul sobbing for mercy after a gulp

"Michael you fool, you can get away with things in your league but you've involved the three realms into this....I pray you do not make your demise harder for yourself."

Was apart of the cure search party

Soothed you when you finally woke up, telling you it'll be okay

Let you rest as much as you wanted

Luke:

They tried to hide it from him but he kept demanding to see you

He wanted to know why everyone was acting strange

When he finally found out he was broken

His mentor

His idol

His everything

The person who always went for permission and knowledge

He thought so highly of him but he's hurt you

He's done more than that! He's tried to kill you!

He's been sobbing for days and locked himself away, he couldn't bare to see you after his once visit

He believed you were dead and they were just keeping your body

"Michael....why....why would you do this.... I thought you loved your brother's....I thought you were kind..!"

When he found out there was a cure he begged to help but they wouldn't let him

He only got to see you when you woke up and he was hugging you, crying

+ bonus Character↓

Michael:

The angel knew they'd be upset

But 9 demons wanting his blood? One wizard ready to cause mayhem and even his own kind wanting his downfall?

That he didn't expect

In his blind jealousy he didn't expect they'd all care for you this much

Thinking apart of them would be relieved you weren't there

But no

"You were my brother's before you were their partner, I'm simply doing what is right! It was their time to meet him and finally stop controlling all of you! YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO LOVE ME! I'M YOUR FAMILY! WHY ARE THEY MORE IMPORTANT?!"

He got his answer

His wings torn to shreds, chunks of flesh bitten off him and slashes all over his body

He was left in human world bleeding and barely recognisable

They didn't hold back

He dread to think what the rest of them would do when they find him

[all-things-fic]

Rekindled

A/N: Firstly, I want to say a massive thank you to everyone who nominated me as November Author of the Month. I wasn’t expecting that at all and it was a lovely surprise!  Secondly, here is Rekindled. Hope you all enjoy it!

This was originally meant to be for @majorharry​‘s 20k challenge, but I failed on that front. It’s a long one so grab yourself a brew / beverage of choice and get comfy!

I’m about to disappear again as I usually do and start working on my Christmas fic, as well as those Quarantine Harry updates.

Tonight had started out like any other Saturday evening. 

You had been out with friends. Cosy little pub off a cobbled backstreet, in a secluded corner. Very British. Very cramped. All old wood and leather bound seats. The slight smell of stale beer in the air and plenty of chatter that sometimes had you shouting to ensure the friend sitting two people away from you was able to hear. 

This was a pub that you frequented for quite a while now. A pub that made it so some in your friendship group could grab a proper ale, while others opted for more of a fruity alcoholic beverage. A real all rounder. Did a nice roast on Sunday - eat in or takeout, choice was yours - for a reasonable price by London’s standards. 

The minute he had walked in, you had noticed him. You could recognise his hunched shoulders anywhere. Forever silently willing him to stand up straight and embrace the way his height made him tower over some of his friends. Rather than have him try and make himself smaller. Part of you believed it was to buy him time so he wouldn’t get noticed whenever he knew he was going to be in particular place for longer than an hour.

He had been joined by a male friend. Someone you also knew quite well. Someone who you had seen quite recently actually. An art showing over at Cob Gallery being the reason for your meeting which hadn’t happened too long ago. You remembered the invite being shoved through your letterbox, a far cry from when he used to shunt you a quick text and write your name at the bottom of the guest list using Sam’s kohl eyeliner on the evening of the event itself.

You’d taken the piss out of him that afternoon, a quick phone call telling him that he was “no longer the Tomo Campbell I know”. 

That had been two weeks ago. So, you knew it would be rude of either you, or him, to not acknowledge the other. And you knew he would be the one to cave in. 

And you were right.

Tomo’s friendly brown eyes had glanced at you one too many times, over Harry’s shoulder for him to not give you - or anyone else who may have made the meeting slightly awkward - away. 

The continuous trailing of his gaze had in fact caused Harry to chuckle awkwardly, joking at how he wouldn’t let Sam know of his wandering eye as they shared a night on the town. The joke fell short though, as did his chuckle, when at the last glance over Harry twisted his body around to see what all the fuss was about as he leaned against the bar and let his eyes fall onto yours.

You broke his gaze, reaching forward for your balloon glass full of gin and pressed your face as far into it as possible. A feeling filled you that made you hope the hot flush you felt underneath your skin hadn’t started to give away your unnecessary panic. 

See things with you and Harry hadn’t ended badly. In fact, it was more like a fizzle. A bit like the sweet that pops against your tongue. Sometimes you enjoyed it and other times it was unfulfilling, some would say annoying. The latter explained the ending.

No big fights. No fat, hot tears rolling down cheeks. No loss of voices from slanging matches and screaming until the early hours. It just... Ended. 

That fizzle was what made it amicable. You both breaking it off to go and do your own thing. Neither openly keeping up to date with the other, but still absolutely aware of what was going on. In your case that was a lot easier, in his not so much. However, Harry somehow managed to master the art of leading questions without seeming too much of a beg with mutual friends.  

As he looked on at you taking the longest sip from your drink, he had smiled awkwardly before he allowed his eyes to roam the scene of your group of friends and tried to analyse what met his gaze. A group of eight, men heavily outweighing the women with their five to your genders three. 

He would definitely class himself a liar if he was asked about where his mind had gone, and he said that it hadn’t gone to queries around relationship statuses and potential partnerships with any of the men around the table.

He eyed them, all five of them. Definitely wasn’t the guy three people away, neither was it the guy sat diagonally opposite you. They were blonde, definitely not your type. Well, blondes hadn’t been your type the last time he had been between your legs.

His eyes had been zoned in on the guy that had his back facing him, he wasn’t sitting directly opposite you. Instead he was seated in the opposite seat, but one. Better positioning for someone who wanted to obtain a cheeky glance and still be inconspicuous to the group around him.

“I’m gonna have to go and say hello,” Tomo pulled Harry out of his trance, his eyes lifting up from the beer mat that he had been tapping agitatedly against the bar top once he’d turned away from the scene. 

“‘S fine wi’me, mate,” Harry softly smiled, reaching for his drink and taking a large sip. 

“Come an’ get it over with, H.” 

Harry had quietly eyed Tomo after his open ended suggestion of joining him. His eyes slightly sceptical at the proposal but somehow his legs took over his decision making as he trudged behind his artist friend and got introduced to those faces he didn’t know and acknowledged the ones that he did.

Pulling up a pew at the table had been a lot easier for Harry than he had expected. Dragging the wooden stool to sit himself in between you and the guy to his right, who he now knew to be Conor and the person he really wanted to know the name of was Joe. Joe was a wanker- well, banker. Same difference, right? 

Conversation wasn’t always smooth sailing. The larger group helped however. Also helped him get his moments with you and you with him. Moments that neither of you had known you needed before being sat with his knee brushing yours, due to how cramped your table had suddenly become. 

And it was sweltering now. The bare knee of your ripped jeans, knocking against Harry’s bare knee from his ripped jeans as he edged himself closer to the table wanting to catch what the topic of conversation was down at the easily the “laddier” end of the table. 

Harry had fit right in. Of course his demeanour changed with certain people. Those he had already been in the presence of those years previous were immediately hit with morbid delivery and sarcastic humour, while others were met with his sometimes hard to crack shell. 

And like always as the night had gone on the crowd had tapered off. Some had decided to go onto a club, an offering your declined not wanting to spend the night with people rubbing up against you and feeling like one of the oldest people in the room.

Some of your friends had gone back to their other commitments, like Tomo who made it quite clear he didn’t want to miss his “curfew” that Sam had given him considering he was the one on swimming lesson duty in the morning. 

That ended up leaving you and Harry. Surprisingly a pairing that you hadn’t expected to happen that evening and even more surprising, one that you weren’t particularly dreading.

You knew it had something to do with the gin, and definitely had something to do with the tequila. 

Part of you was thankful for the less than responsible drinking habits you had taken that evening. It allowed you to remain calm as your ex-boyfriend sat across from you looking like time was on his side and aging was being kind to him.

It was definitely being kinder to him than it was to you, anyway. 

Bastard. 

Conversation had been a mixture of light and heavy. Harry showing you a series of different pictures he had taken on his travels as he jetset around the world with his album and his modelling contract (that he adamantly assured you wasn’t a modelling contract), and basically just his very healthy bank balance.

The heavy had been you bitching about the contract project you had been working on and asking him if he would be willing to potentially commit a serious crime with you against one of your colleagues. He’d quipped he probably wasn’t suitable but he was sure he knew a guy. 

At one point, his eyes had dropped down to your pedicured toes in your black strappy heels. When he managed to drag his eyes away for your feet,  and rested his chin on the inside heel of his palm, you knew he wanted to say something. 

“‘M pretty sure we have matching pedis,” he groused, voice so low that if you hadn’t been watching his mouth you wouldn’t have caught a word of what he had just said.

Eyes flicking up to his green gaze, you saw the light shimmering through them. Clearly he was amused by your expression of shock and potential bemusement from his statement.

“Sod off,” you chided, pushing gently at his arm. “You’re joking.”

“‘M not darl-“ he cut himself off with a clear of his throat. “‘M not, an’ if yer lucky later I might take m’socks off to prove it an’all.”

“Not sure if I like the insinuation of there being a later.” You paused for a small amount of time, before adding, “Nor the confidence in how you said it.” 

“God loves a trier and so did you, once.” 

He eyed you from the corner of his vision, mouth wrapped around the lip of his glass as he knocked back what was left of the alcoholic contents inside. 

You were sure he hadn’t meant to let that one slip but there was no way he was going to let his expression give him away and silently confirm with you that thought. 

How had the two of you picked up as if you hadn’t missed a beat? 

“You never did mind me keeping them on though, did yer?”

That was enough to break his gaze. To cause a silence you didn’t know how to fill. To suddenly make you feel incredibly parched as if you hadn’t been necking gin after gin, all evening. 

“How yer getting ‘ome?”

His question cut through it all. His voice of concern, matching his watchful gaze as he looked up at you from the empty glass he had begun twirling on the mahogany wood. 

“Was just gonna Uber it back.”

“‘M a fifteen minute walk from ‘ere, d’ya know tha’?”

“I do know that,” you acknowledged, eyes looking over at him and seeing the way his hair had begun to curl close to his temples from the way he perspired in the heat of the pub. 

“‘Course you do. Done that walk a fair few times ain’t we?”

You hummed. The feeling of your lips lifting into a soft smile at the memories of the two of you walking hand in hand through the dark London streets. Harry with his head down, trying to look inconspicuous. Also, so he could watch his feet and try his best not to trip up over them. 

The times he’d done that thing you loved. Where he would forgo holding your hand and instead walk slightly behind you with his arm wrapped around your shoulder and across the top of your chest. His lips heavy against your hair as he hid his face and chuckled breathily against the shell of your ear when he hadn’t been watching his feet and indeed, tripped. It was always inevitable. 

“So wha’s another nigh’?”

And really what was another night? Other than potentially a messy morning. 

Not before long you were wrapping the chain handle of your bag across your body and tottering out of the booth you had occupied all night. 

Silently you had battled with yourself as to whether you should use the bathroom, but didn’t think you needed it considering how you hadn’t had the rush of pressure usually felt when you were really desperate to relieve yourself.

Shame the feeling didn’t last as you felt a huge gust of cold wind, thanks to London autumn air, washing over you. 

With your arms folded around your body as you walked, you tried your best to shield yourself as the lights of passing cars hurt your tired eyes. Harry had been talking to you about all sorts of rubbish, filling in the gaps of dead air that weren’t taken up by the noise around your both.

“My shoes are going to be fucking ruined,” you grumbled, hearing the sound of muddy stones clacking and crunching underneath your heels. 

Harry chuckled at your obvious disdain, keeping himself close to you in the dimly lit area. The stride to his walk was confident, a little more power behind it than unsteady. He had consumed drinks, but not enough that he didn’t realise how close both he and you were to his home.

As you walked, your eyes surveyed the area. A group of people were getting closer, a few hoods lifted making it hard for you to figure out their make up. 

Before you could give yourself time to think, you unravelled your folded arms and reached down for Harry’s hand. 

“Think we could cross here,” you spoke, a chatter to your voice both from the cold and this unusual anxious feeling. Your eyes darted over the road, left and right before you turned as the group approached you. 

A boisterous boom of laughter left one of the groups mouth, causing you to sharply look back down the street. The grip of Harry’s hand against yours changed, his fingers taking your traditional hand hold to one of interlocking digits. 

He felt moved by the way you appeared to still hold the desire to be protective over him. 

“‘M alrigh’,” he pulled you to him, using his hand and causing you to turn your front and press into his side. “Jus’ let ‘em pass us.”

You silently nodded.

“‘S just a couple’a lads walking ‘ome after a night out,” he mumbled. “‘S all it is. You’re alright.” 

This feeling felt foreign as you felt a tightness in your chest while you stood still with him in the middle of the street. You hadn’t expected to feel any sort of hesitation but you, like everyone else, had heard about the incident which had taken place with him. Virtually on the doorstep of his own home too.

Harry offering you comfort and reassurance just as quick as you were to do so for him, had you finding a weird source of strength and confidence. He welcomed the pressing of your forehead to his cheek, knowing if he tilted his head slightly his lips could brush so tenderly against your forehead, your temple. He would most likely get a smell of your shampoo, wondering if you still used the same as before. 

The grip of his hand loosened against yours, his clammy palm, which felt soothingly warm, ran up against the long sleeve of your top. It curled around your neck, holding you securely to him, before he wrapped his arm around you.

Then he dropped his lips, them pressing to your temple and then lower to your cheekbone. He lingered, his breathing slightly quivered as the noise from the group got louder. 

You lifted your head slightly, Harry rearing up just in time to ensure you didn’t headbutt him. His chin was soft as he looked down at you; it took the edge off. His eyes were manic as they moved, there was no mistaking it but everything else about him came off so calm. 

He blew out his shaky sigh, causing you to dart your eyes over his and gently push up onto your tiptoes in your heels to softly kiss his lips. You knew he wasn’t expecting it, you didn’t even know what you were doing before you did it. Yet, you relaxed the minute he drew you even closer using the arm he had curled around your upper back to hold you close.

A wolf whistle caused you to smile against his lips, as he did the same. His gentle breathy laugh bouncing against your lips as he chanced it and pressed pecks against your lips in quick succession. 

“Evening lads,” Harry nodded his head once he came up for air, making sure he got a good look of two of them and making sure they knew that he had. They cheered in praise at the two of you and your public display, threw out a couple of slightly lewd and alcohol fused comments at the scene. One even going as far as to take the red and white striped scarf from around his neck and whip it furiously above his head. “Someone’s ‘appy. The Arsenal must’ve ‘ad a win.”

You nodded as you eyed them, completely embarrassed by the way you had misread a group of loud football fans for violent thugs. You weren’t necessarily far wrong, but still. 

Chattering teeth caused Harry to pull you close to him. “Let's get you in before you catch your death.” 

***

Shoes had been left at the door. 

The aching balls of your feet grateful for the cool wooden flooring and curling into the luxurious fabric of the rugs currently beneath them. 

You’d watched as Harry toed off his obscenely dirty Vans, and walked ahead of you towards the back of the house. The place where his envious lounge and open plan kitchen could be found.

Harry’s home had this way of being welcoming, no matter how long it had been since you had last graced its presence. You assumed he’d made it this way for a reason, especially when that reason was his way of life. Leaving for long periods of time to then return again, to pick right up where he had left off. 

And in many ways, that was how you felt about the current situation. 

Handbag now discarded at your feet, you sat with your side resting against the back of Harry’s teal velvet couch. Surrounded by expensive scatter cushion after expensive scatter cushion, a collection he had amassed during your time apart. 

He was playing the playlist. Not just any playlist, the playlist. The one he would always turn on, volume low, so it was more of a hum than anything else after you’d gotten back from a night on the tiles and fancied a night cap. 

You didn’t need to zone in on the sounds. It so happened that you had heard the playlist so many times before that you didn’t need to have it blasting through the speakers to know the track list. It was burned into your brain and would be for a very long time.

The worst thing of all was that he knew. He just knew. 

His lips had taken on this quirk. Slightly upturned more so on one side of his face than another as he stood at the kitchen island, feeling your eyes watch him as he put together his perfected cheese on toast supper.

It was an offer you couldn’t refuse. A large glass of Cabernet Sauvignon held loosely in your hand as you whispered along to the song playing in the background, mouth watering at the thought of the carby goodness Harry was preparing for you both under the grill of his oven.

The smell that filled your senses was delightful and exactly what you needed to soak up the alcohol you had previously consumed, never mind the alcohol you were about to. 

“Do you want any brown sauce on yours, or ketchup?” You heard him talk louder as the tray he’d been cooking on clattered against his oven hob. 

You stayed silent as you watched him, tea towel over his shoulder as he plated up your toast while his mouth barely sang along to the playlist. Gently lifting the bread off the grill before letting it drop quickly from his grip to the plate because of how hot it was. 

He looked up at you from under his brow, hair fallen into a middle part around his face. His eyes enjoyed the way your legs had curled up beneath you as you rested your right cheek onto your hand and fondly watched him.

You seemed relaxed to him, albeit amused. 

“Don’t even think about laughing at me when ‘m cooking for you.”

You smiled - cheese on toast was hardly cooking - pulling your glass of wine to your lips and taking a sip. “Don’t know why you don’t just get a knife and fork, you numpty.”

“Saves on the washing up doing it this way,” he winced as he dropped another slice to the second plate. 

“And makes you lose your fingerprints in the process.

Harry shook his head as he pressed his thumb to his lips and licked the sore burn, before he gently blew against it. “Never did answer my question,” he reminded, wiping his hands on the towel thrown over his shoulder.

“Ketchup’s fine. Ta.”

Watching him reach across for the bottle of Heinz, you saw him squirt the sauce onto your plate and then saw him do the same to his own. 

Seemingly happy with his work, he whipped the towel off his shoulder and to the side, before scooping up the two plates and striding over to you with ease. 

“Voila,” he spoke, offering you the answer to your predicted hangover prayers, in cheese on toast form.

Reaching forward, you gently took the plate off his hands with both of yours and let your eyes drop down to the melted goodness. Keeping your eyes down you took in the decoration that Harry had added. He’d taken to drawing a smiley face onto the top of the cheese using the ketchup.

“You’re such a silly sod sometimes,” you spoke, lifting your eyes as you watched him drop down onto the couch next to you and get himself comfortable.

Legs up on the coffee table in front of him, almost horizontal with his plate gently resting atop his rounded stomach. Head tipped back and vision lazy, his lips tilted up into a crooked smile as he looked over at you. 

“‘S it okay?”

“Looks it,” you replied, lifting up the toast and taking the biggest bite you could muster. Your nose came into contact with some sauce from your hunger-driven vigour. “Proof is in the tasting though, I s’pose,” you continued, mouth full and covered by your hand to avoid him seeing the chewed up contents. 

You hummed as you closed your eyes, enjoying the taste of the simplistic home cooked food and melted goodness. So simple in taste, but so effective. 

From where Harry lounged, he softly watched you. All relaxed, closed eyes, with a drop of tomato ketchup decorating the end of your nose. 

Before you had the chance, and he couldn’t fight himself, Harry reached up to gently swipe at the sauce and remove it from your skin.

You opened your eyes, blinking over at him as he pressed his thumb between his lips and licked away the sauce he had retrieved. His eyes were mischievous as they glanced at you before he took a bite out of his own food and savoured the taste.  

The groan that left his throat as he chewed was a sound familiar to you in other capacities, causing you to squeeze your legs together and forcefully take another bite of your own toast.

“Tell you what? If there’s one thing I do, ‘s make a bloody good cheese on toast.”

You smirked, amused by his boasting. “Nothing like a slice of conceited-ness as a platter cleanser, for afters.”

“Summat much more appealing for afters, don’t worry about tha’, darling. Got you sorted.” 

***

Bellies full and content, you slipped further down onto Harry’s couch. The two of you finding yourself closer together ask you basked in the warmth of Harry’s home.

“You weren’t lying when you said your nails matched mine,” your voice was sleepy as you spoke, right foot hitting Harry’s left slightly as you brought up your earlier conversation at the pub.

He chuckled into your hair, watching you lift your foot and gently place it atop of his. He made a space for it, moving his right leg so that there was an even bigger gap between his feet to slot yours between.  

“I think mine's a bit lighter to be honest,” you continued, eyes scrutinising his painted nails as much as they could from down the length of your body and his. 

“That’s some bullshit,” Harry groused, rubbing his feet gently against yours to warm them, his voice causing his chest to vibrate against your head as it rested there  “I even had it on m’ hands but I’ve been picking at it. Look.”

Harry obnoxiously held his hand in front of your vision, wiggling his fingers causing you to reach for his fingers and hold his hand still. Sure enough, he was true to his word, presenting you with chipped nail polish that was nothing more than the odd tiny dot against his clean nails. 

You smirked when he pushed them slightly closer to your face than intended, “Alright, think you’ve proven your point.”

Hand knocked back he brought it forward again, “‘M not so sure, try again.”

The only response you could muster up was a giggle fit for a schoolgirl, Harry’s response to pull you even closer as he softly smiled. 

A silence overtook you both, as you closed your eyes and let yourself become more intune with the music playing around you. 

Your face was pressed into the side of his neck able to inhale his worn in aftershave and the soft startings of stubble down the side of his throat. 

The silence was heavy and you knew exactly why. Listening to the base of the song across his speakers mixing with your staggered breathing and rising pulse. 

You knew you shouldn’t but you couldn’t help yourself. It wasn’t like it needed attention drawn to it. Yet, the words were tumbling off your lips regardless. 

“This song always makes me…you know.”

The words were mumbled but of course he caught them because he did know. But it was whether he wanted to go there. 

The thought of talking about sex and the sex you had together in a coherent state wasn’t ideal. He wouldn’t have anything to blame his honesty on, if he wasn’t more inebriated than he currently found himself.

“Think we need some more wine for tha’,” he mumbled, lips pressed to your forehead as you hummed in agreement and felt him begin to shift to raise himself from the couch to retrieve a bottle.

***

More wine wasn’t a good idea and you knew it. From the way your tongue was much looser and your lips a lot more numb now. 

The two of you had begun to dance on a weird ledge after he’d refilled your glass. The kind where you were openly flirting and backbiting against the other to try and see who could inflict the moment that had the two of you wincing. 

“Who caught your eye while I was out of the picture?”

“Who didn’t catch yours?”

Harry was sitting on the couch, side pressed into the back of the couch. Leaning with his elbow and allowing his face to rest  in the palm of his hand as he looked at you.

“Alright,” he stressed with a raise to his eyebrows and a quirk to his lips. 

You were a bit flustered due to the way your back bite to him revealed how you were actually caught up in his business of seeing other people when you tried to act like you didn’t care.

Clearing his throat Harry adopted a soft tone to break you out of your fluster.

“There was one girl. Took her to dinner two times.”

You held his eyes with yours, watching the way he slowly smirked, “But you already know that don’t ya?”

Before you could stop yourself, you threw the throw cushion sitting to the right of you, at him.

“Watch the wine,” he said around a laugh, as he raised his wine glass into the air and pushed the cushion to the floor before it had a chance of creating him a cleaning catastrophe in the early hours. 

“Hate you,” you mumbled, turning to your right to look at him from where you had reached forward to put your wine glass down to the table. Before you sat back you ran your index finger against the rim of your wine glass and tapped your nail gently against the base. 

“‘s tha’ why you’re sat eating cheese on toast and drinking wine on my sofa at almost 2am,” he spoke against the rim of his glass, knocking back what was remaining inside.

“I’ve been coerced to be here,” you replied, watching him reach forward, raising his eyebrows at your false suggestion. When he sat back against the couch he was biting back his smile, his eyes shining and crinkles deeply set in the corners.

“Know where the door is,” he goaded, raising his eyebrows again, arm raising to point in the direction of his hallway. He waited for your response and in that time leaned forward towards the coffee table once more, grabbing the wine bottle and topping you up before moving onto refilling his own.

Your eyes dropped down to the rich red liquid as it sloshed against the clear glass. While his words were telling you to leave, his actions were doing the complete opposite. 

Filling the silence he asked, “So, how many dinners am I competing with?”

“Three” you mumbled as you lifted your drink and took a sip for courage. 

Harry’s head titled as he surveyed you, “Bloody hell you didn’t hang around!”

“I have no more cushions left,” you spoke to his cheeky comment with a light hearted threat of throwing something at him for his brazen clap back. “Only my wine.”

He smiled at your warning to throw it all over him before he drawled, “And we wouldn’t wanna waste tha’”

You hummed in agreement, freely taking yet another sip. Finally, something you agreed on. 

Harry kept his eyes on you, waiting. The two of you almost seeing who would cave in first to try and dig for more information on the relations of the other while you were apart. What he really wanted to know was how many men he was competing against. Was it one man three times, or three separate men? 

With all the questions buzzing around his head, he knew it would be him who would give in. 

He was correct. 

“Gonna let me ‘ave a look then? Pull ‘em up on your phone. ‘S only fair. Mine was taken out of my hands.”

His ambiguous comment alluded to the paparazzi pictures of him that had been splashed all over the tabloid online outlets, as well as every other social media platform known to man. 

You didn’t hesitate, the alcohol in your bloodstream almost encouraged you as you reached for your bag at your feet and took out your phone. Said liquid confidence even helped in your handing over of the phone. “Pass codes the same,” you said, as Harry stared at you before he dropped his eyes down to the screen and tried the first code that came to his mind, your birthday.

The screen shook at him, causing a sheepish smile to pull up onto his lips as he thought about his second guess. He punched in the code of your mother’s birthday and unlocked the phone within a short five seconds.

You did notice the stall to his movements, clearly realising how part of this was wrong. It wasn’t his, or your, business to know everything in such detail.

Sensing his hesitancy also, you told him where to find a photograph if he was so desperate for a nose; on your private Instagram page. He took that as a small victory cause he knew you still had pictures of him on your profile that hadn’t been taken down.

You gave him names, knowing that it was an invasion of privacy for the men in question but equally not caring. His thumb was fast as it typed and spelt out the name into the search bar. Harry also not caring at how desperate he was to see his competition. 

“Hold this for me,” he said, passing over his wine glass so that he could cup your phone in both his hands, his undivided attention firmly on his foe. You looked on as you saw him zoom in on the picture of guy number two, who had the chance of a third date.

He was silent as he looked and swiped and read comments. He didn’t know if this was the type of man he was expecting. Had he even been expecting anyone at all?

Running his eyes over the pictures he was greeted with what he could only describe to be your average City man. All overcoats and expensive suits. 

Looks wise, he understood. Perfect five o’clock shadow. Seemed tall enough in photos. Obviously liked a gym session or two. However there was one thing about him that just looked so out of place- 

Breaking the silence, he said, “Can’t even do a tie properly can he?”

“Neither can you,” you shot back.

“Don’t have to when you have someone willing to help.” 

He looked at you from under his brow to see if you were going to correct him. When he realised you weren’t, he continued, “Never been tempted to fix his,” he asked, swiping across to look at another picture. 

“He hasn’t worn a tie on a date yet,” you responded.

Harry zoned in on the use of the word yet.

“What’s he drive?” He asked randomly, continuing the swipe through the pictures with his right thumb. 

“Range Rover Sport.”

“Probably on finance,” he spoke his comeback quickly, expressing his true feelings. It wasn’t going to be on finance but no one could blame him on wanting to throw a cheap shot in some way. “Doesn’t really seem the type to be blessed with the big dick energy. Overcompensating somehow.”

You found yourself biting down against your lips, trying to stifle a laugh. His pettiness has reared itself in less than ten minutes and you could see the way it wove through his features, with a quirk to his eyebrows and a scrunch of his nose. He was dismissive and you supposed he had every reason to be, you were after all sat on his couch. 

“Why do you really think I’m giving you another try,” you smirked, nails tapping at your glass again.

He held your gaze, “You planning on testing me out, seeing if it still works?”

“Might do,” you took another sip of your drink. “Depends if I have the energy.”

“Why do you think I gave you summat to eat?”

You breathed out a laugh as your mouth fell, right hand reaching up to slap him across the top of his arm. He seemed pleased with himself as he locked your phone and loosely held it out to you.

“‘S enough of looking at tha’,'' he hummed, licking gently at his lips. “How did you meet him?” 

Again a breathy laugh left your lips as you stared at him, incredulously. Harry’s eyes easily held yours as he waited on your answer.

“You aren’t in the least bit interested,” you licked your lips, the taste coating them slightly bitter from the lingering wine residue. “Don’t know why you’re trying to make it seem as if you are.” 

“Humour me, darling,” he mused, lips softly lifting. “Or humour him, whichever you prefer.” 

And you know you shouldn’t be doing this, laughing at the expense of someone else in such a way. You saw the larger swallow from Harry too and you knew he was feeling the same. 

However, here you were, giving eyes to a man that you didn’t think would get to see you in such a way again. 

“And why would I want to do that?”

“Cause at least one of us would make it worth your while.” 

You felt your breathing quicken as you held Harry’s eyes. He did nothing to deter you from holding his gaze. 

“You have to stop being so nice,” he added. “If he isn't doing anything for you, that’s okay.”

Reaching forward you rid your hands of your phone, letting it slide against his coffee table. “And do you not think you slightly have an unfair advantage?”

“I think,” he paused, his eyes looking at you. “I think we had something good.”

“Had being the operative word-“

“And I think we could have something good again. In fact I know we could.”

You stalled at his words. The confidence behind them. It was admirable how he was shooting his shot. Especially given you knew how inside he was most likely quaking with nerves.

“Tell him no.”

His words made you chest feel tight, his hand reaching across the distance between the two of you on the sofa. His palm facing up, you slowly lifted your hands to sit in his.

No sooner had your skin come in contact, Harry clasped his hand around yours and softly stroked his thumb to the back of it. He dipped down, lips meeting your knuckles before he tugged at you so softly you almost felt you had imagined it.

He wanted you closer, the arms length distance now too much as he started to show himself to you. His pettiness and his affection, they strangely won you over. Stoked something within you that had you edging further towards him.

Hand unlatching from yours, he lifted his left arm and wrapped it loosely around the back of your neck. With little persuasion you dropped your forehead against his jaw again. 

Harry’s swallow was audible as his fingertips softly stroked at your shoulder. His breath softly fanned against the skin of your temple, his lips turning to press the faintest kiss to your hairline.

“Tell him to piss off.”

You chuckled, breathily, head knocking itself back to look up at him. Eyes light with a sense of joyous infatuation at the moment you found yourself in.

Harry shifted, his right hand quickly discarding both your wine glasses before it placed itself against your hot cheek. The coolness of his slender fingers soothing and welcomed. 

“Tell him no,” he breathed, as his lips hovered close to yours, as he tilted your face upwards to meet his. 

With your eyes closed you felt a sense of guilt, for some unknown reason. It wasn’t like you were committed to anyone outside of the situation that you found yourself in, but you felt slightly wrong for what you were doing. Harry sensed it, able to read the downturn of your lips for what it was. He nudged his nose gently against yours, allowing his eyes to take their time in admiring your expressions and waited on the unnecessary internal conflict to ease. 

“Want me to tell him?” He asked, leaving breathy and wet kisses down your cheek, and along your jawline as you tilted your head back. “‘S not a problem.”

Your mind was swimming as you found yourself sinking back into the couch beneath you. Harry’s voice melting you as he continued talking, “Really get him to take the hint that you’re not interested.”

He kept his face buried against the underside of your chin as it pointed up at the ceiling, hands tracing down your arms and cupping at your hands to press them into his hair as he sucked at your skin.

“I know what you’re doing,” you hummed, scratching at the back of his head, enjoying the feel of his soft locks beneath your touch. 

Harry deeply groaned as you pulled at the strands, “What’s that?”

“Trying to have your way with me when I’m under the influence,” you joked, quirk to your lips. “Always was that little bit more placid that way.” 

You felt the way his lips moved from underneath your chin, finding the corner of your mouth, before he pulled up to look at you. He eyed you, all heavy lidded and messy lips. “You’re not tha’ pissed are ya?”

“No.”

“Then I’m definitely more than jus’ trying.” He reached for your face, lifting your chin and angling it how he wanted. “‘M taking, ‘m begging,” he spoke confidently, unashamed. 

His lips were dominant as they engulfed yours, a groan leaving your throat as your kiss was messy from the offset. His lips puckered and pulled, drawing you closer to him as he breathed through his nose and gave you his tongue.

Your chest was heaving as he skimmed his lips against your face, mouth finding the sensitive skin of your neck once more as you bit down on your bottom lip and tried not to laugh. 

“Charming of you to want your way with me on your couch.”

Harry chuckled against your neck, face lifting shortly to look at you. His pupils were blown out already, as his skin took on more of a rosy flush from the beginnings of his exertion. That or you’d embarrassed him.

“Sorry, I should’ve asked,” he mused. ”Where’d you want it?”

Legs curled gently around the backs of his thigh, still covered by the denim of his jeans, you pressed against them with the heel of your foot. 

“Where’d you think?”

He knew exactly where. You were a simple creature. You liked simple things. Sex was always fun to have all over the house, but depending on the level of intimacy you craved, depended on where you were willing to open your legs.

Tonight was a weird one for you to decide upon. The fumble on the couch, while it was exciting and showed you Harry’s desperation to have you once more, it would be over before you knew it. Also it would most likely leave you with a horrible crick in your neck as your keepsake. 

You didn’t want that. You wanted your keepsake to be the ache in your thighs from how he had taken you in different positions because while a bed was boring for some, it allowed you the option to roll around for as long as your bodies permitted. Bending in all different shapes and ways that sometimes neither of you would’ve been able to imagine. 

He broke you from your thoughts once more, hand gently finding your bum and tapping against it. “Up yer get,” he spoke, starting to push himself up knowing you wanted to go upstairs. 

With your legs curled around his, Harry couldn’t go too far. He chuckled with amusement as he dropped his eyes down to his legs and yours, before looking back up. He didn’t need to even ask as he looked at you, leaning forward he inhaled through his nose as he kissed sweetly at your lips and lifted you.

A smile pulled onto your face, causing difficulty to continue kissing. “Stop tha’,” he mouthed against the corner of your lips, as he hoisted your legs. “‘M trying to take charge here.”

“Why do that when you’re still so good at taking direction?” The lilt to your voice was one of glee, you had easily gotten your own way. 

Tousling your hair and flicking it away, behind your shoulders, you rolled your lips into your mouth as you felt the slight bruising from his expressions of desire. He was watching you as you looked at him, doe-eyes sparkling with intrigue and adoration. 

“Give us a kiss,” his deep voice ignited a warm fire within, as he still tried to assert himself while he walked the two of you away from his open plan lounge and closer to his kitchen.

You continued to eye him, enjoying the way he wasn’t going to back down. You just needed to stand your ground just as much. 

As your bum hit the work surface, your hands traced over Harry’s cheeks, cupping his face before moving to grip at the counter. Head tilted slightly, he looked down the bridge of his nose at you through hooded, dark eyes. 

He stepped in between your wide open legs and enjoyed the closeness that they brought when you brought them together to keep him to you. Heavy breathing filled the silent air as you both traced each other's features with touch and sight. Taste could wait, but it would get here soon enough. 

He gulped as he swallowed. 

“Please.”

At first it was gritty. His voice tight and throat dry. His lips forming the word confidently. 

Again he swallowed. “Please, gimme a kiss. You kiss me, like before.” 

The victorious hum that left his lips was one that you would let slide, as his hands ran down the length of your arms and reached up to wrap around your own. He placed them back onto his face, mouth breaking away as he left open mouthed kisses to your left palm, nose nudging at the end of your long sleeve top where he inhaled your worn away perfume. 

He could feel your pulse as he curled his fingers around your wrist. It was strong and rhythmic, inviting to his primal desire which caused him to gently nip at your flesh with his front teeth.

Turning his eyes back to yours, you silently asked him for another kiss with your soft and slow blinking gaze, knowing he wanted to get just as reacquainted as you did. 

He obliged, pressing closer to the counter and letting his lips meet yours quickly. His quick change in motion caused you to reach behind you to steady yourself, your hand coming into contact with an item you couldn’t identify until you gasped and pulled away thanks to the smashing sound. 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” you whispered quickly, trying to catch your breath. Harry’s eyes turned to take a look at one of the daintier wine glasses he had pulled down from the rack earlier but chose not to use. The item now lay broken against the flooring of his kitchen. 

“Really should tidy up before we go up,” he groaned, mouth pressed into the side of your cheek as you surveyed the mess made on his coffee table over the other side of the room. He reluctantly pulled away from you, walking the short distance to the broken glass.

“Watch yourself,” you said, meaning his bare feet around the glass.

Crouching down, Harry started to collate the bigger shards of glass together, stacking them up against the tiles of his kitchen floor. As you peered down, still sitting on his kitchen island, he looked up at you.

“Couldn’t do me a favour? Go an’ grab the dustpan and brush.”

You blinked. Was he alluding that he kept everything in the same place? Given how he’d asked so vaguely, knowing you would understand. 

Softly, he smiled up at you and chuckled around his words, “Same place as last time, yes.”

Taking a while to kick into action, you slowly slid off the work surface and let your feet softly pad over to the other side of the kitchen. The third cupboard from the right, on the lower half of the kitchen was where Harry kept items that Anne had brought him. You know, the things that Mum’s knew would be important but somehow never crossed their children’s minds. Regardless of whether their children were grown adults.

Sure enough, there sat the same blue dustpan and brush. The item was as vibrant as the last time you had seen it, in similar fashion. Leaning down you grabbed at it, shutting the cupboard gently using your foot and walked back to Harry.

You handed it off and heard his whispered thanks, as you rested the side of your hip against his cupboards. 

“Don’t think I’ve had this out since the last time you so elegantly broke one of my favourite glasses.”

You knew he was messing with you but that didn’t stop the blush of embarrassment, hitting your skin, and filling you with warmth. “I’ll replace it.”

“‘M jokin’, ‘s fine. Only a bit o’ glass-“

His sentence was cut short as the two of you jumped, the sound of a phone filling Harry’s space.

“‘S not mine,” he jutted his lips out, as he pushed himself up from his crouched position and carefully walked towards the bin with his broken glass.

You turned towards the noise that was your phone and how it blared from Harry’s coffee table, where you had placed it earlier. Walking the short distance, you reached for it and was met with a familiar male name.

Biting your bottom lip, you swiped across the phone and pressed it to your ear. His soothing voice greeted you, slightly worried in tone as he breathed a sigh of relief.

Letting your feet take you to the kitchen island again, you responded telling him you were fine and how sorry you were that you hadn’t let him know you had gotten home okay.

From over the other side of the room, you watched as Harry quirked a brow at you while he picked up the empty bottle of wine and wine stained glasses from the coffee table in his lounge. 

You weren’t home. You were far from home.

“Who is it?” He mouthed as he got closer, glasses clinking as he placed them onto the work surface of the kitchen island, after discarding the bottle of wine as loudly as possible into the bin. 

You pulled the phone away from your ear showing him the name that he had earlier been typing into your Instagram search bar. Under the dim light you could see the slight squint to his eyes and the way his nostrils flared. 

He darted his eyes from the phone screen and back to yours, watching as you put the phone back to your ear. 

“Yeah I had a great night, ‘m just tired.”

Harry dropped his head, a smirk forming on his lips. You were far from tired and this was nothing more than a moodkill. With his hands pressed to the worktop, he looked up at you as you stood diagonally opposite him. 

Eyes glancing down to your left hand that was spread against the work surface, Harry reached for it. The tips of his fingers running gently between the divots of your knuckles, before his hand slipped underneath your fingers and tugged you towards him.

You slowly obliged him, as your eyes moved to his face. “Come to bed,” he mouthed, watching as your top teeth worried at your bottom lip. His right hand moved to slip around to your lower back as you arched, pulling your chest away from his trying to keep his mouth away from the phone.

“Come to bed wi’me,” his voice was a whisper now, not quite loud enough for the person on the other end of the line to hear but a next step up from how he was previously just mouthing his words to you. 

As he tried to distract you, he dipped in and out of your conversation which was the most monotonous thing he had ever found himself eavesdropping into.

With your chest open to him, he nosed his way along your skin, head nudging at your hand that held the phone. His lips pulled into a smile as you faked a yawn, clearly trying to politely give the man on the other end a hint that you were done.

Still he heard the drone of this guy, who was now even repeating things he had previously said to try and keep you on the line with him. You weren’t interested though, too preoccupied by the way that Harry was once again pressing kissing to the skin that he could get too. 

Before you knew what was happening Harry had clearly had enough. 

“We’re tired, pal. Take the hint,” he spoke into the phone that still rested against your ear, his lips finding the bottom end of the receiver. “‘S time for bed.” 

You had to pull the handset away from your ear, not wanting to hear his reaction from the sound of Harry's voice. You blindly ended the call, keeping your eyes on your ex-boyfriend, whose green-eyed monster had made itself known.

He helped guide your phone down to his marble countertop and watched as the phone was brought to life with a call. The same name appearing on your screen as he tried to call you back.

Harry didn’t take long to decline the call, quickly turning the phone to silent and placing it face up once he’d finished. Again, it lit to life, this time buzzing against his work surface rather than omitting a jarring noise into the silence the two of you shared.

“‘S a bit creepy in’t it?” 

His question lingered as his eyes moved between the phone and you, watching another call ring out. “If he rings again, ‘m gonna answer.”

As expected the phone lit up for the fourth time. However, before Harry could reach for the item you pushed it, causing it to slide against the work surface and away, just enough that it was out of his reach. 

Harry clenched his jaw, his muscle pulsing as he looked at you. “‘S he always like tha’?”

“He’s just realised the girl he was dating is in the company of some other bloke.” 

“Dating or taken on dates? There’s a difference,” he raised his eyebrows. “‘S a huge difference an’all.”

You stared at him, watching him lower his body to lean against the counter with his elbows and wipe down his face in frustration. Unwarranted at that. 

“I don’t like ‘im.”

“Of course you don’t,” you hummed. 

Sharply he turned his neck to look at you, “‘s tha’ supposed to mean?”

“That I agree.”

“No,” he frowned. “It was how you said it.”

“I can handle myself.”

“I’m not-“ he cut himself off, sigh heavy. “I’m not saying you can’t.” 

He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, thinking of how to navigate his way out of this. 

“‘M saying that you don’t always have to,” he dropped his voice, slowly standing and letting his itching hands reach for you. 

With his hand resting against your ribs, you stayed still. He didn’t guide you anywhere, he waited. Waited on your next move. When he felt your stoic figure relax underneath his touch, his tight chest expanded. Maybe he could talk himself out of this one.

“When we tried this before,” he softly spoke, pulling his hand away from you to motion between you both, “We shared the load, started to become a team.”

“Yeah and look where that got us.”

He felt his lips twitch from your negative deadpan. “‘S got you back ‘ere again tonight so ‘m doing summat right.”

Shaking your head at him, he rolled his lips into his mouth trying to fight his pleased smile. He dropped his eyes to the counter below him as he mumbled his sorry. 

“If you were to ask me, I think we did alrigh’.”

“You would say that.”’

You watched as he jutted out his lips, before running his hand down his mouth and facial hair. He leaned on his palm, his eyes taking you in and wishing you would speak.

“My Mum talks about you all the fucking time,” 

“Say tha’ like it’s a bad thing.”

“It is when you’re trying to get over someone,” you glanced at him from the corner of your vision.

“Now why would you want to do that?”

“You didn’t seem to have a problem with it,” you were scornful. He shook his head, clearly amused. 

“I’ve still got half of your belongings upstairs, if you wan’ ‘em. You have no idea.” 

You squinted your eyes at him. Trying to read him. “Appearances aren’t always what they seem. Don’t know how many more times I’ll have to tell you about papers and social media, ‘s all a load of bollocks.”

Standing once more, Harry rolled his shoulders and brushed his hair off his face. Once his hands were at the back of his head, he linked his fingers and turned to look at you. Head resting back on his hands, the two of you held each other’s eyes. Him from the corner of his vision, you dead on. No words passed between the two of you. 

“‘M going to bed,” he sighed, dropping his arms and tapping gently against the kitchen counter twice before pushing away. 

His body screamed dejected as he walked away, his shoulders sagged and head down as he walked through his home, towards the second floor and his bedroom. 

Swallowing thickly, you rolled your lips into your mouth again before you spoke his name. The way you called for him caused Harry to stop his movement, back continuing to face you as he silently waited for your next move after you voiced your plea.

You let your feet take you to him, abandoning your phone on the kitchen island and trying your hardest to ignore the white hot anxiety that overtook your being. 

Close enough to touch now, you looked on at your shaking fingers as they gently reached out for him. Your feet took you as close as they could, arm wrapping gently around his abdomen and feeling it quiver with a nervous exhale. 

Lips against the linen of his shirt collar as you pushed onto your tiptoes, hoping that the wine stain upon them wouldn’t attach itself to the cream garment. His head dropped forward, exposing the curvature of his neck to you as his hand gently slid over yours and he rested his fingers between the splayed gaps of your own. 

Gentle squeeze. Reassuring reminder. 

Take your time. 

“Come show me this stuff.”

***

There was always something exhilarating about someone leading you upstairs. The different ways in which it could play out. Playful with a swing to your hands, sensual with a gentle tug to keep your close.

The feel of Harry’s hand in yours was always wanted. Every stroke of his thumb against your knuckles or the back of your hand, a reminder of the affection you had been missing.

His eyes looking over his shoulder at you as he came to the bottom step of the second set of stairs. A silent reminder that you could back out at any time. 

The floorboards still creaked in the same place as always and part of you hated that you didn’t need him to lead you down the hallway because you knew exactly where his room was. 

However, taking yourself to bed never possessed the same majestic undertone as when someone else did.

You were now sitting with your legs tucked underneath you at the end of his bed, rummaging through the box of things that he had neatly packed together for you so they were ready for you to have back if you ever came to collect them.

Every so often you would pull something out to him, showing it and either sharing a story or laughing. As you looked up at him now, showing a tequila shot glass and shaking it suggestively at him, he looked every inch ready to sleep.

Harry was stretched out straight on his bed, his linen shirt still covering his upper body but the buttons were all undone, revealing his chest and stomach to you. Tattoos on display to your eyes that you hadn’t seen for what felt like forever.

The top button of his jeans had been undone as he got comfortable and his ankles were crossed, with his right leg over his left. His eyes were heavily lidded and blinking slower and slower each time you presented him with a new item. 

Double chin forming from the way his head was propped up, he spoke deeply in acknowledgement of the glass with the less than elegant design on the side. 

“Remember getting through a whole bottle of tequila with that,” he drawled, hands clasping on top of his stomach. “Don’t know why we didn’t just pass the bottle between the two of us.”

“That’s because someone insisted that if we were gonna do it, we had to do it proper.”

“Haven’t got a clue what you’re talking about.”

“That’s convenient,” you deadpanned knowing that there was probably some truth behind his words given how inebriated you had both been at the time.

Thoughts aside you continued looking into the box to see a worn slogan shirt peering up at you. Pushing aside the half empty bottle of perfume that was once your favourite, you silently admired the tee that you knew didn’t belong to you.

A soft smile pulled itself onto your lips. Sometimes nice boy Harry was unbearable. He’d taken to folding the shirt that you adored as if it were on a shelf in a posh(er) department store than usual. Think more John Lewis than Debenhams.

Slowly you pulled the item from the box and enjoyed the feel of the soft cotton against your fingers. You loved that the shirt’s collar was slightly saggy, a sign of how loved it had been.

Your voice left your throat as more of a dreamy sigh than you imagined. “I loved this shirt,” you spoke as you held it up in front of your face, eyes tracing over the blue slogan of ‘Enjoy health. Eat your honey.” and the cheeky looking bee that was drawn within the circle.

Who didn’t love an innuendo?

Without a second thought, you let the item fall into your lap, hands quickly turning to pull at your black v-neck top and reveal your matching black lace bra underneath.

Harry slapped his hand against his eyes, quickly covering them. The sound caused you to look up at him. “Don’t be so daft, Harry,” you spoke, fighting your smile by rolling your lips into your mouth as you saw him splinter his fingers and look at you through the gap he had created. 

“Could give a guy a little warning,” he groaned, continuing to peek over at you. 

Shaking your head, you enjoyed the way the cool fabric fell down the skin of your stomach as you covered yourself once more. You knew if you were to turn your head slightly and press your nose to the collar, a mixture of your perfume and his cologne would remain.

You fought the urge however, as you pulled your hair out from underneath the collar and quickly pushed your hand up the back of the shirt to undo your bra. 

It was almost second nature for you to remove your underwear to get comfy within your comfier clothes and the sagging of your bra cups away from boobs was always a delightful feeling at the end of any night. Drunk or otherwise. 

You pulled at the straps of your bra from underneath the sleeves of your shirt, before diving your hand under the hemline and dropping the item less than gracefully into the box that held your other items.

“Think you’re forgetting who that actually belongs to,” he drawled, head resting against the pillows beneath him now and watching you rummage once more.

“I think you gave up the privilege of wearing this item the minute you dropped it inside this box all neatly folded like you worked a shift at Topshop rather than Manderville’s every Saturday.”

He cackled, head tilted back as he enjoyed your self-righteous indignation and absolute pisstake. 

“All Saints was more my thing.”

“That’s because you’re fake indie.”

He was amused as he shook his head over at you with a silent smile. “And being fake indie is exactly why you decided to live on the edge of Camden and not in the thick of Camden itself.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t once tell me that you’d want to raise a family in Hampstead.”

You felt your face heat up at the way he’d completely called your bluff. “That was when I was young and naive.”

“As opposed to us now? Being old and decrepit.”

Again you were silent as you started to put the items around you back into the worn cardboard box. 

“Why’re still fuckin’ around wi’that box?” 

Your eyes snapped up at him as he kept your eyes. “The only thing you should be fuckin’ around with, is me.”

Raising your eyebrows, you said, “Now who sounds young and naive. Anyway, what happened to you just taking.”

Harry was silent as he took in your words, his body slowly rising from his lounged position and he sat up to approach you. You dropped your gaze down his chest and to his stomach, enjoying the slight rolls of his abdomen as he adopted his new seated position.

His eyes were focused as your gaze found his once more. A soft determination. This sheen to his skin in the lamp lighting of his bedroom, causing him to naturally glow. 

Once he was secure in his upright position, closer to you, Harry snatched at the box with one hand and picked it up to sit it down on the floor at his side of the bed.

He then swooped suddenly, hand scooping around your waist and drawing you to him with squealed laughter. His lips fell against your cheek as he shushed you, aiding you as you moved position to get comfortable. 

“Remember the first time I had you in this bed?” He asked, chest to chest with you. Your mouth was agape with your quickened breathing, as his lips puckered slightly at the corner of your mouth and he gently leant his nose to yours.

You both watched each other through heavy eyelids, breathing mixed in rising anticipation. A soft nudge of his nose as he asked, “Do yer?”

A nod was all you could muster. 

“Was good sex,” he husked, hoodied eyes holding yours. “Was always good sex.”

You hummed in agreement. Feeling the way your nerve endings came alight as you pushed your fingers through the hair at his temple. 

Heat flowed through your body, circling in your stomach as his words echoed. 

“Still gonna be good sex, ‘f you’ll let me. Better even.”

The faintest smile pulled at your lips, causing your eyes to glisten. 

“Eh,” he nudged. “You gonna let me, or tell me otherwise?”

“Personally, think you’re just talking a good game.”

“You know ‘m fucking not.”

Harry pulled you to him, his mouth claiming yours easily. So hungry and intense. Lips that were desperate to show you what you had been missing. Lips that were desperate to wipe away the touch of another, asking you what the fuck you were even thinking in trying it with some other bloke? 

Gone was the brushing of lips, faint and fleeting. Harry’s liquid confidence started to come into play as his lips formed into a smile when he gave you his tongue and hummed as he did. 

Harry cupped your face as he slanted his mouth over yours, soft moans leaving your throat as you kept him close. 

Lips were coaxing, as he groaned between quiet wet smacking sounds that otherwise would have had you cringing. 

Now he had you however, how could he part? Your smell was intoxicating to him, as was the touch of your fingers in his hair and nails gently scratching at his scalp. His mewls were catlike when he pressed his wet lips to your skin.

Breathing now more like a pant, it puffed against your elongated neck as he pulled away and made a beeline for your clavicle and then chest, movements slower. Chestnut hair tickled the underside of your chin and caused the faintest of smiles to ghost across your lips from the way it felt.

His nose nudged the collar of his shirt that sat against your body enticingly. The smell of your perfume everywhere to him. 

Now lower down you found his forehead was pressed to your clavicle as you felt his teeth playfully tug the cotton between them. A puff of air left your nose as you bit down onto your bottom lip to try and suppressed your giggle.

“Smells like us,” he hummed, mouth breathing hot and heavy against the shirt that sat directly above your nipples. “‘S tha’ good.”

Your only response was the tipping back of your head, fingers carding heavily through the hair at the nape of his neck. 

Had he always been this skilful? Vocal, sure. But it never quite hit you like it was doing tonight. His deep hums and moans, his hands spreading so confidently across your back to hold you to him.

And when you cradled the back of his head and pressed that was when you found yourself moaning his name deep from the back of your throat as his mouth gently sucked at your hardened nipples through his beloved shirt.

His name left your lips again, this time  in the softest gasp as a small frown hit your eyebrows and your hips started to faintly roll atop his. He moaned gratefully into your chest, his tongue wetting the fabric of his shirt so it clung to your raised nipple.

As he nosed along the cotton, he found your second nipple, his hand quick to raise to the first and squeeze at your breast that had not been forgotten. His touch wanted - you and it - to know that.

This is what you’d been missing so long. A sense of feeling you had buried somewhere else. Blocking out the way he managed to make you feel more alive than anyone else had. 

With cheeks hollowed as he suckled, you whispered, “That’s nice.”

His hum of agreement vibrated through your chest as he kept his face pressed against you. 

Everything about him became deliberate and slow, his hands now moving underneath your shirt and fingertips gently grazing at soft, warm skin prickling goosebumps in their wake.

Sliding lower his left hand palmed against the back pocket of your jeans, fingers catching against the thick and sewed seams. Hand pressed heavy to aid the soft rock to your hips, tapping lightly to the top of your bum.

“‘M gonna take these off,” he hummed, looking up at you from where his face was still pressed into your chest.

“Are you?”

It felt as if the room spun before you could even comprehend what was happening, a squealed laugh leaving your lips next as your arms tightened around Harry’s shoulders. He lightly lifted and rolled you, your back landing against his mattress gently as your laughter tapered off.

His lips were sponging kisses to your jawline and cheeks, as you felt the backs of his fingers slide gingerly against the exposed skin of your stomach. Slowly you felt the fabric pull away and fall slack against your stomach when he managed to twist the button with one hand, as your arms fell against the mattress and into the pillows that were slightly pressed higher against the headboard.

“Took you long enough,” you goaded, a smirk lacing your lips as you felt Harry pull away and watched him kneel sitting back with his feet against his bum. 

His face was a picture, clearly amused, as he swiftly pulled his own shirt away and threw it behind him. Hands slowly trailed back up to the waistband of your jeans as he lightly hovered over you.

His head found your stomach, the soft skin on show from where the tee had ridden up. Soft puckered kiss, he lifted his head and pressed his chin into your stomach. 

“Last chance,” he voiced, soft. While he wasn’t willing to forget about it all, regardless of the ache he had between his own legs, you had to be in this with him as much as he was. 

Blinking down at him, you moved your hand up to gently push through his hair and without words raised your hips off the bed enough for him to get the message.

The smile that pulled at his lips, was so triumphant you had to knock your head back to stop yourself from chastising him for being full of himself. 

Your hands however couldn’t help themselves as they joined Harry while he pulled your trousers down your legs and watched goosebumps rise upon your skin from their exposure to the cold. 

Now he was at the end of the bed, you dropped your head to the side to look at him. The way he looked as he carelessly threw your item of clothing over to the chair that sat in the corner of his room. 

His eyes slowly came back to you, as he followed his own motion and saw the faintest of smiles dance across your features. 

“What yer thinking?” 

You were thinking a lot of things. Mainly more so how mystical he looked in the soft glow of the London evening that was creeping in through the haphazard way he had drawn his curtains. Your smile only deepend at how it was more so from the street lamp lights than any full moon, but he didn’t have to know that.

Of course he would want to though, because your smile was more so on show now thanks to the thought in your mind.

Harry shook his head as he fought his own smile, dropping his face slightly to watch his hands as he fiddled with his own jeans.

“Whatever’s got you smiling, ‘s doing nothing for my ego as ‘m undressing m’self in front of yer.”

You knew he wouldn’t be able to help himself, which is why you lightly laughed. 

He spoke your name in a pretend warning.

“‘S doin’ everythin’ for you,” you spoke sultry, “Don’t even try it. Got a girl half naked and waiting for you.”

At those words he looked up at you, through his curtains of thick waves that had fallen into his line of vision. 

You breathed deeply, eyes unable to move from his captivating stare even though you knew he was practically naked from the waist down. You knew from the way his upper body moved as he pushed down his jeans; you knew from the sound of the clothes bunching around his ankles. 

Now you found yourself wondering again. Wondering if he still kept his condoms where he had done last time. Sometimes in the bedside table drawer, other times hidden in the top of his wardrobe. 

Were you going to see him twist and turn, get him showing you how white his bum cheeks were in comparison to his infuriatingly evenly tanned thighs and legs? Or was he going to hold your eyes, dip his knee into the bottom of his bed and crawl up you once more so he could grab one from the bedside table.

“Not just any girl,” he finally replied, his knee dipping into the bottom of the bed. You supposed that answered your question. 

“No?”

A small shake of his head. 

“The girl.”

Harry chuckled, giving himself away as he watched the way you relaxed deeper into the mattress as he found your legs easy to accommodate him. 

“I’ve never been the anything,” you emphasised.

With his lips against your cheek, you felt his puffed breath as he responded, “Yea, you fuckin’ have.”

You kept him to you with a hand against the back of his head, fingers woven through his hand unable to not enjoy the feel of his silky locks beneath your touch. Reacquainting yourself with everything that you thought you had lost.

His lips unlatched from yours with a soft, wet sound as your eyes rolled back into your head when he started to trail kisses down your cheek, down your neck once more.

There was no mistaking how greedy they were, his chin knocking yours and his teeth scraping against your skin as he held your jaw with a steady hand in hope of keeping you still beneath him. 

Legs moved from where they were open, softly brushing at his sides so your calves wrapped and touched the back of his thighs. The feel of his hairs against your smooth legs becoming a weirdly exhilarating reminder of your closeness once more. 

Head buried in your chest, you felt him locate the wet patch against the cotton from his previous play and quickly enclose his mouth once more. Warm hands pushed beneath your body and the mattress, sliding underneath and raising your chest further to his face. 

Your mouth fell open as you felt the pressure of his lips and tongue, enclosed around your nipple again, grow stronger. With a hand in his hair once more, you wondered if he was going to take you out of this shirt, or fuck you in it. 

As the pressure lessened, with your head pressed into the bed beneath you, you heard the rustling of his nose and face against the shirt. He rubbed his face against you, inhaling and moving his hands closer to your lower back. 

Hands in contact with your underwear, you felt him smooth over the fabric of your bum. He pulled at your thigh, before pushing at your knees with a gentle but assured touch. 

“If I remember correctly,” he started, voice muffled as his face was still pressed to your breast. “This leg needs to go here, like this. Mm?” 

Clammy hand splayed against your thigh, you felt him direct your other leg, “And this one needs to be a bit lower, otherwise you get cramp.” 

There was a pause, and you could feel the way his lips were twitching atop the cotton of the tee. Matching yours at the flippant comment that was only funny because it was true.

Humming again, he added, “Keep ‘em like this. Keep me here like this.” 

Doing what he asked, you bit back a moan when he moved to fit his palm over you through your underwear. The warmth from it radiating through you, making your throb and giving you the urge to fold your legs in on it.

Tentative strokes were what you received, at first. Up and down, coaxing you and drawing you into him. Then his fingers became more confident, certain in their touch, moving with a sense of familiarity you had been missing. 

“‘S this okay?”

His voice was soft, hard to hear over your breathing and the blood starting to rush around your ears. You found yourself nodding, however. Giving him the permission he desired, making his next movement the easiest. 

His fingers hooked, slipped underneath the thin piece of fabric and the quiet groan that left his lips only had you moving your legs that bit higher. 

“‘S it nice.”

Harry was enticing. From his oozing velvety voice to his careful, barely there touch. You were lost to him. Finding it hard to breath as your body begged for you to be actually - really - touched. 

With a heavy swallow, you felt your eyes fall shut with your slow, deep breath and let your head turn to the side, finding the edge of a propped up pillow to shield your torture expression. 

“Don’t hide from me,” his voice lazily made itself known, as he looked up from under his brow at you and caused your eyes to drop as you looked down your body. He descended lower and lower, hands pushing up at his tee against your stomach, to reveal your bare skin to him. 

Spongy kisses, encased by stubble, pressed into your skin. His fingers never once let up in their tease, touch opening you up for him. The soft twitch of your legs when his fingers landed on your clit, sliding over it. 

“Relax for me,” he hummed. “You good… s’it feel good?”

Confident nod, you swallowed again. Tongue pushing between your lips to lick away the dryness. 

“Okay wi’this?” 

Another nod.

The press of his fingers onto your clit caused you to breathe deeply. A hiss of ‘yes’ as you exhaled. 

“Tell me if it’s changed.”

And you knew what he meant. His desire to know if you still liked things the same as before important to him. 

You couldn’t help the low and long moan that left your throat. Neither could you stop the lift of your hips from the bed as you twisted your body as he stroked at your clit. 

Heavenly ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ were pulled from you. Encased by ‘yeses’ of various pitches. Harry’s nose was buried into the skin of your ribs, having managed to push the tee you still wore to underneath your boobs and in the process expose more of your skin to him.

His mouth sucked against your skin on the inside of your left boob, just at the underside, and from the groan he omitted you knew you were going to be left with an almighty love bite. 

“Oh,” you sighed, as you felt his tongue lave at the mark, again nudging upwards and taking the shirt with him. Tongue over your exposed nipple, alert from the cold and due to your aroused state. 

Your lower half was warm, fire stoked while he stroked at your clit. A sharply exhaled ‘fuck’ from you had him smiling around your nipple. The last time you had found yourself getting this wet - soaked and slick, the kind that meant your walls were smooth and would pull him right in - had been with him. 

A laugh left you from underneath your breath, one not noticed by Harry who was too lost in the feel of you beneath him. The thought of anyone being able to get you this way from an act so virginal was unknown. Of course, he was the exception. Of course. 

“Hear tha’?”

So lazy he couldn’t even ask you properly. 

“Nice an’ wet.”

The slip of his fingers moving lower had you humming delightfully, legs falling open a bit more as his fingers danced at your entrance. The contrast of the heel of his palm to your clit was welcomed, warm but dry in comparison to heavily wet fingers. 

You could feel yourself pulsing as his palm gently rubbed you again, nervous energy had you teetering. Fingers at your center. You wanted them, you wanted him in anyway he would give you himself. 

Quiet, apart from staggered breathing, he smiled to himself when he felt your walls give way to him and his two fingers with ease. Your moan was voracious, a clear need apparent as the edges of it died against your dry throat. 

He knew it was his name. He had heard it like that before. Plenty of times. Said in the same tone too. Sprinkled with incoherent desire. 

“‘S that want you wanted?” He found himself asking. “Should’a just said.”

And you would’ve if you could. But instead your head was tossed back and your toes were curling into the sheets. 

These were the moments he has missed. When he really thought about your time apart. The moments where the two of you were so lost in each other that the nonsense that slipped from each of your lips was met with no judgement but rather embraced. 

Reacquainting after time apart. Rekindling your desires and unspoken love for one another. 

Eyes on your face, he couldn’t  quite see you how he would’ve liked but he did nothing to change it. His own want went out of the window in favour of you getting and keeping yours. 

The smell of you was everywhere as he dropped his eyes and pushed his face against your boobs once more. A man quite willing to suffocate in his need to want more. 

He could feel your falling apart under his experienced touch, relentless and unfleeting now. His fingers curled and with each ‘come hither’ your breathy moans only drove him on. 

“Fuckin’ ‘ell,” he spoke through gritted teeth, the tension in his arm burning at his wrist. Mutters of desperate mantras - ‘come on, come on’ - mouthed to your skin.

And you could - like this - you could. But did you want to?

While you were feverishly hot, everywhere, for him - body unable to stop rolling with each pull of his fingers - your head knocked back and softly shook from side to side. 

“No,” you moaned lightly, “Not yet… Harry.” 

“No?”

His questioning had you dropping your eyes, head still lolled to the side with pouted expression. 

Mind still slightly hazy, you stared at him. He was still in his underwear, very obviously hard. Head nudging slightly, you breathed, “Come here.”

Empty. That’s how you felt when he slowly moved his fingers and left you clenching around nothing but the cold air of his bedroom. 

His right hand was against your skin, middle and third finger slightly hovering away as they were coated in you and he selfishly didn’t want to lose that to your flesh but rather his tongue. 

Legs welcomed him, smoothing around the backs of his thighs once before lifting and using your  feet to try to push his underwear down. 

Harry let out a noise you hadn’t heard in a while, a mix between a grunt and chuckle. The kind that created an aggravated fire within you.

“‘S not gonna work,” he mumbled, eyes closing as he felt the warmth of you against his clothes bulge. Your one thigh lifting to encourage him to roll onto his back.

And he did, taking him with you. A mess of awkward limbs tangling. With shaky knees you climbed over him, eyes down and taking in his underwear.

A pair of black briefs fit him just right, hugged him and holding his straining cock. 

Your eyes slowly rose up his body, his chest lifting and falling with heavy breathing as his chin softened while he looked down at you with his fingers just about leaving his mouth from where he’d cleaned your arousal off of them. 

You felt his eyes peering at you as you lowered down, nose first teasing against the waistband of his underwear before you found your lips pressed kisses to the tops of his thighs. Enjoying a little bit too much the feel of his leg hair against your nose and lips. 

Hand lifted, it blindly sought out the waistline of his pants and allowed fingers to slip inside to pull down the material. 

Just about past his thighs, you locked eyes with Harry. His soft blinking gaze and content smile had you grinning impishly, knowing in the faintly lit room he would most likely be able to make out the blush upon your skin. 

You’d saw but more arousingly heard his cock move as the briefs which encased it gave way and it fell back, heavy, against Harry’s lower abdomen. And that was where it lay, next to the hair in Harry’s stomach and down to his pubic region. 

Small crawl to get you better situated, you flipped some of your hair over to your opposite shoulder and felt him touch the back of your head with a barely there graze as you licked up the underside of his cock.

“Shit, darling,” he breathed, voice blissful above you but filled with a rawness only brought on by sexual vulnerability. 

Looking up his body, you could see the grin that had made its way to his lips. His teeth quick to bite it away, with little to no avail. 

You licked again, mouth moving lower to delicately suck one of his balls into your mouth. 

The groan that left him was husky, right from the back of his throat. The kind that gave you shivers from how unguarded it was. His legs widened against the bed, your eyes diverted to his thighs from his movement. How thick they looked as they flattened beneath you on his bed. 

Wrapping your hand around him, you ran your thumb over the head of his cock. Up and down. Slowly taking in every movement and what it did to him. Just like you remembered.

“‘S this right?” You asked, hand and mouth working him and his balls over. Looking up once more you watched him hum, with the smallest of nods. His lips were rolled into his mouth, dimples prominent as they dipped into his cheeks.

His nostrils flared as he breathed and his hair had started to fall across his forehead from how he’d been dipping his head back into the pillows beneath him.

“Squeeze me ‘ere,” he reminded you, voice holding a slight tremble, his hand encasing yours and encouraging a tighter hold as he leisurely dragged both his and your hand up and down his cock. “Slowly- tha’s it.”

You pulsed between your thighs as you watched him moving your hand with his, each downward pull showing his glistening head more and more. Heavy swallow, you knew he was holding back and you would be lying if you said the visual wasn’t encouraging you to take him in your mouth properly.

Almost like second nature you did exactly that. Licking at your lips as you lifted up and wrapped your lips around his exposed tip. When his hand faltered from the pleased sound you voiced now you were on him, you were able to slip from under his grip and felt him continue to wank as you suckled so teasingly. 

With each bob of your head, you felt his hand pull away more, as your mouth and jaw stretched around his hard cock. 

“Yea’,” he groused, deeply when his hand fell to give way to your mouth and move to shift your curtaining hair. Harry rolled his hips up gently, eager to get the last bit of him down your throat. Old him would’ve voiced it too, but he felt this moment didn’t call for that.

He softly fucked your face, if there were such a thing. The nudges of his cock warming through your core as the throbbing sensation that had been lingering between your legs only grew.

Harry fought against himself to make you gag, teetering on it with each raise of his hips as his glassy eyes barely focused on you. Too engrossed in the filth he wished to voice. 

“God, look at you,” he dropped his head back. Ironic really. Unable to continue looking as he said it. It was tame in comparison to how he wanted to speak.

So, he laughed. Breathy at first, before becoming a little bit louder. You lips twitching into a smile as you lifted off of him and gently tugged before letting it fall and bounce proudly erect. Kissing up his stomach and placing your knees either side of his hips. 

He had almost forgotten you weren’t completely naked until you sat on top of him covered up. Eyes too taken by your face to care, as you blinked down at him with a doe-eyed expression that made him want to lap you up in any way he could have you.

His right hand pulled you down to him, lips greedy against yours as his left hand found the top of your bum cheek, trying to blindly find his cock and guide him into you regardless of knowing it wouldn’t work.

“Like this?” He asked as his lips hovered at the corner of yours, wanting to know if you wanted it this way. “How’d you wan’ it?”

“On top.”

“Me?”

Your voices were breathy as you spoke around the faintest of kisses. Both eager to start from the feel of you both so close to each other. 

The faintest of nods was given to him and it was all it took for him to roll the both of you, further continuing to ruckle up the bedsheet beneath you.

“Do I need one?”

And you knew you should be responsible and not shake your head no at his ambiguous mention of protection. All rushed and breathy, chest heavy as he exhaled in a nervous rush, but you just wanted him. Bare and in you. 

Underwear was quickly removed before you’re resumed your position. 

He watched you softly as you shook your head no, Harry pushing the shirt up under your boobs, your arms wrapping around his neck as he continued to kiss at your jaw and cheeks. 

“Planning on staying over?” 

Feeling him shift up and jar his head back, just enough to get a good look at you, you stared at him not knowing how to respond. It was practically morning now, so hadn’t you already? 

His hands moved your legs as you thought, his one holding you where he needed you to be. 

“Don’t think ‘bout it for too long, darling,” he joked nudging his nose gently against you as he watched the way your lips went against you, smiling at his words. 

“Let me know how long we can go for,” he added, gently taking his cock that was sprung and bobbing between you into his hand. He looked down and tapped it to your wetness, sliding it down with a press of his fingers to the topside of his shiny cock to line himself up.

“Gonna let me have you all night.” 

Your breathing picked up, chest trembling slightly at how much more of a statement those words sounded than a question. An amorous glance looked back at him, slow blinking and head lolled gently to the side. 

“Eh? Sleep in the mornin’?”

A deep and shaky breath had your mouth falling, your eyes slowly shutting as you felt him push in. You were right when you thought about how easily you would take him earlier. Body crying out for a good fuck. 

“Fuck me,” he groaned deeply, head dropping forward and hair hanging down. You reached for him, wanting to see his face.

Harry obliged you, his face turning to find your wrist and pressing a chaste kiss to your skin. “Missed havin’ you like this,” he breathed. Quick bite down to his bottom lips, nostrils flared.

“‘S tight.”

He knew the remark was boyish. Unable to stop himself as he eased out and rolled his hips back into yours. Each push and pull giving you a little more of him. Deep frown etched between his eyebrows as his breath caught in his throat, mouth slightly fallen and lips starting to dry. 

“Haven’t-“ your voice croaked, head dipping into the pillow beneath you.

Haven’t slept with anyone in a while. Haven’t slept with anyone since you last slept with him. Haven’t had the desire to. 

He hummed in agreement as the two of you felt the words fall away from you both. Harry’s concentration firmly on each roll of his hips as he gave you more of him. The rhythm he set being one that you could only describe as intimate. Familiar. 

He was warm on top of you as he alternated between grinding dips of his hips, thrusts that were tantalisingly slow, making your hips roll up to meet him and causing him to smile at how you wanted it. 

He had to voice it. “You want it, don’t you?”

He only knew so easily because he did too. He had done the minute he fucked the whole thing up and let you slip away with his dwindling text messages in response and shorter phone calls every time you had a chance.

Your hand glided to the back of his head, the other down to his bum as you encouraged him to give you his entire weight. He was close but you want him closer. Close was never close enough. 

Was that enough to answer his question of wanting it, wanting him? 

Squeezing at his bum, you fought the urge you had to give him a slap, too caught up into the heavy groan that moulded into your face as he pressed his nose to your skin.

“You make me good,” he lowly gruffed against your cheek, his hand trailing down to take yours from his bum.

Fingers laced and pressed against the mattress upon which you lay, you tilted your head back and pressed it harder into the pillow beneath you. You keened and mewled beneath him, breathy noises of indecipherable words as the head of his cock bumps your spot inside. 

“You make me feel good.”

You were taken by his gasp, how desperate he sounded as he hiked your leg higher, wanting you to spread yourself open for him. His hips don’t give you much choice other than to play along as he moved with an assiduity you had never found with any other man. 

He allowed you to feel every inch of him going in, pulling out and going back in. Teasing himself and you with a slow and measured pace that had you passionately panting underneath him. 

“No one gets it like this.”

Looking at him with heavy-lidded vision, you wove your fingers through his hair and tugged. His face contorted blissfully, breath catching in his throat before it heaved out of his mouth as his chest forced him to exhale. 

You were nodding, agreeing with him. No one had you like this. Him like this. It like this. Sweltering and sticky. 

Teeth gritted, he grunted as he thrusts grew heavier now with more conviction behind their motion. 

“Deeper,” you gasped, “Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

His pelvis was heavy against yours now, making it difficult for you to lift and roll your hips to meet his thrusts. And he knew you loved it like this, he still knew that. 

Legs practically pushed to your chest, held there by your own fruition as they rocked and rubbed up against his fleshy sides cradling him to you, feet bobbing in the air with toes curled.

The sensual roll he was giving you caused the grip of your fingers to go slack against his head. You could feel him smiling against your skin, as your breath hitched in your throat and your hand squeezed at his. 

“Touch my arse,” he moaned, sliding his hand out of yours and breathing in quick succession until your hand met his bum cheek once more. 

This time you didn’t falter, gently tapping and feeling the tension to his thrusts as he clenched. Quick squeeze and nails digging in creating crescent moons against his white bits. “Yeah darlin’, know I like it like tha’.” 

Head turned to the side, you messily brought your mouths together. He chuckled as you broke away, probably from the words he’d just spoken. Laughter dying down into a hum as your feet wrapped around his lower back.

His lips were dry as they met yours, too caught up in how his mouth hung open, to make them wet and inviting, as his need to breathe was evident. 

“No ones like you,” you admitted. “No one comes close.”

He revelled in the whine of your last word, how it had your back arching and allowed him to wind his hand around you to lift your bum slightly to encourage your hips to continue meeting his.

He knew you were tired, the breathy whines that were spoken up towards the ceiling were not lost on him. And he knew he had to keep going, to give it to you how you deserved. To make up for the lost time, to say sorry for ‘being a bit of a dick’. A lot of a dick. 

When you knocked your head back, your eyes were unable to concentrate and he was mesmerised by the visual of complete, unadulterated lust that was present on your features. Hair sticking to your temples from your exertion and face void of any concern. 

“Make me come,” you whispered your plea, feeling him bury his face into your neck and drop himself down flush to you. With one hand woven through the hair on the back of his head, your other stayed at him bum feeling the grind of his groin against yours as he lay on you. 

He was sensual now, if not a little tired himself, as his breathing left his mouth in hot pants against the side of your neck. You could feel yourself beginning to flush from the heaviness of his body as you both rocked from the force of his motions and the fullness of him above you.

With rustling sheets and sounds of grunts, your cooed ‘oh’ left you, as you felt the motion of Harry’s hips pickup pace. Your fingers clawed into his hair, lifting the strands and softly pulling as your body ached in the most delectable way.

Harry groaned around a smile, muffled by your skin as he could feel his stomach start to tighten; his orgasm impending. He tried to hold off as much as he could, eager to watch you come undone first in the best way he could as he was rendered speechless and breathless alongside it.

Instead you were both a mess of tangled limbs, with rocking motions so vigorous that you felt yourself moving up the bed. A symphony of noises - slapping skin, feeble grunts and creaking bed.

Harry wheezed, knowing he sounded pathetic by too caught up to care. Through hooded eyes you caught sight of his mouth falling agape before he ground his teeth together as his thrusts heavily rolled into you, nudging your entire body.

Your mouth fell as his name unashamedly fell from your lips. Demandingly, but in a juxtaposed whisper, you told him to give it to you. 

“I am,” he whispered. “Oh, I am, darling- Mmhm.“

You whimpered, feeling each breath get harder to produce as your abdomen began to tighten and your chest heave. “I’m coming,” you hastily whispered. Voice nothing more than a pant. 

Looking up at Harry, you watched his bottom lip become captive to his teeth, as his nostrils flared while he breathed. His thrusts were at their heaviest now, wetter and sloppier but getting the job done.

“Gonna- oh.”

This was the loudest you’d been in a while. Moans long and dying off into wordless bliss as your muscles tensed and your orgasm rolled through you. Leaving you as nothing more than cloudy thoughts, and a warm, floaty body.

You felt the bounce of his laugh against his skin from his breath, as he continued to move above you and moulded you into nothing but a high-pitched mess as he wouldn’t stop.

Body falling slightly slack, relaxed and pliant to the bed, you felt Harry move his face into your neck and nudge his hips once more. His ruts were less rhythmic, rough grunts and indecipherable slurring only matching his pending euphoria. 

With his final, heavily thrust, his hips slammed to a stop against yours. Your breathing stuttered as you held him to you, hands moving over his shuddering shoulders and ears listening to his muffled groans which vibrated through you.

“Yea’,” he drawled. Low from the back of his throat. “Yes.”

***

Sunday mornings were made to be slow. To bask in the stillness. To hear nothing but the blood that was rushing through your ears.

It was far too bright to be considered early morning. Not with the winter months looming. 

You stretched your limbs, listening for the crack of your back as your hands reached for the t-shirt that was still awkwardly bunched up to your armpits. 

Rolling your body slightly you reached for the hem and pulled it down, letting your head fall to the side to see an empty bed which allowed a sense of regret to creep into your morning thoughts. Blinking slowly, you almost missed the sound of the bedroom door gently bouncing against the wall.

A hushed, “bollocks” spat out for the other side of the wood causing your lips to twitch upwards in a smile. 

A pause came to Harry’s movements as he caught your eye in nothing more than a pair of fresh underwear and mismatched mugs in each hand. 

“Stayed the night,” he hummed, eyes softly shining. A soft smile pulled onto your lips as he left a cup of tea closer to your side of the bed and you watched him start to blow gently at the lip of his own mug. With his mouth about to take a sip, he asked, “Fancy staying another?” 

[missymurphy1985]

Friends with Added Benefits (Part 10 - final part)

Warning - childbirth

Taglist @queenshelby @margoo0 @being-worthy @peakyscillian @ntmynouis @janelongxox @elenavampire21 @noctvrnalmoth @ysmmsy @cloudofdisney @lauren-raines-x @namelesslosers @misscarolineshelby @screemqueen

"Who's fucking idea was this..?!" You seethed as another violent contraction tore through you.

"If I answer that do you promise not to rip my balls off?" You glared at him.

"Cocky little fuckwit.. Jesus...." The pain passed, giving you time to breathe normally again.

"Where do you want to be? Where's comfortable?"

"I don't know..."

"Look at me - your body is gonna tell you exactly what you want okay? Just go with it."

"I really don't know how much more of this I can do!" You cried, tears spilling down your cheeks. He dried them with his thumbs and kissed the top of your head gently.

"You're doing so well.. you really are. Come on, lie down and try and relax?"

"Relax?? I'm about to push a watermelon out of your favourite body part and you want me to relax?!"

The midwife came back in and laughed a little at that, quickly stopping when you gave her a death stare too. Cillian eased you onto your bed so she could examine you, holding your hand and getting you to breathe with him.

"Are you ready to meet your baby y/n?" You glanced at her quickly, you'd never felt more unready for anything in your life...

"Hey, hey, look at me! You can do this! I'm right here with you okay?" You shuffled forward so Cillian could climb in behind you, you'd wanted him to be as close as possible while you delivered. His legs either side of your body as you gripped his hands tight.

"With your next contraction, I'm gonna count to ten and I need you to bear down until I get to ten, okay?"

Cillian whispering in your ear how much he loved you, how strong, beautiful and brave you were.. and suddenly you felt the need to push. Alex counted, and you bore down, teeth gritted, clasping Cillian's hands even tighter.

"Nine... Ten... And stop! Good, that was brilliant.. okay it's going to come again but I need you to pant this time, don't push okay?"

"Baby's crowning, he's nearly here, come on I'll do it with you..." Cillian's voice in your ear was so calming, and as he promised he began to pant alongside you when Alex started to count. You felt like your insides were being ripped apart, you wanted to scream but again his voice soothed you completely.

"Head's out... Nearly there now, few more massive pushes and you're done y/n!!"

Another agonising yet calm 30 minutes of pushing and you felt the pressure disappear, throwing your head back against Cillian's shoulder completely exhausted.

"Why isn't she crying?" Cillian suddenly asked, jolting you upright in a panic.

"Alex?? What's wrong? What's going on??"

"Don't worry, just give me a second..." A desperate few seconds passed, and the room filled with a wail, the most beautiful sound you'd ever heard as your baby was lifted up in the air, both of you sobbing and grinning like Cheshire Cats as you took her onto your chest, soothing her instantly.

"Would you like to cut the cord Dad?" Alex smiled, handing Cillian the scissors. He made the cut and Alex set to work delivering the placenta as the two of you fussed over your baby.

"Told you it was a girl..." You smirked up at him.

"She's so beautiful... My god y/n you're a powerhouse, that was the most incredible thing I've ever witnessed.." he stroked his daughters face and kissed the top of your head, "My girls..."

Settled back at home a few days later, you were on video call with your mum in Spain, showing your daughter off as your mum spent most of the time crying her eyes out. The flights had already been booked for them to come over but not for another 3 weeks - no one expected Lila to make an appearance quite so soon!

The doorbell rang after the call ended, Alison and Nathan entered the room, grinning nervously as he sat down on the chair opposite you. You'd not met him yet, but the resemblance to Cillian was uncanny - same strong jawline, ocean blue eyes, he was his double apart from his hair, slightly lighter due to Alison's blonde locks.

"Would you like to hold your sister, Nate?" Cillian asked, perching on the arm of the chair his son was sat on. He nodded, and Cillian rook Lila from you, placing her gently in Nathan's arms. The young boy was beaming now, absolutely in awe of this tiny little person sleeping soundly. Alison took her phone out to take a photo, sitting next to you on the sofa.

You looked around the room and wanted to cry again - pretty much all you'd done since Lila had been born, you were so happy.

"I'm so sorry about what happened Y/n..." Alison squeezed your hand lightly.

"No, I'm the one who's sorry. Pregnancy hormones got the better of me. Thank you for all the help you gave him, he was amazing when Lila was born."

"He asked for it all - wanted to be fully prepared. My biggest regret is not letting him be in Nathan's life, I shouldn't have done that..."

"Well it's done now. And look at them - you'd never known they'd been apart, thick as thieves already. How's Tom handled it all?"

"He's okay, he had some time to process it. He still wants to see me so I guess that's good?"

"Well in that case I look forward to plenty of the most bizarre double dates I think any of us have ever been on!" You laughed, Alison smiled too.

"Me too. So has it put you off, or are you already thinking about another?"

"First chance I get we're doing this again y/n," Cillian piped up, before you had chance to answer. You wanted to argue with him but you couldn't. You'd have 10 of his babies if you had the chance.

Looking round the room, you couldn't quite believe the events of the last 12 months, but you wouldn't have changed any of it for the world.

********************************************************

[itsjustmyfantasyroom]

Green streak.

Nick first and Rafael under the *****

Warnings: Jealous reader and fluffy sweet Nick and Rafi.

WC: 999

Enjoy x

 You had bit your tongue for weeks, not just with Amanda but with Nick too. You had tried to be there for her, she snapped at you so you took a massive step back even though she said sorry for talking to you the way she did, you just kept to yourself. You watched on, Nick making a fuss over her and you weren’t going to lie to yourself, you were jealous. You wanted him fussing over you, showing you that he cared about you,  but at the moment he was just worried about cases and Amanda.

You walked into the on-call room just to breath for a second, the case in a bit full on. You were walking around the room when you heard the door open and you turned to see Nick. He closed the door behind himself and gave you a small smile,

“Hey Y/N, can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Yeah” you turned gifting him a small smile “What’s up?”

“Amanda, is she ok? You’re her best friend, you would know”

“Nick, she’s a big girl”

Nick raised an eye brow at you shaking his head,

“If she needs our help Y/N”

“Nick, she doesn’t want anyone’s help, ok?” you snapped “So just leave it alone”

“What’s wrong with you?” Nick shot back.

“Wish you would fuss over me like this” you muttered storming towards the door.

Nick grabbed your arm as you rushed by him pulling you back to him. You tried to pull your arm out of his grip, his hand dropped away from you, you looked up into his deep brown eyes and a slight whimper left you,

“Talk to me” Nick whispered, his hand coming up to brushed your hair back behind your ear “Do you think I don’t care about you?” Nick stepped closer.

You could feel his body heat radiating through his shirt and he stood over you slightly, his hand going to your hip,

“Not as much, no” you squeaked, your eyes glued to his.

A small smile pulled to Nick’s lips, his hand coming up from your hip to rest along your jaw, his thumb on your chin,

“I care about you more, but in a different way” He whispered “In a deeper way”

“No, you do-“

Nick cut you off, his lips meeting yours peaking your lips gently. Nick pulled back looking down at you, your eyes fluttering open and you smiled up at him,

“Yes, I do. You just haven’t seen it”

“You’ve never showed it”

Nick lent forward to kiss you gently again, your hands going to his chest, your bodies pressing into each other, Nick’s arms going around your waist. Nick broke the kiss and kissed your cheek,

“Not to you. Let me take you home, so I kiss you and not worry about anyone busting in” Nick chuckled peaking your lips again “But don’t you ever think I don’t care about you, you are one of the most important people to me”

********************************************************************************************************************

You tried to concentrate on the case, but your eyes kept looking over at Rafael, at how he stood close to Connie and how he looked at her, he never done that to you. You couldn’t help how you felt, you tried to push your feelings away, worried that it would get too messy, but here they were and you were jealous. You tried your hardest to hide it during the meeting, but when you snapped back at Rafael about some new information that had come in, he frowned at you before you excused yourself to get some air and coffee to try and compose yourself.

You got a coffee and walked out into the small court yard just outside the glass doors and making your way over to a wooden bench sitting down. You took a deep breath and a sip of your coffee hoping you could pull yourself together before you headed back inside. You were staring out into nowhere, your mind blurring when a throat clearing made you focus again. You looked up and you saw the look on Rafael face and you rolled your eyes looking down,

“Don’t look at me like that Y/N. What was that in there? You’re a detective and your acting like that”

“I’ am just tired” Rafael scoffed crossing his arms over his body raising an eye brow at you “You and Connie seem to be doing just fine anyway” you snapped drinking down the rest of your coffee.

Rafael grabbed your chin, tipping your head back, your eyes meeting his beautiful green ones and your cheeks blushed bright red,

“That’s what this was about?” You sucked in your lips your eyes searching his and you nodded slightly. His famous smirk pulled to his face and you whimpered at how handsome he was “I’ am going to kiss you now” he muttered “Any objections?”

“No” you chocked out.

Rafael’s lips crashed on yours, your lips meeting and fitting together, sweet and soft, his other hand threading into your hair and your hands came up and grabbed onto his open jacket, pulling him into you. Rafael groaned into your mouth and he pulled back peaking your cheek.

“We shouldn’t be doing this here it’s not professional” his eye brows rose up again.

“Ok” you muttered back.

“Connie is an old friend; we have worked together for years. There is nothing unprofessional I want to do to her, but you on the other hand, there is nothing professional about it”

Your eyes blew open and he gave you a wink,

“Really?”

Rafael’s lips landed on yours again quickly, both his hands moving to your cheeks pulling you into him more, both your hands going to wrap around his wrists,

“Yes really. And when we get back to my apartment I’ am going to show you exactly what I want to do with you and to you. You ok with that too amor?”

“Yes, more than ok with it”

Tags: @detective-giggles​​ @beccabarba​​  @witches-unruly-heart​​ @dianilaws​​ @scarletsoldierrr​​ @lv7867​​  @permanentlydizzy​​ @averyhotchner​​ @infiniteoddball​​ @fandom-princess-forevermore​​ @madamsnape921​​ @annabelleb49​​ @alwaysachorusgirl​​ @thatesqcrush​​ @yourdearest-love @lovebishoplosamiguelgalindo​​​ @amorestevens​​ @ben-c-group-therapy​

[bondsmagii]

On that topic about cults and the need to belong, I do think you're onto something there. I usually don't even want to go out to hang out with my friends and would rather stay home on my own, and the idea of having organized meetings with a bunch of random people is just... not appealing at all.

Add to that my refusal to give money to almost anything and you have a perfect recipe for me never going anywhere near a cult. I really don't think it has to do with me being smarter (in fact I would say I'm too cynical and that is a double-edged sword sometimes!) just that if you're a cult, who are you gonna try to recruit? The people who are predisposed to listen to you due to their personal history and circumstances, or the ones who are very clearly averse to all that you offer?

Point is every time I've been approached by these types they end up leaving me alone because I just don't want to interact. I will block you if you annoy me enough. Even if what you say sounds interesting, if you try to even slightly pressure me, I will leave the conversation, no questions asked.

Anyway: cults. They don’t like hermits.

exactly lmao. I do see a fair few people online getting kind of smug because they didn't "fall" for a cult or something (usually in spaces dedicated to bitching about MLMs) but really it seems to me to be entirely about personality traits rather than any inherent intelligence just allowing you to see through the bullshit easier. I think a lot of people kind of forget that recruiters know exactly what they're looking for, so if they come across somebody who's antisocial and who doesn't part easily with cash, why are they going to waste their time? I've been lucky enough to only run across a few major cult or cult-like groups in my time, and the first few times (when I was younger) it was my lack of need for a community that allowed me to avoid getting sucked in, and when I was a little older and it was more about potential MLMs, the thing that saved me was simply me being like "nah, I am not interested in a 'fast-paced family environment' that I have to pay to attend the training sessions of" lmao.

related cult-adjacent story: I remember when I was about 14, my parents and I went to Florida to do the whole theme park thing, and we were offered free tickets to Disney if we agreed to spend a morning at a timeshare seminar. my parents were like "oh man this will be bullshit" but decided to go anyway because free tickets, and oh my god. it was insane. we were shown around these condos on a lake and they were admittedly pretty nice, and at first it looked like a really good deal, but then of course it's revealed you'll only "own" it for a couple of weeks a year, and there are all these terms and conditions and hidden costs, and my parents were like yikes. after the tour the group of us (there were about 50 people being shown around) were all brought into this huge room and sat at individual tables, and then the salesmen came out in force. for over an hour we had to sit there with this woman who would just not take no for an answer. finally, when she realised that our answer was not changing, she called her supervisor or whoever he was over. this guy was obviously the Pressure Guy, and he carried around with him a little microphone. every time he got even the most vague 'yes' from people, he would announce it to the whole room on the mic, all faux-celebratory as people came out of nowhere with paperwork and the new "owners" had to sign it then and there. my parents had noticed this and as soon as the guy sat down my dad was like "listen, we're not buying this, we'd like our tickets and to leave" and just as the guy launched into a spiel this absolutely massive cockroach crawled across the floor in front of us lmao. like this guy could have ridden the amusement park rides on his own. my mam started kicking off about it being unsanitary and she made such a fuss that we were marched over to the desk, given our tickets, and kicked out. the complex was so huge that we had to hitch a ride on a dude's golf cart because we were so far from the car and it was like 1pm in Florida and we had no water. dude on the golf cart said he actually hung out by that door because they always did that shit to people who refused to sign up, and he made good tips saving people from heat stroke.

a running joke for a few days was that the supervisor dude was so pissed off with our salesperson that he would murder her and chuck her in the lake, and then we saw on the news that a body had washed up from that very same lake, right on the timeshare grounds. probably was not her (we left shortly afterwards so never saw the identification) but if it was, yikes, and if it was not, very glad we did not get a property where bodies frequently wash up lol. Disney also kind of sucked ngl. was not worth the price of four hours in timeshare hell. don't do it kids.

[spicymayo1983]

Hiya. If you haven't yet seen the 2013 erotic thriller In Secret starring Elizabeth Olsen, Oscar Isaac and Jessica Lange I highly recommend it. I've watched it twice in the past month. Lol.

Oscar's character Laurent Leclaire is so sensual, so devious that I decided to write a short, filthy little fanfic starring you, the reader, and him.

Laurent is sexy evil personified, sigh.

The setting is 1860's Paris. The story takes place before Laurent meets Elizabeth Olsen's character Therese. You are a young (nothing illegal, you are 19) virgin artists model that gets seduced and absolutely ravished by the dominant, more worldly Laurent one evening in his studio when you are posing for him.

Warnings, female receiving oral sex, dominance, frank descriptions of painful virginity loss, rough sex, language, not for anyone under 18. Just pure, gratuitous, thirsty smut. Lol.

But it's set in the Victorian Era so that makes it classy? Lmao.

Touch and taste

Things started out fairly innocent enough. You met him at your older sister's dinner party one evening.

He is a friend of your sister's husband, they went to school together.

Your sister is much more outgoing than you and at 19 you are still unmarried, having never even held hands with a man before.

You live with your sister and brother in law in an old but tidy home in Paris. You are middle class and the home is well decorated and furnished. Your sister is expecting her first child and you are looking forward to helping care for the infant.

The two of you have a warm, loving relationship.

Even for the Victorian Era you are painfully shy, your sister had to beg you to come to her party.

There are several single men there and she's trying to find you a suitor, a potential husband.

He was an artist, and his name was Laurent Leclaire.

You sat across from the mysterious, brooding man and as you attempted to make small talk with the other guests you couldn't help but notice from the corner of your eye how he looked at you.

It was like Laurent was studying you, taking in your shy, delicate beauty. When your eyes finally meet he flashes you a devilish little smirk that sends a shiver down your spine.

Your face turns bright red and you immediately look down.

In the glow of the candlelight you can make out his absurdly beautiful chiseled features. His curly hair, dark eyes, and of course that smile. He made you feel things, unfamiliar feelings that terrified you somewhat. You feel a twinge, an ache, coming from somewhere inside of you. Somewhere where good, Christian women don't normally get those feelings

"Oh dear, what's wrong?" Your sister asks, noticing your flush.

"It's nothing". You reply quickly with a nervous giggle.

"Perhaps I've imbibed in too much wine, I'll be fine".

"Oh my it's getting worse!" The older lady sitting next to your sister exclaimed.

You happen to catch a glimpse of yourself in a mirror hanging on the wall across from you. Indeed the flush has gotten worse, your pale cheeks are as red as cherries.

"Let's get you upstairs". Your sister insists, helping you get to your feet.

"No I'm fine". You reply, sounding slightly irritated.

"You look terribly unwell". Your sister continues. "Come with me".

You reluctantly follow your sister upstairs to your room. You have to pass the handsome stranger on the way by, and you could have sworn you felt his hand brush yours, and then down the soft velvet of your skirt.

Once upstairs your sister helps you undress. You crawl into your bed and she brings you a cup of warm tea.

"You have a fever". Your sister frets as she lays her hand on your forehead.

"Quit fussing over me I assure you that I'm fine". You reply, smiling a little as you begin work on the embroidery project that was waiting by your bed.

"How am I ever to find a suitor with you making me leave the party early?"

"There's noone suitable there". Your sister replies sharply.

"What about the dark haired gentleman across from us?" You inquire, a slight smile creeping across your face.

"His name is Laurent and he is nothing but trouble". Your sister snaps back. "Stay away from him, I mean it, he will ruin your reputation".

Your sister's harsh words surprise you a bit, but you now have a name, Laurent, and you are also intrigued by your sister's stern warning.

Ruin my reputation? What on earth does that mean? You wonder as you nod off to sleep.

The next morning you are awakened by the familiar smell of food cooking and the sound of men talking. Sleepily you leave your bedroom and step into the hallway.

It's him again. You catch a glimpse of Laurent talking to your brother in law in the foyer. You immediately duck back into your bedroom and hastily get dressed.

You dash down the stairs quickly, brushing past Laurent. You look at him and flash a shy smile, he smiles back warmly.

You enjoy a nice leisurely, breakfast with your sister, brother in law and Laurent. You catch him glancing at you again, your face turns a light shade of pink.

Afterwards Laurent catches you alone in the foyer. You formally introduce yourself, Laurent kisses your hand.

"Your features. They're so classically pretty, like a sculpture". Laurent tells you as a rather seductive smile appears on his handsome face.

"I'd like to, if you wouldn't mind, paint you".

You giggle nervously at his proposition as your face turns pink. Laurent gently touches your flushed cheek,

you look at him and say nervously, "I'll do it".

"Wear that beautiful velvet dress you had on last night, and the pearl earrings too". Laurent replied, looking into your eyes.

The next afternoon you nervously arrive at Laurent's small flat/art studio, which was only a short walk from your own home.

As soon as he opens the door he smiles brightly and takes your hand. He leads you to a small room, where you sit on a chair in front of an easel.

Laurent sits next to you, looks deeply into your eyes and says,

"Tell me more about you, y/n, I like to learn more about my subject before I paint them".

"There isn't much to say really". You reply quickly, your face turning bright red again. "I'm 19, from Paris, I love my sister and brother in law. Both our parents passed years ago."

"You get embarrassed around the opposite sex, don't you?" Laurent pressed, taking your hand in his and stroking it. "You're so innocent like a child, but at the same time I know you're curious".

The man has read you like a book, you gasp a little at his words and start to tremble noticeably. Laurent leans over and kisses you gently on the cheek.

"Can I kiss your beautiful lips?" He continues, his breathing changing a little due to his own arousal.

"I've never done this, kissing". You reply, the heat from the lower part of your body becoming almost unbearable. "You'd have to show me".

"Open your mouth a little bit". Laurent orders, stroking your cheek with his strong hand. "Follow what I do".

He passionately kisses you using his tongue, you're shocked but quickly mime what he is doing. One of his hands drifts to your lap and he starts to stroke the wetness that is hidden by your pantaloons.

"Undress for me, I want to see my beautiful subject, all of you". Laurent orders, not asks.

You are so caught up in the moment, in him, that you obey his commands.

Noone has ever seen you like this, male or female. Well, maybe your sister. Definitely no men. You are trembling a little as you stand before him.

Laurent uses a paintbrush to trace and tease your body, you can see his hard manhood through his trousers.

"Let's go into my bedroom, I want to touch and taste you". He orders.

You go into his bedroom and recline on his bed. Laurent undresses, revealing his lean, muscular body.

His hard cock looks massive, intimidating, you've only seen them in medical journals and you've had no idea that they were this large in person. Perhaps it's just his own personal endowment.

Laurent kneels between your trembling legs and gently spreads them.

"It looks like an orchid, a fragile, pink orchid, it's so beautiful". Laurent tells you as he teasingly massages your intricate folds that are peeking through a thick patch of hair with his fingers.

He leaves you for a moment and grabs a sketch pad, he uses charcoal and quickly sketches your womanhood. When Laurent is done he shows you, you gasp a little and say, "I've never seen this side of myself".

"Can I touch and taste your petals?" Laurent pushes, you can see the desire burning in his eyes.

"Taste? What do you mean?" You ask, innocently having no clue what he means.

"Let me show you". Laurent purrs, leading you back over to his bed. "Tell me where you want my tongue".

You relax on the bed again, you gently spread your legs and he kneels before you and spreads them further.

He touches his tongue on your sensitive bud, causing you to immediately tremble from pleasure.

Laurent begins to suck and lick your frilly inner lips, you moan with delight from the intense sensation that you are feeling spread throughout your body.

What he's doing to you feels so good yet so sinful, and dirty.

Laurent's tongue moves down further, and he hits a barrier, your hymen is still intact and fairly thick, he gives it a gentle little flick with his tongue.

He then buries his face into your hairy mound, taking in your sweet, musky scent, the tip of his nose brushing against your wetness.

Your scent makes him moan from delight, Laurent is showing you just how much he savors and appreciates the female anatomy.

He teasingly strokes your innocence with his finger, being extra careful not to penetrate it or break it.

It's almost like he's in awe and aroused at that little barrier.

"My cock needs you, I need to feel this". Laurent begs, you can see the precum oozing from his hard tip.

"It's for my husband". You reply quickly and nervously.

"Noone cares about that anymore, especially in this city". Laurent tells you with a quick laugh.

You are so worked up and attracted to him that you relent, he spreads your legs again and positions himself on top of you.

Laurent starts to enter you, you gasp and sputter in a mixture of agony and pleasure as he slowly penetrates you, both of you can feel the moment your hymen breaks, spilling a considerable amount of blood on his sheets.

"Does it hurt?" Laurent asks.

"Yes". You reply, tears rolling down your cheeks.

"Good". He replies, thrusting into you harder.

With your legs wrapped firmly around his waist Laurent fucks you, hard. The pain quickly turns to pleasure as you become more comfortable with his body.

When he cums he fills you with a fairly large load as he moans and sputters. Afterwards Laurent spreads your legs again, and sticks his tongue deep inside of you, tasting a mixture of your juices.

Your sister is correct. If Satan himself walked the earth his name would be Laurent Leclaire. The man is so virile, so charming and so handsome that even you, the shy, innocent virgin relented to his charms.

Afterwards with his help you get redressed. As he's lacing you into your corset Laurent gently kisses and nuzzles your neck, muttering about how beautiful you are.

You sit with him through the night and he does indeed paint your portrait, as promised.

"You touched my hand and dress when I was walking by at the dinner party, didn't?" You ask, your face turning pink again.

"Of course". He replied, chuckling a little. "I wanted to see if you were as soft and delicate as you looked. Your silken hand felt just like the beautiful fabric of your gown".

"Why the pink background?" You continue, smiling a little.

"The pink represents the blushing of your cheeks". Laurent explains, sounding like every bit the serious artist. "And the colors of your beautiful petals, you are truly a masterpiece of God's creation".

The end

[monstersandmaw]

Male drider x reader (sfw) - Part One

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

It’s Wednesday, so that means it’s ‘new’ story time. This one has been up on Patreon for a week already, and Part Two has gone live today already.

Content: Female reader takes up a job as an archivist in a creepy old house and is surprised to find that 'the master' refuses to be seen at all... Very much ‘Beauty and the Beast’ inspired, if you will. Cameos from Sarrigan Silkfoot and Damien the orc chocolatier (Tumblr links). Wordcount: 2464

EDIT: my favourite comment from patrons on part two has been ‘cranky spooder’

WANTED: Librarian to take on an extensive, re-cataloguing project in a large, private collection. Diverse collection includes books, clay and stone tablets, scrolls, parchments, and various other media.  Applicant must be willing to live on-site in a relatively remote location, and archival qualifications preferred, though demonstrable experience may suffice. Board and lodging will be provided throughout the duration of the project. It is anticipated that it should take between four to six months. More details to be supplied to the candidate following a successful interview.

---

You stared at the strange advert in the paper and let your teeth sink slowly into your lip, a frown playing across your forehead. This was… honestly right up your street in terms of experience and qualifications. In that moment, sitting at the table in your favourite coffee shop in Starfall Springs while a summer rain shower hammered down outside, you wanted to wave that advertisement in the face of everyone who’d said a postgraduate qualification in archive and records management would render you essentially bankrupt and completely unemployable. If this was anything to go by, they were only half wrong. You were practically bankrupt. Well, up to your eyeballs in student loans at least.

“Fuck it,” you hissed under your breath, ripping out the advert and getting out your phone. There was no email contact, but there was a number, and you saved it to your contacts in case you lost the little shred of newspaper, and decided to call as soon as you got home.

The phone wasn’t exactly your preferred method of communication, but it was all you had, so after psyching yourself up, you punched in the numbers and paced about, waiting for someone to answer.

Abruptly, the dial tone cut off, and a crackling on the other end of the line announced that someone had picked up. “Hello…? I’m… I’m calling about the archivist’s role advertised in the Starfall Chronicle… I was hoping for a bit more information.”

“Oh,” came a reedy, thin voice. “Your qualifications?”

You told them and then waited for them to speak.

“Hmm. And your experience?”

You swallowed. “I… I helped the Starfall Museum in transferring their computer system from the manual catalogues…” you said, suddenly feeling like this was the interview already.

“Mmm. So your experience is not extensive then.”

It wasn’t a question, and you ground your teeth.

“Just how am I supposed to get this vast acreage of mythical experience if no one hires anyone without it? I can get you three stunning references from the museum curators and staff, as well as from my professors at university,” you said hotly. And instantly regretted it. “I’m sorry,” you added hastily. “I didn’t mean to…”

“Yes you did,” they chuckled, voice husky and fragile. “And you’re perfectly right. I think you might do well at this in fact.”

“I… what?”

Another soft snort. “What information would you like to know then?”

“Where is it, for a start?”

There was an uncomfortable pause, and you’d just been on the point of asking if they were still there when they spoke again. “There’s an old estate to the north of Starfall Springs.”

You frowned. You’d heard rumours as a child growing up here that there was some mad old nightmare creature who lived in the woods on the slopes of Starfall Mountain and came down into the town on the new moon snatched naughty children from their beds, but you'd long dismissed it as nonsense to make kids behave. Still, it sent a tingle of apprehension down your spine.

“I’ve heard something of it,” you said carefully. “Not much.”

“Widowsweb Court,” the person said with reticence. “The estate dates back centuries, and the collection is in need of some care and attention. If you would be willing to live on the estate in your own, self-contained apartment, with meals provided in the kitchens of the main house should you wish it, then I think you sound like the right person for the role.”

“When would you want me to start?”

In the end, it took you less than a month to get everything organised.

On the evening of your departure, you and your friends celebrated on Temple Meadow, the huge swathe of public park surrounding the town’s religious building, and as you lay back on the blanket, staring up at the sky and surrounded by friends, you saw a shooting star sear through the canopy of glimmering stars above.

Sarrigan Silkfoot and his partner lay curled up nearby, and Damien, the huge orc from the chocolaterie in town, had tucked his own partner’s head against the crook of his colossal shoulder. A thought occurred to you as you watched Sarrigan toss his head back and laugh at a joke whispered in his ear, and you sat up.

“Sarrigan?”

“Mm?” he hummed, laughter still dancing in his eight red eyes.

“I know you don’t talk much about your family, but do you know of any other estates around here?” You hadn’t mentioned exactly where the job was, just that it wasn’t in Starfall Springs itself.

“Why d’you ask?”

“The place I’m going to for this job is called Widowsweb Court, but the library said it’s been abandoned for years, and I couldn’t find much about it on the internet either.”

He went still at the mention of its name. “Widowsweb you say?”

You nodded and realised you had the attention of everyone in your small group.

Sarrigan straightened and tucked a strand of his long, black hair behind a tapering ear. “It used to be part of the Silkfoot family holdings… way, way back,” he began, gesturing with his hand. “But about four hundred years or so ago, there was a disagreement between the then patriarch of the family and the dowager, his mother. He essentially annexed the property and disowned the entire estate. He could have sold it, but apparently he felt just guilty enough not to turf her out onto the street…”

“Why? I mean, what did she do?”

Sarrigan shrugged. “No idea. Knowing my family, it probably had something to do with anti-human sentiments…” he winked at you and added, “We really didn’t like your kind invading these parts…”

“We’re not exactly a majority round here,” his partner said, thwacking him in the belly with the back of a hand.

“True,” he said before turning back to you. “But you’re saying someone actually lives there?”

Damien leaned across and grinned, “Could be a long-lost relative, Sarrigan!”

“Well, whoever my employer is, they have a huge collection to reorganise, so I’m in.”

“You don’t even know the name of the person who’s paying you?” Damien gawped.

You shook your head. “A Mr. Ambleside is taking care of that. He’s apparently employed to keep the estate running and such… He’s the one who interviewed me.”

“Ambleside is an old family name from these parts,” Sarrigan said thoughtfully. “Well, you make sure you keep in touch, hmm?”

“Will do,” you nodded.

The only problem was, you discovered after Damien had dropped you off and fussed endlessly over you outside the tumble-down gates of the estate, that there was no phone reception way out here. Not even a single, sputtering bar.

As the tail lights of Damien’s truck disappeared, you pushed the iron gates open, the hinges screeching in protest loud enough that you thought your arrival would be announced all the way back down into Starfall, a two hour drive away.

Heaving your huge suitcase into your hand, you began to struggle down the driveway. Overgrown, potholed, and muddy, the road was barely even a road after the recent rain.

Ancient, thick-boled trees hung over the drive, branches meeting in the middle like lovers fingers interlaced, and after half a mile of walking, you stopped, exhausted, and sat on your suitcase. You’d made it out of the small, gnarled copse that bordered the edge of the estate, but the parklands that lay beyond seemed to stretch for miles. The thought of hauling your sizable suitcase all that way made you feel faint, especially in the stifling sun. There was at least a cooling breeze that lifted your hair and caressed your skin, but honestly, it was hopeless.

Eventually, after perhaps a quarter of an hour of sitting there, getting warmer and thirstier, and growing no less exhausted, you caught sight of a movement on the driveway. Squinting, you made out a horse and cart, and sitting atop the driver’s bench, a figure with a wide-brimmed hat on their head.

The closer they got, the more you were able to make out, and when they were perhaps fifty yards away, you stood up. They looked to be an elderly firbolg, with warm-brown skin and flaming red hair and beard.

The horse was an elderly, bony looking thing, and the cart just as rickety, but the firbolg drew to a halt beside you and barked your name in a familiar voice.

“Mr. Ambleside?”

“Yes, that’s me,” he said. “You’re early.”

“A little, yes.”

“Well, climb in. Do you need a hand with your bag?”

You looked at it, and then at the height of the cart bed. “If you wouldn't mind?”

He nodded and climbed carefully down. You weren’t sure how old firbolgs got, but he didn’t exactly look young. Having said that, he hauled your bag into the back like it weighed nothing at all and then helped you up to sit beside him on the bench before turning the cart around and heading back up the driveway.

The house itself was nestled in a clump of massive elm trees, masked from view until almost the last moment. “I’ll show you to the cottage, and then you can come up to the house for some refreshments. You’ll start work tomorrow at nine.”

You nodded, not wanting to rock the proverbial boat. “Is it just you and… er… your - our - employer here then?” you ventured after a few minutes of silence with only the rumbling of the cart for background noise.

He shrugged. “My boy works here in the grounds too, and there’s Chiara who tends to the household. Other than that, yes. And the master, of course.”

“Will I be meeting him?” you asked.

Mr. Ambleside looked positively scandalised. “Oh heavens no!” he gasped.

“Right. I see. He’s… unwell?”

That drew a deep scowl from the firbolg’s thick, heavy brows. “No,” he said, but it sounded like he was buying time. “No, he’s not unwell. He just… prefers a solitary life. You are to enter through the back door to the kitchens, proceed up the route to the library that I will show you, and return the same way when you’re done, is that clear?”

“Perfectly,” you said, wondering just what you’d got yourself into.

“If you need to use a telephone at any time, you may use the landline in my office.”

That news came as a huge relief, and you clung to it as you were shown the slightly dusty stable-house apartment just across the courtyard from the main house. Widowsweb Court was a massive country pile, with filigree stonework and steeply pitched, slate-tiled roofs, and it wouldn’t have looked out of place in a horror movie.

Your first week passed without incident. You assessed the vast, rambling collection, and saw immediately that it would definitely take much, much longer than the six months for which you’d been contracted to get to grips with it and get it into a decent order. Even if you had a team of ten strong people to help you, there was no way you could reorganise all the shelves in the cavernous library. It was as large and as varied as any national archives, and contained books and scrolls on everything from ancient magic to the development of medicine in various countries across the world.

Travel journals were rammed in next to tomes on mathematics, poetry beside animal husbandry, and gemology beside botany. There was no scheme to it, and after two weeks, you nearly had a complete breakdown.

Covered in dust and suddenly vastly overwhelmed by the looming, dark bookshelves, you simply sat down on the floorboards and let your head fall forwards into your hands. This was a gargantuan effort for one person to tackle alone.

Something rattled in the stacks and you gasped, sitting up straight, heart hammering. “Hello?”

Silence followed, but after only another few seconds, you heard a skittering of limbs and the slam of a door. Except, there was only one doorway to the library, and it was behind you.

Standing somewhat shakily, you swiped your tears away and paced steadily along the floorboards towards the source of the noise. When you found nothing but dusty stacks and silent  books, you swallowed and turned away.

At supper that night, you ate with Mr. Ambleside and his son, Naril, who was perhaps a year or two younger than you, and looked very much like his father. Noticing your pensive expression, he leaned over and asked in his softly-articulated purr if everything was alright. “You look… I don’t know… Did something happen?”

You sighed, nudging food listlessly around your plate. “I was feeling a bit overwhelmed by the project today…” you said. “And… I heard a noise in the library that startled me, that’s all.”

The two of them exchanged looks and then Mr. Ambleside said, “That was probably the master…”

“But I thought…” you began, though you hardly knew what you thought about the mysterious person who supposedly ran the estate, pulling all the strings from a hidden room in the old house and never revealing himself to anyone.

“Why do you think he wanted the collection organised?” Mr. Ambleside chuckled into his potatoes. “He’s an avid reader, but doesn’t have the patience to do it himself. Plus, he doesn’t see too well any more.”

“Oh,” you breathed. “All those books, and… that seems so cruel… Is he very old?”

Naril shook his head. “No, he’s maybe ten years or so older than us? Chiara reads to him in the evenings if his eyes get tired, and —”

“—Naril, that’s enough,” Mr. Ambleside barked, and Naril’s fluffy ears tucked right back against his head. “We do not gossip about the master.”

“Sorry, father,” he said, shooting you a look that conveyed a fair bit. ‘If you want to know more, ask me when he’s not around’ it said.

For another week, your recataloguing was left undisturbed by noises, but after four weeks of being at Widowsweb Court, you encountered ‘the master’ for the first time, and he was nothing like you’d thought he would be, though perhaps the name of the place should have given it away.

Part Two --->

To be continued next Wednesday... Part Two is currently up on Patreon so you can read it right now on the Pixies and Goblins Tier.

___

I really hope you folks enjoyed this one! Don’t forget to let me know if you did enjoy it by leaving a like and/or reblogging it!

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You’ll have access to stories before anyone else, and you’ll get instant access Patreon-only content as well, including polls and an exclusive monthly story for those on the Pixies and Goblins tier!

Currently I’m also running a CYOA for all tiers, with episodes releasing every Friday.

__

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[redpandaramblings]

Sweet Treats  Sero Hanta x F!Reader Birthday fic.

Happy birthday, @reinawritesbnha!!!  Wanted to write you a silly little fic that I hope you enjoy.

Content Warnings:-  Not SFW situations, cake destruction, nudity, crude humor, Mineta mention, awkward situations, mentions of food, mentions of drinking, probably incorrect Spanish, aged up characters.

Spanish translations are provided at the very bottom of the fic.  I suggest waiting to look them up to avoid spoilers.

Y/n protested playfully as her friend dragged her towards the well known restaurant.  “Come on, this place is too fancy.  Pro heroes eat here!  There’s no way we’re getting in without a reservation.”

Her friend laughed, continuing to lead her towards the door.  “One, it’s not too fancy for your birthday.  Two, we do have a reservation!  It’s a weekday, so it actually wasn’t too difficult to get in.  Sucks a little that we can’t party as hard, but we get to celebrate on your actual birthday, so it all works out!  Now come on!  Everyone else is inside already getting everything set up.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, but followed along without further protest.  She really had wanted to go here.  They served some of her favorite foods, and had fabulous service by all reports.  The place was really popular with the pro hero set because of their discretion and their private rooms.  Y/n hoped to maybe catch a glimpse of one of her favorites, but honestly, chances were slim.

Without any fuss, a waiter took their names and escorted them to their reserved private room.  A cheer greeted them as they walked in.

“Happy Birthday, Y/N!!!!”

“Let’s get this party started!”

And get started they did.  Drinks were served and food orders were placed.  Laughter and conversation bubbled around.  Someone pulled out Cards Against Humanity and everyone was cackling and cracking jokes, trying to find the most inappropriate answers to all the prompts.  The fun is briefly interrupted as someone knocks on the door.  A few waitstaff wheel in a covered table holding a rather large cake.  They place it in a good position before bowing and hurrying out.

One of y/n’s friends stands and walks over to it, brows furrowed in confusion.  “This doesn’t look like what we ordered…  It’s way too big.” They murmured.  “What we wanted shouldn’t need it’s own table…”  They rapped their knuckles on the table a few times to emphasize their point.

Suddenly it was like the cake exploded upward.  Flecks of frosting scattered about the room as first a brunet head, then a muscular torso came into view.  Shapely arms pose into a flexing position.  A masculine voice booms “Congrats on making the top…  fifty….”  His voice trailed off as he took in the shocked expressions of everyone in the room.  “Youuuu are not Denki.”

Y/n shook her head as she tried very hard to keep her gaze above his waist level.  A man had just jumped out of her cake.  A naked man had just jumped out of her cake.  A naked pro hero that she happened to have a massive crush on had just jumped out of her cake.  Y/n discretely pinched herself on the thigh.  Yep, it hurt.  Which means Sero Hanta was currently naked in the same room as her, his very nice looking cock covered in cake and cream.  She snapped her gaze back upward as the blushing hero began muttering to himself, clearly on the verge of a panic attack. 

“That was…  The knocks were the cue…  I mean…”

The hero sank to his knees, the messy remains of the box and cake giving him a little bit of privacy.   

“Mi vida se acabó.  Me acurrucaré en este pastel y moriré ahora.  Puedo ver los titulares.  El héroe profesional Cellophane encontrado desnudo y muerto en un pastel.”

Y/n quickly stood up, hurrying over to where the leftover party supplies were.  Luckily, there was a leftover tablecloth, since the restaurant had supplied their own.  She cautiously walked back over to Sero, holding out the tablecloth.

“Hey, it’s alright.  Promise.  Want to cover up with this?”

Sero blinked a few times, taking several deep breaths before he nodded, reaching out and taking the tablecloth.  He hurriedly wrapped it around himself, recovering some of his modesty.  “Gracias.  Lo siento.  I must have been wheeled into the wrong room.”  

Y/n nodded as one of her friends brought Sero a drink to help calm him down.  “Want us to get some staff or find your friends?  I don’t think you want to wear a tablecloth the rest of the night, though it is a rather bold fashion statement.”

Sero closed his eyes, taking a gulp of his drink as he thought for a moment.  “Flag down some staff, but ask them to bring Kirishima here?  He should have my clothes.”

“No need to get dressed on our account!”  One of y/n’s friends chirped.

“In fact we could strip if you want.  Make it all an equal playing field.”  Another friend said as they headed out the door in search of someone to help them.

Y/n buried her face in her hands and groaned.  “I’m going to murder you all.  No court would convict me.  Murder is legal on your birthday, right?”

“Wait, it’s your birthday?”  For the first time since he popped out of the cake, Hanta took his time to actually look around the room.  Black, white, and yellow balloons hung in the corners.  Crepe paper twisted around the edges of the room.  Some presents were piled in one corner.  “Oh Dios Mio, it’s your birthday.  My naked ass ruined your birthday.”

“Not ruined.”  Y/n chuckled, dropping her hands so she could look Sero in the eyes.  “Unexpected for sure.  You’ve definitely made this the most exciting birthday I’ve had.  Will be telling the story for years.  The time I accidentally got a naked man for my birthday.”

Sero raised his eyebrows.  “Not gonna mention the pro hero part?  Some people would pay good money for that, I’m sure.”

Y/n vigorously shook her head.  “No way!  I wouldn’t want to hurt your career like that!  You’ve got lots more important stuff to do than to do damage control on your public image.  I promise it doesn’t leave this room.”

The others in the room nodded and spoke up in agreement.  “Yeah dude.  Honest mistake.  We’ll laugh about it amongst ourselves, then forget about it.”

About this time, the door burst open.

“Dude!”

A blond rushed into the room.  Denki, took a moment to take in the scene in front of him before he doubled over, howling with laughter.  Kirishima, Bakugou, and Mina followed shortly behind.

“Sorry,” Kirishima rubbed his head, slightly embarrassed.  “Once Denks figured out what was going on, we couldn’t stop him.”

“This is better than if it had gone right!”  Denki wheezed, flopping over onto the floor.  “Happy birthday, nice to meet you!  Here’s my dick, give it a lick, it tastes like vanilla!”  Kaminari dissolved into nearly hysterical laughter as both Sero and y/n flushed scarlet.  Bakugou gave Denki a less than gentle boot to the ribs.  “It’s not that funny you fucking overgrown phone charger.  You really need to quit hanging out with Mineta.”

“I don’t know, guys, I think it’s pretty funny.”  Mina grinned as leaned against the doorframe.  “And I must say, the tablecloth toga is on point.  Should consider it for your next costume redesign.”

“Hardy har.  Didn’t realize this was comedy hour.  Now, did any of you payasos bring me my clothing?”

Kirishima held up a bag and gave it a shake.  “Clothes and wipes to get the gunk off ya.”

“Gracias, Eijiro.  You’re the only good man here.”

“Hey!” Bakugou objected.

“You’ll make the buen amigo list again if you manage to get services comped for these lovely folks.”

“Already did that as soon as we figured out what happened, soy sauce face.”

“Excellent.  Thank you.”  Sero sighed.  “Now can you please help me out of this table so that I can get dressed and quit intruding on the party of this encantadora dama?”

“Nope!”  Mina laughed.  “Or at least not right away.  First, pictures!”

“¿Imágenes? ¿Seriamente?”  Sero groaned.

“Absolutely!  We need to capture this moment forever!”

“Agreed!  I’ll take the pics so everyone else can crowd in and hand me your cameras if you want!” y/n’s friend piped up.

“If any of these pictures get out…” Bakugou growled.

“We’ve already been over that.  Personal mementos only!  Scout’s honour!”  y/n’s friend placed a hand over their heart and tried to tame their grin into something more serious.

And so that’s how y/n found herself perched next to her favorite hero, as flash after flash went off, taking group shots.  And it seemed that also just as quickly, Kirishima was helping to haul his friend out of the cake and cardboard remains.  They took over a corner, Denki and Kirishima holding up the tablecloth like a privacy curtain while Sero got himself cleaned up and dressed.  It was around this time that a very apologetic staff member showed up with a large angel food cake, placing it on the table while assuring everyone that their bills had been taken care of.  They wheeled out the other cake as they left.  After Sero was fully dressed, y/n cleared her throat and said,  “Would you like to stay for cake since yours is gone now?  Or have you had enough cake for the night?”

“Well,” Sero drawled, a mischievous grin on his face.  “I’m not rude enough to refuse a lady her wish on her birthday.”

“You had me at cake!”  Denki exclaimed, already sliding into a chair.

Everyone gathered around the table.  Happy Birthday was sung, candles were blown out, cake was cut and distributed.  Conversation flowed surprisingly easy, talking about jobs, and pets, and birthdays past.  Y/n shared about the birthday they’d almost accidentally set their nan on fire due to an unfortunate silly string incident.  Sero told about the birthday that was the day his quirk fully activated and he had accidentally taped himself to the ceiling.  It had taken his family half an hour to find him.  Bakugou claimed to have never had an embarrassing birthday, and threatened to explode his friends' faces when the rest of the Bakusquad started listing one thing after another.  And so several hours flew by with everyone enjoying themselves.  Bakugou finally looked at the clock and stretched, standing up.

“Hey nerds, place if going to close soon.  We need to go grab our shit.”

The others glanced at the clock before also scrambling up.  “Shit, yeah, completely lost track of time!”  Denki headed to the door.  “Later, gators!  Had an awesome night!  Should do it again sometime.  And happy birthday, Y/n!”

“Thanks, was a great night!  And congrats on cracking the top fifty!”  Y/n called.

Denki waved as he walked out the door.  Mina, Kirishima, and Bakugou also said their goodbyes and headed out.  Sero, however, lingered for a bit.

“It did turn out to be a good night.  But I am still sorry for interrupting your party like that.”

“For the last time, it’s fine”  Y/n laughed.

Sero cast his eyes down, bashfully, mumbling protests. But then, he noticed something attached to your bag. He interrupted his own rambling apology to ask “Is that a Cellophane tape dispenser key chain?”

Really, he didn’t have to ask. He knew all his own merch. That particular key chain was one of his first products. It hadn’t sold very well, and had only lasted one small run. They were really hard to find anymore. 

Before y/n had a chance to reply, her friend clapped her on the shoulder and said “Yep! She has three of them. One on her purse, a spare in case this one breaks, and one to keep in pristine condition.”

“Shut!  Up!” Y/n hissed.

Grinning, her friend continued.  “Pretty sure she has at least one of everything of the official merch.  She’s been a mega fan for years.  Total simp.  That’s why the party colors were black, white, and yellow.  Low key Cellophane themed.”

Y/n closed her eyes, resigned.  “If the floor doesn’t swallow me up right now, I’m burning your Dynamite body pillow next chance I get.”

Sero blushed as he grinned, one long arm raising to scratch the back of his head.  “Well now I don’t feel quite so bad about what happened.  One of a kind birthday show for my partidaria número uno.”

Y/n could feel their blush creeping down their neck.  “Really, it was just an honest mistake!  No big deal!”  She squeaked.

“Regardless, I do want to make it up to you, hermosa.  So, how about we exchange numbers?”

“What?!”  Y/n’s squeak reached an abnormally high pitch.

“Well this way we can get in touch, and I can make it up to you somehow.  Some exclusive merch.  Tickets to an event…  A date perhaps?”  Hanta’s grin spread wider.

Y/n’s brain stalled.  Her friends were quick to jump in.  “Yes!”

“She’d love to.”

“She’s free next Friday and Sunday!”

Y/n’s brain started to kick back in “Guys, what?  No!”

“So you wouldn’t like to go out with me next Sunday?”  Hanta whined with an exaggerated pout.

“No!  I mean…”  Y/n drew a deep shaking breath.  “I’d… I’d like that.  If you actually mean it, that is.”

Hanta pulled out his phone and handed it to y/n.  “Absolutely.  Just put in your number and I’ll text you.  No voy a dejar pasar esta oportunidad.  Tendríamos la mejor historia para contarles a nuestros hijos cómo nos conocimos.”

Y/n furrowed their eyebrows, only managing to catch a few words of the Spanish as they entered their number in.  “I didn’t quite catch all that…”

One of y/n’s friends called from across the room.  “Hey slick!  Es mejor que al menos haya una propuesta antes de planificar los hijos.”

Hanta blushed bright red while laughing.  “Noted.”

Y/n handed Sero his phone back.  “Neither of you are going to tell me what you said, are you?”

“Nope!  I’ll be texting you soon, hermosa.  But for now, hasta luego.”  Sero waved before jogging out the door and down the hallway, heading back to his friends.  Y/n waved, before going to help clean up, ignoring the giggles and teasing of her friends.  Soon enough, everything was taken care of.  Y/n said her goodbyes and headed out.  She hadn’t even made it to the car before her phone buzzed in her pocket.  When she pulled it out, there was a text from an unknown number that read “I can’t wait to see what the future brings.  Happy Birthday,  Princesa.”

My life is over.

I'll curl up in this cake and die now.

I can see the headlines. Professional hero Cellophane found naked and dead in a cake.

Thank you.  I’m sorry.

My God.

Clowns

Thanks

Good friend.

Lovely lady.

Pictures?  Seriously?”

Number one fan.

Beautiful.

I will not miss this opportunity. We would have the best story to tell our children how we met.

There better at least be a proposal before you plan of children.

Princess

Taglist- @kat-unzel

[telli1206]

The Heart Will Follow (Chapter 2)

Jay’s never had a crush...until he met Carlos. And now he can’t stay away.

Carlos doesn’t know what to make of Jay’s presence, yet. But what should he do, exactly, about a boy that’s both cute AND terrifying?

A collection of Jaylos isle meetings, inspired by this beautiful headcanon I came across randomly that I can’t get out of my head. And thank you to @hersilentlanguage for motivating me to post this!

AO3

Chapter 1

Chapter 2: It Was Only Me And You

Evie tilts her head slowly, trying ever so gingerly to cast a subtle glance over her shoulder. Once she catches a flash of dark eyes, she whips back around. She tries to keep her actions as casual and composed as possible, but Carlos quirks a brow when he notices her mouth tipped open in surprise.

“He’s looking over here again. He’s-yeah, Jay’s definitely staring at you.”

Carlos sighs deeply and scrunches his eyes closed, letting his body slink back lax in his chair.

“Really? W-why do you think he keeps, doing that?”

Evie chews on her lip for a moment, examining Carlos carefully as his eyes flutter open to meet hers.

“Who knows.” She waves off the topic, leaning forward to help Carlos tackle the massive pile of books on his desk. “But there’s no point in worrying about it right now, is there? We have to get you home so you can catch up on these assignments.”

Carlos blinks, staring at her with a surprised look. He starts to turn, as if debating a look behind him, to see what Evie saw, but instead shifts back quickly and straightens up in his seat.

“O-ok. I guess. There is a lot here for me to do.”

He grabs his bag, smiling gratefully as Evie starts to stack his books so he can easily slide them in.

“Thanks, Evie.”

Evie feels a warmth bloom in her chest, and she has to fight down the happy curl that’s making its way across her lips. She only officially met her new friend a couple of hours ago, and already she feels giddy with excitement to have found a fellow kind soul on this dump of an island. She only wishes that she had a chance to meet him sooner. The fact that Carlos was hidden this whole time in the mansion just across the way from her seems like a travesty - a friendship that she’s really needed, and been deprived of.

Her resistance to smiling ebbs away the more she watches Carlos. He’s stopping every time he picks up a book to let his fingers trace across the letters on the cover, brown eyes alight with wonder, before carefully tucking his new treasure safely into his bag. It’s definitely slowing down their exit from class, but Evie can’t help but marvel at how excited Carlos is for school. It’s adorable. 

And she finally has someone she can ask to study that won’t look at her like a complete freak for actually wanting to do her school work.

Evie’s knocked out of her thoughts by a loud snort from behind, obnoxious enough to startle her and make Carlos flinch. Her eyes narrow at Mal, who flashes her a steely glare while dragging Jay along past her and Carlos. 

Jay’s constant presence makes Evie uneasy. Even as Mal pulls him by forcefully, he’s still staring at Carlos. And now he’s close...too close for her comfort. She tenses when she sees the thief leaning in even closer to her friend, only relaxing when Mal firmly yanks him away, earning space between Jay and Carlos. 

Evie comes around the desk to stand by Carlos, making a fuss under the guise of helping him more, but secretly hoping for protection for him that can come with her proximity. Carlos smiles gratefully at her, happy for her help, but also glaringly oblivous to the fact that he’s still in the sights of his dark-haired classmate.

“Come on, Carlos, we should head home. By the way, can I tell you how excited I am to have someone to walk home with? Especially since it’s you.”

Carlos ducks his head, hiding a shy smile as he slings his hefty backpack over his shoulder. Two books are still in his hand, and he ignores Evie’s comment (other than the light flush dusting his cheeks, which Evie still notices) in favor of chattering excitedly about his first Poisons and Potions class tomorrow.

His animated talk is the perfect distraction, allowing Evie to guide them quickly away from prying eyes. She hooks a hand under Carlos’ elbow the second she sees Mal and Jay lingering against the lockers. She isn’t sure why they’re still hanging around nearby, but she’s not about to stay and find out.

“-so I know we probably can’t bring materials home, but do you think the teacher might make an exception if I offered to clean up the room for them or something? Because there’s an acid that’s good for cleaning concrete that I could really use. Mother would love-”

Evie’s half listening to Carlos, nodding and humming accordingly so he continues while she’s keeping a watchful eye. She fixes as heated a glare as she can muster when she catches Jay’s eye, feeling mildly satisfied when his eyes widen slightly in surprise.

She lets her glare shift then to Mal, hoping for a smiliar reaction, but is less than surprised when instead the girl’s face scrunches in anger, and a mocking tongue pokes from between her pinkish lips. 

For a second Evie thinks how much fun it would be to just bite at that offensive pink tongue, and to bruise those small, pouty lips with pressure from her own. Mal would be shocked, no doubt, and the painful groans would be music to her ears...

Wait...painfulshrieks. Why is she thinking about Mal’s groans?

Evie shakes her head dismissively, returning her focus to Carlos and his chemistry babbling. She’s having trouble holding onto his elbow as his gestures become more wild and exagerrated. His nose is scrunched and his cheeks are flushed and red from barely taking a breath between sentences. It makes his freckles stand out so much more against the brightening skin. 

He’s so cute, Evie thinks, stealing peeks at him as they walk. With beautiful brown eyes and lips like his, she has no doubt her friend will have at least a few of the kids at Dragon Hall crushing. Hard.

Her thoughts suddenly shift to Jay, and the looks he was giving Carlos. His stares. The creepy closeness. And her breath hitches in her throat.

Maybe she’ll have more to worry about with Jay than she originally thought.

———

“Evie? I appreciate you walking with me, but isn’t your home...right there?”

Carlos points back to the dusty sidewalk Evie had just hurried past. It’s dirty and quiet and isolated like it’s barely even looked at, let alone used. And yet, there’s still a light disturbance in the softly settled dirt that bares an eerie resemblance to Evie’s high-heeled shoes.

Yes, Carlos surmises. Those are definitely her heel prints and that’s most definitely her turn off to get home.

But her fingers are fidgeting and her gaze is scattered. She’s quietly shaking her head No but refusing to look at him at the same time.

“Evie? Is...is something, wrong?”

She finally looks up at him, her bottom lip pulled tight between her teeth. Carlos catches a look of concern before Evie relaxes and flashes a toothy grin. It seems...forced? But Carlos decides not to question it.

“Of course not, Carlos! I’m fine,” she chirps, still smiling at him. “I just want to make sure you make it home ok.”

She covers Carlos’ hand with her own and smiles warmly, and Carlos is practically beaming from the attention. 

He was overjoyed when his mother finally agreed to let him attend school. But he had never imagined that going to Dragon Hall would benefit him even more than just advancing his education. 

But now, he has his first...friend. And it’s already better than he could have hoped for.

“Evie, how do you think I made it home before today?” he teases with a little smirk. “I’ll be ok, I swear. Besides, if your mom’s anything like mine, she’s going to be royally pissed if you’re late. Am I right?”

Evie sighs, casting a troubled glance towards her castle, and Carlos knows his assumption was spot-on. Not that he’s surprised, really. He would have been more shocked to find out Evie had kind, loving parents than the latter.

But to Carlos, that only begs the question why Evie would want to go against her best interest to stay with him.

“Get going,” he urges again, pointing towards her castle. “I want to walk to school with you in the morning, so don’t go getting yourself in trouble, ok? I’m not about to lose a fr- uh, person, I just found over something so trivial.”

Evie cracks a smile, clearly not missing Carlos’ almost slip-up. Evil, hopefully he didn’t already ruin things by flat-out announcing his desperation by using a word only saved for the weakest of islers.

“Ok, I guess you’re right,” Evie chirps, and Carlos breathes a sigh of relief at the smile still bright on her face. “You’ll be careful though, right? Just...watch your back.”

Carlos raises a brow. “Of course. But...what do you think’s going to happen, Evie? I’m like, 50 feet from my front door.”

Evie bites her lip again, letting her eyes scan behind them, over alleyways and their quiet, abandoned path. She pauses for a moment to narrow her gaze on one darkened corner, and Carlos can feel his heart thudding harder in his chest as he examines her movements. But she finally eases her stance and turns back to face him.

“It’s...nothing. Really. It’s just - anything can happen, right? I worry about everything,” she dismisses with a chuckle. “I’ll..um...I’ll see you tomorrow, ok? Do you, want to meet here? At 7? And...walk to school, together?”

Carlos immediately brightens at the idea, Evie matching his wide smile with her own. 

“Yeah. I’d like that.”

Evie presses her smile down, offering a short wave before turning to follow the path towards her castle. Carlos watches for a moment, instinctively checking to make sure she’s safe before heading his own way. But he can’t help noticing her eyes continually darting back to that corner, as if waiting for something...or someone to emerge from the darkness.

Carlos tries to shake off his nerves as he watches Evie’s figure disappear around the mildly crumbling brick of her castle. After a final pause to listen for any sounds of distress, he takes a deep breath and starts the rest of his trek to Hell Hall alone.

At least, he thinks he’s alone.

And the muted silence deludes him into believing that that’s the case...for a while, at least. It’s not until he’s just about to ascend the steps to his front door that a distinct crunch of dry leaves behind him leaves him frozen in his tracks.

“Heh. Shit.”

Carlos spins on his heel, and comes face to face with...Jay? 

“Um..what’s up, short stuff?”

Carlos huffs at his words, his fists clenched as he tries his best to stare down one of the most intimidating boys at his new school. There’s no way he’s about to show fear when Jay’s right in front of his own home.

Wait, why is he at his home?

“W-what do you want?” Carlos presses, keeping his voice as steady as he can. “I-I know my house looks...big, but I don’t have-”

“Is the bitch home?”

Jay takes a slow step forward, and Carlos swallows. He’s barely a foot away now, and it feels so close. He can almost smell the sweat beading on Jay’s brow. He keeps his eyes trained down, with a blurring focus just below Jay’s chin, so as not to concentrate on the smirk he knows he’s giving him right now.

“Y-yeah. And she’ll probably beat my ass, a-and yours too, if I don’t get inside right away. I-I need to make...h-her dinner.”

Shit. That sounded so weak. Carlos dares a peek at Jay’s face, and it surprised to see the smile wiped away, and Jay chewing on his lip. He looks almost...worried.

And he surprises Carlos further by taking a generous step back, his arms raised in surrender.

“Well, wouldn’t want that now, would we?” Jay teases, and Carlos curls a sneer at his mocking tone. “Now, now, calm it down freckles. I’m not gonna get you in trouble, ok?”

Jay drops his hands into his pockets, hunching over to rock on his heels some.

“Doubt those eyes of yours would be so pretty with nasty purple bruises around ‘em. Until next time, then?”

Jay pulls out a hand to issue an awkward salute, quirking a smile as Carlos tilts his head, eyes narrowed and confused.

“Bye bye, Carlos De Vil.”

Jay turns and shuffles slowly down the path, kicking at random pieces of dirt and rocks on the way. He keeps his head down, refusing to look up or even cast a single glance behind him.

But Carlos stands unmoving, still staring at the weird thief with long, dark hair that’s tangling in the dry heat. He’s trying to make sense of what just happened, but all logic that could explain what just happened is lost on him. 

Did Jay just say his eyes were pretty?