#i had a shit birthday so of course my response is to write a fic where i can project my feelings

[zaskiaz]

sneak 👏 peek 👏 friday 👏

haven’t written much this week because i was catching up on stranger things and steddie had me in a chokehold. i’m not a big fan of the series but it’s so refreshing to read new fics in a new fandom, i had missed that feeling (also love how the fandom collectively agreed to ignore the s04 finale, bc it was bullshit, and instead started their own fix-it fanfics, as it should be lol). anyway, here we go c:

top gun | icemav | wip (birthday oneshot)

—

He's zipping up his khakis when the phone rings. Maverick frowns. It's ass o’clock in the morning, and he definitely isn’t expecting anyone to call at this hour. He crosses the distance to the wall where the phone hangs and picks up.

“Mitchell speaking.”

“Uncle Mav!” it’s a whisper-shout, and it lights up every fiber in Maverick’s body.

“Hey, little guy! What are you doing up?”

“It’s your birthday, Uncle Mav! I wanted to be the first to wish you a happy birthday, of course!”

Maverick snorts. “Of course.”

“It’s today, right? Daddy said it was, and Ms Riley helped me mark it in my calendar. Ms Riley is my new teacher, by the way! She’s sub– subti– she’s teaching us while Mrs Sophie is on leave! Did you know she’s having a baby? She said it could be born any day now, that’s why she’s gonna stay home and rest! I was sad at first, because I really like art classes with Mrs Sophie, but I guess Ms Riley is cool too. She helped me make your present, did you know?”

Maverick’s grinning from ear to ear. He fucking loves the kid.

[reidmania]

Hey😁 you said request were open and i was wondering you could write a spencer reid fic where him and the reader get into a petty argument or something and he says something a little mean and has to grovel to the reader because she’s upset? I love your work by the way and you can add or take away whatever you want👍😊

not so funny | spencer reid

summary; after a rough day, Spencer accidentally takes his frustration out on you leading to a lot of guilt and grovelling.

warnings; spencer is mean, fem reader, he calls reader a bitch but he makes up for it, arguments, hurt x comfort, crying, it ends up being pretty cute.

an; ITS MY BIRTHDAY GUYS!!!!

“Come on spencer” You almost groaned as your voice itched with irritation, your hands flew up before dropping by your side. You were stood in the kitchen, trying to make dinner but the pasta on the stove and vegetables half cut on the counter were long forgotten.

Spencer spluttered, “You aren’t listening to me!” He groaned, bringing his hands up to his face dragging them down over his eyes as he turned his body away from you to the side. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes — this entire argument was pointless.

It started all because Spencer had come home after a bad day and was slightly snappy with you, just briefly and when you made a joke about it — he didn’t seem to take it as a joke.

“It was a joke — God” You sigh, turning back to the vegetables you were dicing before he walked in the door after work, but honestly with the annoyance bubbling in your chest you doubted you should be responsible for a knife right now.

His eyes widened, “But it’s not funny! You were just being a bitch” He mutters out, shaking his head before the realisation of his words fell on him the same time they fell on you.

Your entire face fell. Never had Spencer called you anything like that — he had commented repeatedly how much it pissed him off when peoples partners called them names like that. He had never been anything other than gentle with you.

He said your name as his eyes fell on your face. Before he could even open his mouth to apologise you were pushing past him to walk away. His hands reached out to grab ahold of your wrist as he repeated your name but you only flung his arm away from yours and you continued walking to the bedroom.

Spencer stood with his head in his hands as he knew better than to follow you right now. All the anger he had felt from the day that had built up slipped away when he saw the look on your face. — Hurt. He hurt you all because he had a crappy day.

He heard the bedroom door slam shut causing his shoulders to flinch slightly. He wanted nothing more than to follow you and spend the rest of the night apologising to you, he didn’t think there was anything he could do to express how sorry he was.

But he knew better than that. He knew it would just annoy you more if he walked in there right now and that was the last thing he wanted.

Instead he spent the next hour in the kitchen finishing the dinner you had started making — He knew wouldn’t taste nearly half as good as it would if you made it, his cooking skills no where near as good but he found himself doing it anyways.

He relished in the slight distraction but it only did so much as his mind continued travelling to you and the words that had left his mouth. He didn’t mean them. You weren’t a bitch. You were nothing of the sorts and the fact that he had even let that slip sent guilt coursing through his veins.

The day had been nothing but shit. To say the least. Everything was going wrong and Spencer couldn’t shake the annoyance. It didn’t help that right before leaving he had gotten into an argument with Morgan about something on a past case.

He didn’t mean to take his bad day out on you, he never did.

He finished the dinner, but the appetite he once had disappeared as it replaced the spot in his stomach with nothing but guilt. His feet trailed towards the door of your shared bedroom.

Every step was filled with dread as his mind traveled to every possibility. His heart shattered into a thousand little pieces as he heard your soft hiccup through the door.

“Honey?” He brought his hand up to knock on the door gently with his knuckles. His tone was the softest he had used his day — completely the opposite to what it had been the last time he spoke to you.

You didn’t reply but you went quiet. Probably trying to hide the fact you were crying. That made him feel worse — he deserved to feel worse. He knew that.

“Dinner is ready.. Are you hungry” He asked, not pushing his way through the door he was talking to you through. There was a pause on the other side of the door.

You, were curled up on the middle of your bed. Spencer’s hoodie was tugged up over your knees as they pulled to your chest. Your face was blotchy and scarred by the soft tears that stained your cheeks.

You hadn’t been able to shake Spencer’s words no matter how much you tried. You knew he was angry and had a bad day but you couldn’t help but be beyond mad — unfortunately when you are mad it ended in tears.

You wiped the tears from your face as if that would have any effect on the sound of your voice. “No.” You replied, trying to put on the most secure voice you could muster up but it wavered none the less and stayed quiet.

Your heart pounded as you closed in on yourself. “Can I come in?” He asked.

You wanted to say no, push him away and tell him to go fuck yourself, but you couldn’t bring yourself to, a small part of you aching for his comfort no matter how mad you were, you wanted to hear him apologise, even if you failed to believe it.

“Okay.” Your voice was small.

The door was being pushed open gently a moment after and you avoided meeting Spencer’s gaze, keeping your gaze fixated on the plush of the crisp white sheets that covered the bed.

If you did look at him, you would’ve seen his heart break all in his features at the sight of your tear stained face. His feet pattered towards you as he sat down on the edge of the bed, a respectable distance away from you, not wanting to push any boundaries.

“Im sorry” He said quietly, it sounded genuine and it burnt a way into your chest. You never brought your eyes to meet his as your mind failed to comprehend a response. You didn’t have a whole lot to say.

So instead, you just nod.

He frowns. “I am really - Im so sorry.” He said, shifting uncomfortably on the bed, eyes trailing over your face, uncomfortable silence washing over the room as he tried to figure out what to say next. “I had a shit day — which isn’t an excuse. I should’ve never called you that. I shouldn’t have taken my bad day out on you” He muttered.

You nodded curtly. “Okay.” Was all you said in response. There wasn’t a lot you could muster up as despite his apology his words burnt into the back of your mind, leaving a engravememt on your brain.

He frowned deepened. He knew he didn’t deserve your forgiveness and he didn’t expect it. He hurt you and he apologised hated that.

“I love you.” He said softly. Even if you didn’t believe his apology he wanted you to at least believe that he loved you.

You just nodded feeling a lump in your throat as your chest grew impossibly tight. You kept your arms wrapped tightly around your knees, holding them close to your chest almost as if to try and numb the burning sensation that made its way through to your ribcage.

You didn’t answer.

“I’ll leave you a plate in the microwave okay?” He muttered after a moment of silence. The silence dawned heavy and cold. You didn’t bother replying as he stood up.

His gaze lingered on you for a moment before a soft sigh left his lips. “Im really sorry” He apologised again.

You didn’t see him again that night, you assumed he slept on the couch which made you feel slightly bad but you were so.. hurt.

The argument was stupid. He knew that, he knew it was a joke and any other time it wouldn’t have bothered him in the slightest, he hated how the one time it did he took it out on you.

The next day you didn’t see Spencer when you woke up, you assumed he went to work which made a puddle of relief fill your stomach as you realised you were able to self indulge in your feelings while he was away.

You missed him.

The door opened at 7:34, a lot later than when Spencer usually arrived home and for a while you were genuinely considering maybe he wasn’t going to come home.

You turned to face him as he stepped into the kitchen where you were, the same positioning the two of you had been in when the argument first arose.

“Hi.” He said softly, placing his car keys on the counter. You looked over him and guilt fell as you he looked a mess.

He pulled his arm from behind his back, handing you a gorgeous bouquet of flowers. He chewed at his lip nervously as you didn’t say anything but took the flowers from his hand, looking over them.

Your favourites.

“I know flowers aren’t an apology, thats not why I got them” He said quietly, you remembered a conversation you had with him about hating how guys got their girlfriends flowers as an apology — and he agreed, going on to say that guys should be getting flowers constantly.

You perked up slightly as you furrowed your brows in confusion — if not an apology why now.

“The last ones I got you are browning.” He said, reading your look of confusion. Your lips pursed as you looked over at the vase you always kept the flowers Spencer got you in. They were in fact browning.

He dragged his hand through his hair as he placed a grocery bag on the table, before looking back at you. “You aren’t a bitch, you weren’t acting like a bitch, if anything I was.” He said, taking a few things out of the bag.

Your favourite snacks, your favourite drinks and a small velvet box.

Your heart tightened slightly.

He took a step towards you and you stayed in place, pulling your eyes away from the items on the table. “Im really sorry I ever said that. It was stupid and disgusting of me” He hesitantly brought his hand up to your face.

You tensed slightly but didn’t flinch away, allowing him to push strands of hair behind your ear. “You are gorgeous, inside and out. There isn’t a bitchy bone in your body and Im sorry.” He said gently.

“I am so mad at you” You said, the first proper thing you have said to him in days. He knows it shouldn’t but just hearing you talk made his pulse relax slightly — and then speed up all over again.

“Good.” He said gently, “Thats- Its a good thing. You should be mad.” He said softly, “Id never want it to be a situation where you allowed that.. where it happened often enough for you not to be mad. Be mad, mad is good. Don’t be silent” He said as his thumb brushed gently over your cheek.

You hummed. You knew deep down silent treatment was the worst for Spencer, but honestly last night you had nothing to say. “You can yell at me, scream — hit me if you want” His tone was so gentle. You just scoffed, “Im not going to hit you” You said.

He smiled, “I know.”

“You have a lot of making up to do you know.” You pushed out, trying to ignore the way your face instinctively leant into the warmth of his hand, relishing in the soft roughness of his hands.

He nodded, “I’ll do anything, sweet heart.” He said and his tone held nothing but genuine emotion.

“Okay.” You nodded.

“Okay?” He asked.

“Okay.. Spence I just said that” You huffed out. A smile lit his lips, he leant down to place a gentle kiss to the top of your head, you tried to hide the smile on your face.

“Okay.” He repeated making you groan but you were smiling nonetheless.

Spencer spent every second apologising for the next two weeks, buying you everything he saw that he thought you would like and going above and beyond until you physically and verbally said that you forgave him.

[kikyan]

Confession

CW: Yandere content means yandere content y’all, stalking, dub-con/non-con, masturbation, disgusting themes, panty stealer, fingering, oral (receiving), overstimulation, breeding themes(slightly?), creampie, power bottom Idia, slight masochist Idia, kidnapping, shit ass writing, I think that’s all, etc… 

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland 

Character: Idia Shroud x GN! Reader

Word Count: 7.2K words 

A/N: This is a birthday fic for one of my IRL besties, an Idia simp. Another thing, this is a yandere blog so it’s not canon to their personalities at all but more my interpretation of them if THEY were yanderes. So take that as you will! This is with a GN reader so there is no anatomy assigned or pronouns other than they/them (I did proofread it but lmk if there are any errors!)

‘ Click’ 

‘ Click’ 

Yellow eyes darted across from the screens as he was looking at the contents. Classes were over and his homework was completed quicker than he used to have it done. He was still a housewarden with duties and responsibilities after all, besides he needed the rest of the day free to partake in his favorite hobby. Stalking [Reader] of course. He could access several cameras from different angles as he attempted to track them down. 

‘ Where are they? Their class ends around this time and they usually stay a bit longer in the classroom to wait for the freshman and Grim. They’re taking too long. . .shit! Did I miss them? Did they already leave?’ 

Idia frantically typed away at his computer to try to locate them. After a couple of tries, he found [Reader] and Grim, with the freshman of course, walking out of their classroom. Sighing in relief, he continued to observe as normal. Unfortunately, these cameras were limited as they had no audio but it would do for now. 

‘ So they DID stay longer in the classroom. Phew, good thing nothing has changed so far.’ 

The screens were the only source of light in his room as his lights were turned off. He didn’t have any club activities today so he there was no need to leave his room. He sat on his desk chair while holding his knees to his chest. Raising his thumb to his mouth, he bit down on the tip of his nail. How did it come to this? 

~

“We’re going to be late! Crap, where is the housewarden?”

“Doesn’t he have his club? Do you think we can leave it with Ortho?” 

“Uh maybe. . .man why did Professor Trein dump this on us? If only Idia attended in-person classes, but oh well. Oh, wait-[Reader]!” 

[Reader] was walking through the hallways, but turned when they heard their name was called out. There were two students, from the Ignihyde dorm looking stressed. 

“Yes?” 

“Sorry for this, but could you do us a huge favor? Professor Trein asked if we could drop these papers with Houseward Idia, but we can’t find him! Not to mention, we’re already late for our club activities enough as it is! We’ll make it up to you, promise!” 

“Hm, sure I don’t see why not. Not like I have anything better to do, give them here.” 

Sighing in relief, the students wasted no time in handing the documents over to [Reader]. 

“Gosh, you’re a lifesaver! Thank you so much, both Grim and your meal are on us!” 

The students turned and ran off to their club. Leaving [Reader] alone. 

“Grim would appreciate that, it sure saves me money for one day knowing his appetite. Anyways, just where is Idia?”  

[Reader] debated going over to the hall of mirrors and just entering the Ignihyde dorm but they decided against it. It would be too much work if Idia were still on the main campus grounds and they were in their dorm. Was Idia even in a club? If he was, it would be worth it to check some classrooms in case he was. Thinking back on it, it wouldn’t seem likely but it didn’t hurt to check. [Reader] had been walking for about 20 minutes, popping inside classrooms just to survey the area. To no avail, Idia was not in the classroom. 

“Just where could he be? Maybe I should head over to his dorm. Oh, hey Azul!” 

Azul was walking on the opposite side and [Reader] ran up to meet him. 

“Ah, [Reader]. What a coincidence, I would have figured you had returned to your dorm by now.” 

“Normally I would have, but I’m helping some classmates drop off some documents. Hey, this may be a stretch but by any chance, do you know where Idia might be?” 

“ Idia? Oh why, yes I do. He’s still in the classroom. We just finished up our game board club meeting. He lost to me so he’s staying back to finish cleaning up. Why?” 

“He’s the one I’m dropping the documents off to. So, where is the club room?” 

“ Down the hall, turn right and it’s the second door on your left.” 

“ Thank you, Azul! I’ll see you around, kay?” 

“Of course. If you however require my services sooner, you know where to find me.” 

“Nice try, but at the moment I’m not interested in making a deal right now.  Maybe later if I forget to study for an exam.” 

“But of course, take care.” 

Azul left back to his dorm, leaving [Reader] to seek out his directions to the club room. When they arrived, they opened the door to see Idia sitting at the desk on his phone. 

“Oh hey, Idia-” 

Idia jumped in his desk, whipping his head around to stare at [Reader] in a frazzled state. 

“W-what a-are you doing h-here!?” 

“Calm down Idia, not here to hurt you. Anyways, someone asked me to drop off these papers to you. One of your housemates. Anyways, what are you doing?” 

“You c-can leave them on the t-table.” 

Idia’s eyes avoided [Reader’s] and he ignored their question. [Reader] walked closer, leaving the documents on the table as asked. They turned to look at his screen, looking at all the graphics displayed on the screen. 

“That looks interesting, what’s this about?” 

“It’s a game. . .” 

“Right, I can see that. What is it about?” 

Idia continued to advert his gaze, muttering under his breath under the assumption that [Reader] could not hear him. 

“Like you would care. . .” 

“I would actually.” 

A snarky and slightly offended response left [Readers] unamused face. Idia let out a squeak, he didn’t think [Reader] would hear that. [Reader] let out a huff, pulling a chair out and sitting across from Idia. 

“Idia, you know I’m not from here right? I don’t know much about media and franchises here in Twisted Wonderland, but I was interested in content like this back in my world. So humor me, what is this game about?” 

Though he was still unable to look them in the eye, not that [Reader] minded, he continued to explain the game franchise. 

“It’s an adventure-based role-playing game following an adventure party on a mission to take down the demon king. The party consists of characters that you get to pick, unlike most games where you’re given a party member. This game is different because it relies on your choices to advance as well as you making your combat type distinct. It has an online server where you can complete side quests while the main story updates.” 

He spoke fast, never sparing a glance at [Reader]. He was just waiting for them to become uninterested or to look at him in annoyance. He was waiting for the insults and the questionable glances of ‘you’re weird’ and ‘fucking loser’. 

“Hm, so it’s a fantasy-based combat game. Does this mean that all the party members are different fantasy races? I’d like to see the party members that you can pick, or do you get to customize them as well?” 

“ O-oh u-uh. . .” 

Idia has always seen the negative side of everything, but being realistic he didn’t give you enough credit. Sure, most people stop listening after that initial description but a few brave soldiers still stick around until he continues. He’d surely lose your interest with his extensive knowledge of the game's lore. 

“Well, not exactly. You can make your character, but the other party members are already designed and have a story to go with them. All you do is equip weapons and artifacts to strengthen them.” 

“Oh, I love customizable characters. Can I see yours?” 

Alright, so you’re one of those few brave soldiers who may be interested in a nerdy ramble. Idia began to click and swipe at his screen, eventually passing it to [Reader]. [Reader] began to inspect the character, looking at all the features that Idia placed on them. 

“Woah, they look badass. I like your character’s style, but it looks like they aren’t human-like. Are they fantasy-based characters? What kind?” 

Idia couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment it happened, but his face softened and went from stoic to a more relaxed one. His eyes began to shine with passion as he began to talk about his character, gaining [Reader’s] undivided attention. [Reader] nodded and paid attention when he spoke, asking questions about the game’s lore and characters. Idia answered all their questions with a more enthusiastic chirp, throwing some jokes here and there. The atmosphere changed from tense to a more comforting one as they continued to speak losing track of time. 

“. . .but you don’t meet this fantasy race until act III in the game, even then they’re an antagonistic species until you clear the next three acts, that’s when it clears up. Eventually, you can add this character to your party or can update the way your character looks after-” 

The sound of the classroom door opening snapped Idia from his daze, and he turned to look at the door. 

“Idia, here you are!” 

“Ortho. . what are you doing here?” 

“Idia, it’s been three hours since you were supposed to be back. I came to see where you were. Don’t you remember, the new update for the game was dropping later tonight?” 

“Three hours. . .?” 

[Reader] and Idia panicked, both scrambling up from their chairs, 

“ Oh my gosh, I had no idea time went by so fast. I need to get home and do my homework!” 

“I forgot about my game! S-sorry, I probably bugged you with my spiel-” 

“Not at all, Idia! Honestly, this game sounds cool I might check it out. Well, I wish I could considering I don’t have a platform to play it. Crowley is very stingy with what he gives out. I don’t even have a phone to use, or else I would have asked for your contact info. I’ll catch you later, hopefully maybe one of these days I can see you in class. Take care, Ortho!” 

[Reader] patted Ortho’s shoulder before leaving the classroom. Ortho nodded enthusiastically, wishing [Reader] the same. He turned around to where Idia was standing. Idia was quiet, his eyes wide, and on his face was a dopey grin. His cheeks were lightly flushed, adding color to his pale skin. 

“ Iida? What’s wrong?” 

“Ortho, I’m going to class tomorrow.” 

~~ 

It had been roughly two months since that encounter. Idia never expected it to get this bad. They kept their promise, and [Reader] continued to talk to him even if it was after class and in private. He knows they didn’t mean anything bad by it, but he loved the idea of being their little secret. Held occasional yet school-related conversations in public, but the moment the class ended [Reader] and he would talk for hours. Sometimes, they would come over to the Ignihyde dorm to play games with him or indulge in certain content and media. Ortho was very excited, not only was he able to see his brother form a friendship with someone so close instead of online, but he could also see his brother having a slightly more positive outlook on life. However, he remained haunted by the grim reminder that he would be head of the S.T.Y.X organization and wouldn’t be able to enjoy the luxuries he was experiencing now. Despite all that, he was smiling a lot softer and looking forward to the next meeting. So in other words, everything was content and alright. There was no need for him to hijack the cameras to stalk [Reader], but he did it anyway. 

“Well, no matter. What’s done is done. Now I need to make sure they get home safely.” 

Idia softly smiled at the cameras, looking at [Reader] talking to Grim. They had a smile on their face as well, no doubt teasing the poor kitty. 

‘ They’re so pretty. . .hopefully they like my surprise.’ 

[Reader] was walking with the freshman to the Ramshackle dorm. They were going to drop off some stuff before heading out to the hall of mirrors. As they arrived at the entrance, they were greeted by a ghost. 

“Good afternoon, [Reader] and Grim! How were your classes?” 

“ Afternoon! Nothing too busy, but we just got assigned a major project.” 

“Man talk about annoying, Riddle kept reminding us how important this project was for the freshman.” 

Ace complained with Deuce sharing a similar face of dismay, clearly stressed about the project itself. 

“Vil was the same, he said that I could not afford to get a low score and tarnish Pomefiore’s reputation. This must be a pretty serious project.” 

Jack rubbed the back of his head, “Leona hasn’t mentioned anything yet. If all your housewardens are saying something no doubt when I get back to Savannaclaw he might mention it.” 

“If the project must be this serious, then I cannot score anything but the highest marks! The pride of Diasomnia, no. . .the pride of Malleus-Sama rests on my shoulders!” 

“Cool, anyways. . .” 

The rest of the group disregarded what Sebek was spouting about. The ghost chuckled, before leaving to the living room and returning with a package in hand. 

“Someone came by to drop this off. We don’t know what it is or from whom. There was no name on the package.” 

“Oh, for us?” 

“Seems like it.” 

Curiosity spread among them as they were all devising in their heads what it could be. 

“You don’t think it’s a. . .no it couldn’t be!” 

“But it might be. . .” 

“It might be a what?” 

Grim turned to Ace and Epel who shared mischievous smiles, “Oh you know. . .” 

“Pay them no mind, Grim. They’re just trying to scare you.” 

Deuce waved the two off and reassured Grim that it was all right. [Reader] examined the box, shaking it a little. It felt heavy, but there was no sound with the shake. It might either take up the whole box or it might be very secure. They walked inside their dorm with the others following suit. They sat on the couch and proceeded to open the package. Ripping open the box, they turned to see that it was a new phone. 

“A phone. . .?” 

“ WOAH! NOT JUST A NEW PHONE, IT’S THE LATEST MODEL!” 

Everyone exclaimed, eyes wide as saucers. 

“It is. . .?” 

“Hm, you don’t suppose Crowley got it for us do you?” 

Grim turned to look at [Reader] who scoffed at the idea, 

“Hell no, since when has that man cared for us?” 

“Fair enough, but who do you think it was from?” 

“ Not sure. .  .” 

“ Well whoever it was, they must be loaded!” 

Ace pointed out, [Reader] looking up at him. 

“Surely it can’t be that much...  could it?” 

“It’s over 200,000 Thaumarks!” 

“THAT MUCH!?” 

Grim and [Reader] turned to each other in shock. There was no way Crowley would cough up that much money for them, surely this was a mistake. 

“ Do you think they maybe got the wrong address?” 

“Nope! The postman that delivered it said the package was addressed to a [Reader].” 

“So who could be this generous patronage?” 

“Who knows, but whoever it is. You better take care of that as your life depended on it!” 

“ Got it, maybe I can ask Idia how to set it up. Surely it can’t be too different than the models back in my world, but if it is that much I can’t risk it. Alright, let us go now.” 

“ Do you guys want to go to Monstro Lounge to eat and talk about the project?” 

Sharing nods, everyone set off to Monstro Lounge. Idia was observing through the cameras, looking to see everyone entering the Octavinelle dorm. The moment he saw [Reader] enter, he stood up and made plans to leave his dorm. He closed off all the cameras and locked his room to be safe. He turned to the door, preparing to enact his plan. He left the Ignihyde dorm, turning to the path to the Ramshackle dorm. He walked at a brisk pace. It was the perfect time, no one was near or around to see him. Upon arriving at the dorm, he turned to peek inside the windows. Luckily, the ghosts that were occupying the house didn’t seem to be near. He pulled out a key and swiftly unlocked the door. He remembered one time when he swiped their keys and made a copy of them. Casually returning them to [Reader]. He climbed up the stairs and entered their room. Looking around, he could see a very plain room. Nothing too out of the ordinary but he didn’t mind, he knew that [Reader] was hardly getting any funds from Crowley. That was why he gave them the phone, something to be able to reach them faster. Though the room was plain, there was something that did manage to catch his eye. [Reader’s] used clothing hamper. His breath hitched, slowly and carefully making his way to it. Fear that the slight movement could alert someone, even though he was alone(or was he?). Once he made it across, he peered inside. Just normal clothing, sleeping garments, and so forth. The one thing that did make him turn red, was the sight of [Reader’s] used undergarments. 

His throat was dry as he debated reaching in and taking. What would they think of him? Would [Reader] look at him in disgust? Here he was, a pervert thinking about taking the used underwear of the one he loved. Who knows what he was going to do with them? Idia shook his head, reaching in swiftly and swiping the used underwear. He shakily raised them to his face, placing the crotch area close to his nose. He inhaled deeply, [Reader’s] scent quickly invading his mind. His pants began to feel tight and his dick was hard. He was lost in a trance until he heard a voice come from the living room. 

“I wonder who could have gifted the phone to [Reader]. Do you think they have a secret admirer?” 

Idia’s eyes widened as his body temperature rose. He was horrified, beyond terrified. Tears began to well, he was going to be caught! Idia quietly scrambled to the hallway but skillfully remained undetected as he peered over the stair railway. All the ghosts were in the living room, but they weren’t near the front door. If he played his cards right, he could make it out of the dorm without bringing too much attention to himself. Idia began to walk down the stairs, luckily the ghosts were too into their conversation to hear the creaky stairs. Idia shoved the used garment into the pocket of his jacket. 

“ If they had a secret admirer, do you think it might be that fae boy who sometimes comes here at night?” 

‘The WHAT!?’ Idia internally screamed. Fae. . did he mean Sebek? Sebek knows better than to appear at night, so was it the devilish third-year Lilia Vanrogue? Sure he was an eccentric one, but even he would have morals. Idia was close to the front of the door.  Idia was so into his thoughts, that he failed to notice the ghost that was standing near the gate. The ghost turned around, with a surprised look asked, 

“Are you here for [Reader]?” 

Idia let out a squeak, holding both his arms in a defensive stance. The ghost noticed this and quickly assured him that he did not mean any harm or to spook him. 

“Didn’t mean to scare you, but [Reader] isn’t here right now. They’re at the Monstro Lounge working on a project with some peers.” 

“O-oh. . .I see. . .” 

Idia knew they weren’t here, but couldn’t raise any suspicion. The other ghosts soon came to the front door, staring at Idia. 

“Oh, what’s this? Are you a friend of [Reader]?” 

“I-I u-uh. . .d-did [Reader] get the package?” 

“ The package? Oh! Are you their secret admirer?” 

Way to go Iida, he was digging a deeper hole for himself. 

“A-a friend of mine a-asked me to make sure they got it. . .” 

His gaze was adverted to the side and his fingers were twiddling. 

“They did it! By any chance, can we know the name of your friend? Tell us, do they like [Reader]?” 

“ Y-yeah s-something like that. T-they’re a little shy so. . .well then, that’s good. U-uh, I’m going to leave n-now. . .” 

“ Take care, be safe walking back to your dorm!” 

The ghosts all wished him safe travels. Idia nodded and began to walk slowly, once he was away from the ghost’s sight of vision he scrambled back to his dorm. 

“You don’t think he was. . .?” 

“Maybe, but wait. . . isn’t he the one [Reader] likes?” 

~

Idia managed to make it to his dorm without being spotted. He entered his room and locked the door. Once he caught his breath, he made it to his bed and plopped down. He was tired, hopefully, the ghosts didn’t say anything. He closed his eyes and remained still for a brief moment before he turned, feeling the fabric of his pants rub against his hard-on. 

‘Oh’

His cheeks reddened and his hair changed from a blue to a purple shade, close to pink. He reached into his pocket, taking out the used underwear. His other hand went to his pants, slowly freeing his hard cock. His breath hitched, he placed the used underwear up against his nose and inhaled deeply. His eyes rolled back at [Reader’s] scent and his free hand went to his dick, wrapping around it. Pre was already forming at the tip, he rubbed his cock up and down slowly, starting a soft pace. 

“Fuck. . .” 

His lidded and glossy eyes stared on, he slowly opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out. He gave a long striped lick, tasting whatever remained on the underwear. Whatever little control he had broke, he began to gradually fist his cock as he inhaled and exhaled. He was constantly giving licks as well, his body was moving on his own. He rolled over and entangled his legs with his bedsheets. He let the underwear fall on the pillow and dove nose-first into it. With his right hand, he began to grip the sheets. He rutted into his fist. His mind wandered to [Reader], how would they feel. If they saw him right now, what would they say? Would they call him a disgusting pervert? How dare he get off on your used underwear. How pathetic he is, rutting into his hand thrusting into his bed trying to find the right pace and friction to get off. Fucking pathetic, look at this loser jerking off to the idea of even being able to touch you. 

“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-oh fuck-!” 

He imagined if [Reader] was into it as well. Would they step on his disgusting dick? Would they tease him, call him all kinds of names? Would they make him fuck himself before he even had the chance to fuck them? Idia was thankful for his pillow, other than being able to rest the used underwear so that he could smell and taste as much as he wanted. He was also able to hide his pathetic moans and whines. He was drooling, eyes rolling back and tears welling up. 

“Fuckfuckfuck, I’m gonna-shit I’m gonna come-” 

How their warm insides would feel. How their hole would clamp and clench around his dirty and pathetic cock. Imagine how it would feel to relentlessly fuck them. 

“W-wanna touch them, w-wanna fuck y-you, [R-reader]!? W-wanna c-come i-inside you-ha fuck!?” 

Would they let them come inside? How it would feel, leaving his warm thick sticky cum inside them. When he’d pull out he’d see the thick glob that left their used and abused hole that was stretched out just for him. 

“C-Cumming!??” 

Idia’s eyes rolled back as his back arched, his right hand gripping the sheets and his knuckles turning white, blowing his load into his hands. His cum shoots out to stain his bedsheets. His cum was warmer than average, how would they feel? Would they feel warm and satisfied? Sweat was coating his skin and he struggled to catch his breath. His left hand released his now limp dick and his right let go of the bedsheets. He lifted his body, getting on his knees and he looked at the pillow and [Reader]’s now soiled underwear. 

“I l-love you so much. . .[Reader].” 

~ 

[Reader] kept true to their word and turned to Idia for help setting up their phone. 

“Oh, okay so I do this right?” 

“You’re no better than a noob finally learning how to use a handheld console.” 

[Reader] sent Idia an unamused look, but let out a laugh. Idia smiled, but changed his face the moment [Reader] turned to look up again at him. 

“It’s standard, it’s similar to most models back in my world though some features are completely new. Hey Idia, can I ask you a question? Is this really the latest model and  worth 200,000 thurmarks?” 

“It’s the latest model and now it’s super rare. Those who preordered one when the sale dropped months ago were 100% guaranteed one with a small percentage that they would be sold in stores. They only released a few in-store ones so if you didn’t get one then, it’ll be months before you get one.” 

“Woah, so it’s that special? Ace was telling me all the new stuff it was supposed to have but I just nodded and went with it.” 

“Here.” 

Idia handed [Reader] their new phone back, stuck on the contact screen. The contact read his name, ‘Idia Shroud’, with his phone number saved on it. 

“So now you can reach me. M-maybe play the game now. . .”

“Thank you Idia, I was going to ask you about that too by the way. Do you mind if I lie on your bed?” 

“Hm, no I don’t-WAIT YES I DO!” 

Idia’s scream rang through his room. [Reader]’s eyes widened as they backed away from his bed. 

“S-sorry, my bed is. . .messy.” 

“Oh, I really don’t mind but if you do that’s fine. I can just sit here unless you don’t want me to?” 

“N-no no, there is fine.” 

Idia calmed down, scooting over to [Reader] to explain how to download the game and how to set it up. 

It was like that, consistently for another two months. Idia wasn’t sure what to do, he had planned on confessing but how. Every time he thought it was the right time, someone just had to take [Reader’s] attention or ruin it for him. They could never understand them the way he did. After months of observing [Reader], playing games with them, and sharing deep meaningful conversations, Idia was the only one who could understand them. That’s what he believed, so why was it so hard to be able to confess them? No one was able to understand them to the capacity that Idia could and certainly, no one was worthy of them. Granted Idia himself didn’t feel worthy, but if he was the worm crawling underneath their shoe the other’s were the smears on the concrete. Idia huffed in annoyance, he was typing along to his online friend, Muscle Red. 

Gloomurai: Can I vent to you about something happening IRL

Muscle Red: Of course, what’s wrong? 

Gloomurai: How do you confess to someone you like? 

Muscle Red: Oh, relationship issues? 

Lilia scratched his head, geez. This was an awkward situation, it’s been a while since Lilia courted someone. He wasn’t sure how to proceed with the conversation but he was young once so it couldn’t be too hard.

Gloomurai: Not really considering there is no relationship yet, it’s more like I like someone but can’t bring myself to confess to them. 

Gloomurai: When I want to, something always happens like the universe doesn’t want us to be together. 

Muscle Red: I don’t think that's the case. I think you may need to set up a scenario where you are completely alone to confess, so you don’t have any interruptions.

Lilia winced a little when he read that back, it didn’t sound okay at first. Hopefully, Gloomurai doesn’t look too into it. 

Gloomurai: It’s a little hard, they’re quite social. Almost everyone wants to talk to them. 

Muscle Red: I’m sure if you asked to speak to them about a personal matter, they might set time aside to hear you out. Maybe that is when you confess? 

Gloomurai: I’d probably stutter over my words to get it out, they’re just too cool. . .

Muscle Red: How did you meet them? Is this a close friend or? 

Gloomurai: You could say that. They like the same stuff I like, we became friends with mutual interests. 

Lilia let out a breath of relief. Unlike back then where you either knew the person from growing up together or being interested in them because of one interaction, common interests bonded people. So this should be easy. 

Muscle Red: Hm, so then they probably know you and will feel more comfortable being near a familiar face. When trying to court someone you may want to start with a small gesture of kindness and trying to find time alone to be able to confess to them. That was how most of the time it worked then, but since this is a close friend they might already be able to pick up signs. [MESSAGE UNABLE TO SEND. TRY AGAIN.] 

Muscle Red: You may have to be bold. Do something that they might never expect from you. Try to get them to see you in a different light than just a friend. If you’re able to do that then surely you can win them over, who knows maybe they’ll fall for you just as much. 

Muscle Red: Do something that still falls within their comfort level to show that you still care and know certain things about them. I think once you’re able to show them how you care for them but also make them see you, I think that helps a lot. They already like spending time with you and enjoy common interests, so really, it shouldn’t be too hard. [MESSAFE UNABLE TO SEND. TRY AGAIN.] 

Gloomurai: So try something bold, something that makes them notice my feelings for them? 

Muscle Red: Exactly. 

Gloomurai: Hm, thank you. I think I know what I should do. Thank you for this, really :)). Thank you for helping me defeat the boss too lol. C U!

Muscle Red: see you! 

Gloomurai left the chat. 

Muscle Red left the chat. 

Lilia looked to the bottom right screen on his PC, looking at the symbol representing the internet. 

“My, of all times it seems that the internet went out. Hopefully, they were able to read my messages and understand what I was trying to say. Oh well, they seemed to understand so hopefully it helps. Ah, young love certainly never fails to move my heart. Now, onto the internet.” 

And so, that is where we find ourselves now. Idia was pacing around his room, biting his nails and muttering to himself. 

‘Shitshitshitshitshitshit, what do I do? What do I do, what do I do, what do I do?’ 

[Reader] was sleeping soundly, snuggling into the bed. Clearly, this wasn’t their room and if they were to wake up, surely they would panic. The last thing [Reader] remembered was resting peacefully in their bed with Grim cuddling next to them. 

“I did use a pretty strong spell, hopefully, they wake up soon. . .” 

Idia peered over to see [Reader] they were still unmoving. He nervously made his way to them, getting on his bed and slowly crawling to them. The bed sank with his added weight, but nonetheless, they did not waver. He eyed their body, their features. Their chest was slowly rising with their steady breathing. Idia swallowed hard, his fearful expression didn’t leave his face either while he shakily extended his hand to touch [Reader]. His hand grazed their skin and his cold fingers met their warm skin. Tracing his finger from this shoulder to their forearm, touching their forehead and caressing their cheeks. He stopped breathing, afraid that it would ruin this soft moment for him. His eyes trailed down, to their chest. He removed his fingers from their cheeks and instead began to trail from their collarbone to their chest. With deep breaths and a flushed face, he started going lower. From their chest to their stomach, to their hips, and eventually, their crotch. 

“You’re so pretty. . .wanna see you more. . .” 

Idia lightly rubbed at their crotch, lazily stroking up and down. He didn’t intend to do anything and he certainly didn’t expect to hit any major pleasure zones. Idia continued to touch, not really doing much. He wondered if they were awake, what would they do if they saw him like this? Surely they would scream, be disgusted, and threaten to hurt him. 

‘Be bold’ 

Idia nervously looked over to [Reader]with their eyes still shut. He looked over at their legs, placing his hands in the middle and prying them open. His head peeked up again, no movement. He got on his knees at the foot of his bed, dragging [Reader’s] legs down too. Idia placed his hand on their bottoms, dragging them agonizingly slow. He managed to take them off without stirring them and he left them in just their undergarments. Idia began to drool at the sight but he knew the surprise was waiting underneath the undergarments. Reaching above, he pulled them down swiftly and looked. [Reader’s] sex was exposed and visibly aroused. His cold fingers went to touch their most sensitive bit, lightly tapping it. Trailing their finger up and down, they noticed their hole clenching around nothing. 

“What I would give for you to think of me touching you in your dreams.” 

Idia shakily moved his face to their sex, giving it an experimental lick. Trailing to their hole, licking around the area. He removed himself and began to such on his fingers, once they were coated with his saliva he moved them to their hole. Inserting his middle finger inside. Idia let out a soft squeal when he felt their hole clench around his finger. 

“F-Fuck. . .y-you’re so tight. . .” 

Inserting his finger in and out, creating a soft pace and causing enough lubrication to insert another finger. Idia let out a small chuckle, 

“It’s like you’re greedy hole is devouring me. . .I wonder what you’re dreaming about, [Reader].” 

As Idia continued fingering [Reader], they turned to their sensitive bits and began to lick up and down, pressing light kisses on them. He continued to do this for a bit, lightly teasing them and pumping his fingers inside them. He began to suck and that’s when he noticed it, their body twitched. Thinking it was from pleasure, he continued to tease and explore their body. Their sensitive bits were being toyed with, sucked, licked, pinched, and stroked while he fucked his fingers into them. He didn’t notice the noises they were making as they were stirring, but his heart dropped when he felt his hands wander into his hair. 

“[REA-]!?” 

“D-don’t stop. . .p-please Idia. .m’feels good.” 

He had to be dreaming! There was no way this could be real, but he didn't care. If it was a dream, then what a lovely dream it was. He nodded and returned to abuse their sex. 

“F-fuck, right there-!” 

Idia was overheating, he was eating them out with such intensity. Drool covers their sex and mixes with their juices. His fingers continued their assault, stretching them out in a scissoring motion while also reaching even areas they couldn’t with their fingers. 

“M’ feels g-good, f-fuck g-gonna cum Idia-!” 

[Reader] was coming undone, the feeling of Idia’s long tongue playing with their sex, sucking and kissing along with his fingers was a pleasure overload. When Idia’s fingers reached that soft and spongey spot inside them, curling his fingers to hit, they came. Grabbing his hair and pushing his face against their sex and bucking their hips, riding out their orgasm as they came on his face. 

“C-Coming!” 

Once they came down from their high, they released his hair. [Reader] raised their forearm to cover their eyes as they worked to catch their breath. Idia got up from the floor and got on the bed, crawling to them. 

“[R-reader]. . .I-I-I-?!” 

[Reader] removed their forearm, looking at him with glossy eyes. Idia could only gaze upon them with such love. Their body was covered in sweat, their skin was warm to the touch and their post-orgasmic face was divine. [Reader] propped themselves on their elbows, struggling to sit up on the bed. When they managed to, they turned to look at him with a dazed-out expression. 

“Idia. . .wanna make you feel good too. . .can I?” 

[Reader] asked in a slightly whiny voice that made Idia’s rock-hard cock strain against his bottoms. His breath hitched, 

“E-EH? I-I N-NO Y-YOU DON’T M-MEA-EEP!” 

Idia shrieked when [Reader] pushed him down on his bed, straddling his hips and rubbing their exposed sex on his clothed crotch. [Reader] raised their arms to remove their shirt, turning to remove his bottoms. [Reader] was able to pull down his bottoms and remove his boxer, exposing his dick. Idia’s hair turned into a pinkish hue with the rest of his skin burning up. He was embarrassed that his crush who he went down on, got to see him in a similar position. [Reader’s] hands were warm to the touch and they began stroking and rubbing his cock, jerking him off. Idia threw his head back, moaning uncontrollably and gasping as he felt their fingers play with his tip, rubbing it back and forth. Their free hand began to fondle his balls, creating a feeling of immense pleasure. Tears began to form and Idia looked at [Reader] with a face that was begging for mercy but at the same time, more. 

“O-Of fuck! F-feels so fucking good! H-having my disgusting cock t-touched by you, [Reader]! F-fuck me, please I want it s-so badly!” 

Before Idia could come, [Reader] let go of their dick. They went to their sex, rubbing their hole and inserting their finger, making sure they were stretched well. They leveled themselves to Idia’s cock and began to lower themselves down. Idia closed his eyes at the feeling of their hole clenching down hard on his dick. [Reader] was struggling themselves too, Idia managed to stretch them out pretty well. After a while, [Reader] began to move, slowly creating a slow pace while riding Idia, Their hands went underneath his shirt and to his nipples, playing with them. Their fingers caught them and began to pinch them. 

“Fuck! H-ha…f-fuck, so tight!” 

“Y-you’re so big, Idia. Feels so f-fucking good!” 

Rolling their hips to meet Idia’s small thrusts to reach that deeper part within their insides. Idia’s hands went to grab and hold their hips, keeping them steady. Idia’s left hand went to touch their sex, rubbing and stroking to make them catch their high. Both their bodies were covered in sweat and their moans echoed throughout the room. [Reader’s] movements were getting sloppy, the feeling of their climax was right around the edge. Idia could feel it too, he wasn’t going to last long but he wanted to. He didn't;’t want this moment to end. 

“I-Idia, hm feel’s so good, feel so full! W-wanna c=come. .-ha!” 

“F-Fuck [Reader]! C-Come, please c-come!” 

Relief was granted when Idia thrust one last time, spilling his seed inside them. [Reader] threw their head back and ended up cumming all over Iida. The room smelled of sweat and sex. Idia and [Reader] were both trying to catch their breath, until Idia began to thrust again. 

“W-wait I-idia! I can’t, it’s t-too much! S-still sensitive-!!” 

[Reader] placed their hands on his stomach, steadying themselves and that’s when they saw it. Idia’s glossy eyes, tears staining his face but his face was red. He looked like he was ready to cry again from the overstimulation. 

“P-please, w-want more of you. W-want to feel you-!” 

Idia began to relentlessly thrust upwards, hitting their deepest spots and continuing to play with their sex. It continued for a while until Idia had his fill, pushing [Reader] until they were no longer able to form coherent words just mindless babbles of their pleasure spilling out. Idia finally finished and managed to release inside them. He let [Reader] lie on the bed to rest, but never pulled out of them. They stayed connected even when Idia was no longer hard. [Reader] looked over at Idia who was avoiding their gaze. [Reader] smiled, breathing out before speaking, 

“I love you, Idia.” 

“H-HUH!? N-no, surely you’re just pulling my leg-” 

“Idia, we just fucked. I’m not pulling anything, you think I don’t know that you were stalking me?” 

Idia let out a whine, diving headfirst into their chest to hide his embarrassment. Wrapping his arms around their waist, pulling him closer to them. 

“I know you’ve been stalking me around. I also know you were the one who got me the phone, the ghosts told me you stopped by my house.” 

Idia peeled himself away enough to look up at [Reader] who looked at him with adoring eyes. 

“ You probably hate me, you must think I’m disgusting aren’t I.” 

“I don’t hate you, but I do think you’re pretty disgusting. I don't mind, I like how disgusting you are about me.” 

Idia gazed into their eyes before shying away, continuing to shove his face in their chest. His pink hair was a dead giveaway that he was completely enamored and not okay with that response. 

“ Oh, and I also know you jerked off to my used underwear.” 

A sob left Idia’s lip. 

Bonus: 

Muscle Red: Hello, it's been a while. So, how did it go with the one you wanted to confess to?” 

Gloomurai: Hello. It went well, I went bold as you said. I kidnapped them and I guess they were into that lol. Thank you for your advice. Now, do you want to do that quest? 

Gloomurai: Muscle Red? [MESSAGE COULD NOT BE SENT. USER MUSCLE RED IS NO LONGER AVAILABLE] 

Gloomurai: Muscle Red? :(( [MESSAGE COULD NOT BE SENT. USER MUSCLE RED IS NO LONGER AVAILABLE] 

A/N: I have no words because I lowkey hate the writing because I split it up into several days of work so it’s not only consistent but I think I cannot write smut to save my life as well I used to and well yeah. Happy birthday IRL bestie. 

[spookykoolkat]

╰•★★ ᴊᴏʟɪᴇ'ꜱ ᴍᴀɪɴ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ★★•╯

hello and welcome to my main masterlist that compiles all of my written work EVER!

⇢ first i'd like to introduce myself!

i'd prefer if people would call me jolie, it doesn't matter!

i'm nineteen years old :p goth metalhead :3

and i ONLY write for fat, plus sized people, ii write stories that i would read myself, as a plus sized woman, and i hope everyone enjoys it! if not, i'm sorry that it does not cater to thinner people but i need my plus size representation 🖤

AND AS ALWAYS, its FREE FREE PALESTINE!

⇢ now to get into my written work <3

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! - all of my writing is STRICTLY 18+ ONLY! anyone under 18 and without an age in your bio will be blocked! you are responsible for the content you consume!

all of these written works will or are consisted of dark themes, adult content, adult themes, violence, romance, SMUT, and varying emotions/tones. all written work done by me is not allowed to be shared, published or claimed as their own!

⁂ - smut, 18+ only, mature themes

⁑ - angst, intimacy, light smut

🎃 - kinktober [INCOMPLETE]

joel miller fics will not be continued at the moment.

OKAY finally, here are my stories written by MEEE :p

╰┈➤ ❝ 𝐤𝐢��𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 '𝟐𝟑 ❞

kinktober masterlist

╰┈➤ ❝ 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 ❞

you're just so sweet ⁂

✰ coming back into town for your mother's birthday wasn't difficult. it was figuring out how to be around their long time friend, eddie, without feeling that familiar throb between your legs.

you're just so sweet | 2 ⁂

✰ of course he wouldn't speak to you. he was a much older man, and you were just a naïve little girl who pushed her luck. didn't you listen to every song about daddy issues ever?

always mine, forever ⁂

✰ having your friend group spend the night at your place to watch movies was supposed to be fun! so why was your heart racing at the thought of eddie being merely feet away while you slept in your bed?

your brother's rocker friend ⁂ request

✰ dustin was always a little shit, but he was YOUR little shit. along with your nerdy brother, came along his not so nerdy, older friends. one in particular that drooled over everything you did.

the cabin in the woods ⁂ request

✰ robin's new friend caught some attention from her friends, but eddie couldn't find it in himself to make a move on you. of course robin's hot friend had to be lesbian. or so he thought.

toxic ⁂ 🎃

✰ to your dismay, you and eddie could never find the sense to leave each other alone.

taped ⁂ 🎃

✰ eddie needed a way to keep you with him forever, what's a better way than to document it on camera?

looking for a good time? ⁂ 🎃

✰ eddie was always up for trying new things. he just didn't think someone who he couldn't even see would make him feel the way he did.

trick or treat ⁂ 🎃

sorry about your boyfriend ⁂ 🎃

lucifer, my love ⁂ 🎃

╰┈➤ blurbs

after work *

tattoo shop *

more coming soon

╰┈➤ ❝ 𝐣𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 ❞

the red - series masterlist

updates halted indefinitely

「 chapter one 「 chapter two 「 chapter three 「 chapter four*

「 chapter five* 「 chapter six* 「 chapter seven* 「 chapter eight*

「 chapter nine 「 chapter ten

[oneofstarkskids]

this has to be perfect!

fluffy birthday fic

*not my gif*

bucky didn't like to celebrate his birthday. all those years in and out of cryo, he just felt like it didn't mean much anymore. besides, he didn't need some crazy celebration. all he wanted was you.

but that didn't stop you from planning a surprise party. sam was in on it too of course. "do i get to do the message on the cake?" he asked a little too enthusiastically.

"absolutely not," you gave him a stern look. "but it'd be a big help if you put the helium in those balloons." you waved towards the big helium tank. sam smirked and got to work immediately.

it was a full proof plan. all you had to do was make sure bucky didn't suspect a thing.

bucky had received a text the night before as the two of you were lying on the couch. "steve wants to go for a run and get a coffee in the morning." he said.

you nodded and tried to hide your smile, "really? that's great! you should go!"

yup. totally not suspicious.

you kissed him before he left the next morning and made sure to wish him a happy birthday. you ignored the eye roll he gave you.

and you were running out of time. "okay people," you clapped your hands. "sam, don't forget the ribbons on the ends of those balloons."

steve had kept him busy for a couple of hours, but he'd already sent you a couple texts about bucky wanting to get back. he was officially running out of excuses.

sam only nodded in response which made you arch a brow, but your attention was quickly diverted when scott knocked over the pile of presents. "sorry!" you ran over to help him pick them up.

"i was just making the card and i didn't know if i should write 'happy birthday, buddy' or just 'happy birthday dude', cause you know...we don't know each other that well and i don't want him to feel awkward-" he began to ramble but was quickly interrupted by nat who tapped you on the shoulder.

you turned to her and she shrugged, "record players not working." your face dropped, "no no no no! please," you ran over to it and tried to clean it, turn it off and back on, whatever you could do. "this has to be perfect!" you begged the device.

"is this a bad time?" a sokovian accent asked softly. you looked over at wanda, who was wearing an apron that read 'my kitchen my rules', with a dispirited expression.

you could tell she had bad news so you waited to hear it. she grimaced, "the cake batter is taking a little longer to brown than expected."

you nodded and pursed your lips.

"that's fine! i'm sure steve can keep him busy for a little longer" you tried to keep it together, but then you heard keys turning in the door.

SHIT!

you waved everyone back to their stations and rushed to the door. you pushed your way through it, causing bucky and steve to take a step back. "bucky!" you said excitedly, but he could tell you were on edge.

you wrapped your arms around his neck and at first it was to keep him distracted out there, but suddenly you just melted. it turned out a hug was exactly what you needed.

you were finally able to take a deep breath. you pulled away from him and grabbed his hand with a smile. "come with me," you said before leading him into the apartment.

"surprise!" everyone shouted. sam didn't notice the two of you walking in, so he turned around late and yelled out a very high pitched, "surprise!"

you couldn't help but laugh.

bucky was smiling too as he looked around the room, but he turned to you with confusion etched across his features. "what's all this about?"

"it's your birthday!" you said as if it was obvious.

"i know, i just mean...you didn't have to go through the trouble. it's just a birthday," he shook his head.

your heart ached for the man who'd been through lifetimes of pain, "james. listen to me. i love you and celebrating the day that you were born is important to me, because i couldn't imagine life without you."

his grinned and looked into your eyes sincerely, "i love you too, doll."

and for a moment it was as if you were the only ones in that apartment, face to face and full of joy.

until scott walked over, "sorry if i'm ruining a moment or something. just wanted to give you this," he winked. he handed bucky a card with a hand drawn portrait of himself and bucky side hugging.

at the top it read, "happy birthday bestie!"

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

A Birthday Threesome for ‘Suki (Bakugou x Black!Fem!Reader 18+ One Shot)

"Two pretty sluts for the price of one? Lucky me."

Pairing: Pro!Bakugou x Black!Fem!Reader x Your Fem!Best Friend

Synopsis: In which you and your best friend decide to help your man see the joy in birthdays by giving him a threesome. Also, Bakugou likes butt plugs. HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY HUBBY 🎈

Warnings: Smutty Smut, 18+ (MINORS GTFO), Sub to Dom!Bakugou, Dom to sub!Fem!Reader, Race of Reader not Specified, Threesome, Birthday Sex, Anal Play, Food Play, Prostate Massaging, Edging, Double Blowjob, Mild Girl on Girl (just kissing), Spit Play, Cunnilingus, Multiple Positions, Unprotected PIV, Squirting, Creaming, Fingering, Overstimulation, Mild Degradation, Three Way Kissing, Cum Eating, Creampies, Facials, Dirty Talk, Three Way Cuddle

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: I'm uploading this ahead of time cuz it’s my boy’s birthday!! 🥳🥳 This one is kinda different, but I hope y’all like it! Enjoy! 🥰 -Jazz

*********

Bakugou had never been the one for birthdays. 

It’s not like he hated them, he’s told you once before while sitting in the spring sun for a picnic. “I just don’t see the hype with ‘em,” he said when you asked about it. “So what I turned a year older than I was last year? So what I’m still on this fuckin’ earth? What’s the big deal?” 

“But birthdays are something to celebrate!” You had protested, which he thought was cute. “The way I see it, you can either be a year older while alive or you could be a year older six feet under. Birthdays are for celebrating with the people you love.” 

“And I do,” he had argued. “I celebrate with you, don’t I?” You hummed indifferently as he rubbed your feet that were settled in his lap. “Look, babe, I get it; you like the surprise parties and birthday cakes and razzle-dazzle. I don’t need all that shit. I don’t even need a card.” 

His response had definitely rubbed you the wrong way. To you, birthdays were a time of celebration! To be on this earth for a certain number of years, especially with the shit the economy, capitalism, and COVID brought, was an accomplishment in itself. And to be able to celebrate another birthday with your man was even better! 

So, being the loving, great girlfriend you were, of course, you’d think of the best way to turn your man’s frown upside down and show him the beauty of birthdays. And what better way to do that than to plan a birthday threesome? 

Yes, a birthday threesome. 

You and Bakugou had always been a kinky couple. Anything that you could bring into the bedroom that the both of you could enjoy, you’d do it. Handcuffs and rope? Tried ‘em. Blindfolding? Temperature play? Most definitely. Bakugou loved you calling him “daddy” and seeing you squirm underneath him as he edged you to oblivion (being the asshole he is). 

But what he loved more than anything was to submit to you, too. He never expressed it to your mutual friends or tried to show it as much, but you knew he loved it when you took full control over him. His body, his mind, and his cock were all yours for the night to bend to your will. Add in a butt plug and some pegging, and he was ready to give you everything. 

However, the thought of having another person you could watch break him apart and share in that domination was hotter than you initially realized before coming up with your deviously-hot birthday surprise. 

You and Bakugou had discussed a threesome before, but Bakugou was very possessive. He’d be ready to blast someone to space for just looking at you. Plus, you didn’t know where to even look for the best third piece…until you did. 

Your best friend. A woman who was just as hot as you and whom you trusted wholeheartedly. A woman who also happened to have a secret attraction to your boyfriend that she confessed to you over cocktails one night. A woman you’ve caught Bakugou subtly checking out a few times during social outings…but obviously not subtle enough. 

You’d never been angered at him for it, especially when he’d shown you many times before that you were the only woman for him. “I belong to you,” he’d say to you, his sweaty forehead to yours, cock buried deep inside of you. So the idea of sharing such a hunk with someone who also was attracted to him would be much hotter than you initially thought. 

When you’d come to her with the idea, she’d first look at you like you were insane. “You sure?” she’d ask, uncertain about this. But after some reassurance on your end, she’d be ecstatic to be a part of your birthday surprise. Just imagine it now, how’d it all pan out: 

The day of Bakugou’s birthday, you’d pepper him in kisses and make him his favorite banana pancakes that morning before shooing him out the door for a spa day before he could initiate birthday sex.

“A $100 Hand & Stone coupon?” he’d grumble when you handed him the card, scowling at you. “Babe, I told you that you didn’t–” 

“Hush!” you’d say, pressing a finger to his plump lips. “Every hero needs a little relaxation, so this is yours. You need a massage.” His vermillion eyes would twinkle mischievously. “I need a massage, alright,” he’d growl, pressing your hand to his groin. “Think you can help me with that?” 

Ignoring him, you’d shoo him out the door of your shared apartment. When he finally begrudgingly left for nearly two hours of relaxation, you’d spend the whole day prepping for tonight. You’d clean the apartment from top to bottom, fix Bakugou his favorite dinner, leave it in the fridge for later, and call up your friend to tell her to come over. She’d arrive, happy to help you prepare for everything. 

“You sure we have time?” she’d ask, grabbing some lemon pledge to wipe down the counters. 

“The spa treatment is an all-day special,” you’d explain as you swept. “He’ll be out for hours.” That answer was enough to reassure your friend that you’d have all the time in the world to clean and cook. 

When your man finally came home later that evening, relaxed from his massage, skin glowing from his seaweed mask, and feeling loose from the champagne the spa offered back to back, he’d walk in to find the apartment suspiciously empty. “Baby?” he’d call. “You in here? I’ll admit, that stupid ass spa treatment was nice.” 

You wouldn’t answer. Your lack of response would make Bakugou nervous and he’d contemplate calling you until he ventured into the kitchen and saw what’d lie for him on the kitchen counter. There would be a red velvet cake (his favorite flavor) sitting there adorned in buttercream frosting and decorated in red and orange flowers that appear to also look like fire blasts. On the top would be writing in red food coloring that read, “Happy Birthday Katsuki!” 

Bakugou would be confused yet touched. Did you do all of this while he was out? Before he could ponder on it more, he’d be taken aback by the faint scent of roses and soft giggling coming from upstairs. “Up here, babe!” you’d call. 

Filled with relief that you were safe (just hiding), Bakugou would venture up the steps. “What is all this?” he’d call you. “I told you, I didn’t need all this, baby, really.” But as he walked upstairs, his heart would pound methodically against his ribcage in anticipation of what was to come next. 

But nothing could’ve prepared him for what he found waiting for him in your shared master bedroom. When he pushed open the bedroom door, he’d find a trail of red rose petals leading right over to his birthday presents: you and your friend, sitting on the couch near the window overlooking the city lights, dressed in only the most expensive lingerie. 

Bakugou’s greedy eyes would trail over the skin exposed along with how well the lingerie filled out your bodies’ natural curves. The cups of your lace bras framed your breasts so nicely, and he could only imagine what the back looked like. Sitting on the floor by the couch was a bucket where a bottle of champagne and glasses sat, giving him the impression that tonight really was for celebrating…as if seeing you and your friend decked in lingerie wasn’t an indication enough. 

You smiled at him as he stood there frozen on the threshold of the bedroom. “Happy birthday, baby,” you’d purr. “Well? You gonna just stand there or are you gonna join us?”

Bakugou wouldn’t need to be told twice. The door would be closed and his shoes would be off immediately before he rushed to join you on the couch like he had lit his ass on fire. 

The rest of the night would play in flashes of ecstasy as a surprise after surprise unfolded: 

You and your friend would sit Bakugou down between you with a glass of chilled champagne and ask him if he wanted this, only moving forward when he gave you an enthusiastic growl of “fuck yes��. 

After giving each other a look of pure excitement over finally getting the pro out of his clothes, you and your friend would strip Bakugou out of his clothes, giggling at his sharp intakes of breath and swearing. “Someone’s excited,” you’d coo into his ear, grinning at the way he shivered. 

“You shittin’ me?” he’d growl as he watched your friend’s soft hands that looked so small compared to his unbuckle his belt. “I’ve got two of the prettiest women in my bedroom right now. Who the fuck wouldn’t be excited?” 

Once you’d get him out of his clothes, you’d watch your friend admire his muscled body like he is carved from granite stone. You wouldn’t blame her, especially with the way the silver moonlight would shine through the window and illuminate your boyfriend’s mouthwatering six-pack and the dragon tattoo crawling up his right ribcage. His thick, muscular thighs would be spread, giving both of you girls a good peek at the outline of his dick in his designer briefs. 

Seeing your friend stare Bakugou down like he was a masterpiece would turn you on more than you believed. Your pussy would gush knowing that the same man that is yours is so wanted by everyone else. It would turn you on even more to see Bakugou stare her down with the same lust–filled stare, the act of sharing him with another person arousing you further. 

“Go on,” you’d encourage your friend. “Touch him.” She’d give you an uncertain stare before Bakugou would lean back against the couch, allowing her perfect access to his body. You and your friend would then run your hands all over him–up and down his abs, over his biceps, caressing his warm skin. The low moans of appreciation Bakugou would make at feeling hands all over him would work their magic on both of you, filling you with anticipation and need. 

However, Bakugou was a greedy man, and he’d try to touch both of your asses looking so plump and full in your thongs. You and your friend would then make it very clear that you both are in control and not him by slapping his hands away when he tried to touch you. 

“Uh-uh, baby,” you’d purr, smiling sexily at his irritated scowl. “No touching…not yet. You’re ours right now, so just sit there and take what we give you like a good boy.” 

And shockingly enough, Bakugou would listen, too turned on to fuss. He’d do nothing but watch as you and your friend’s hands would caress his hardened bulge in his briefs, your lips on his neck; his chest; behind his ear. “That’s his sweet spot,” you’d whisper to your friend, giggling at your boyfriend’s soft gasp as you squeezed his shaft in his briefs. 

After some teasing and earning a wet spot at the tip of his dick, you and your friend would finally pull down his briefs. Like a sexy Jack-in-the-box, Bakugou’s cock would finally spring free–thick, long, curved, veiny, and so, so fucking hard. Your friend would stare wide-eyed at it before cooing to Bakugou, “You have a beautiful dick, Dynamight.” 

“Bet you wanna taste it,” you’d giggle. “That’s what these are for: to make it sweeter.” You’d then reach down into the chilled champagne bucket where you’d present a bottle of chocolate syrup and a can of whipped cream to Bakugou. He’d stare down at the goodies, perplexed. “Da fuck are those for?” he’d ask. 

“For you, silly,” you’d giggle as your friend excitedly clapped her hands. “C’mon, you’ll love it!” Bakugou continued to stare down at the condiments fit for ice cream. “It’s part of your surprise, babe,” you’d coo before pecking his lips. “Let us show you.” 

After coaxing him to sit back and enjoy his champagne, you and your friend would proceed to squirt chocolate syrup and whipped cream along his dick, giggling at the way he’d shiver at the coolness of the continents hitting his skin. “Don’t get any of this shit on my floor,” he’d growl. “Otherwise, you’re both gettin’ punished.” 

You and your friend would share a mischievous look before you’d look up at him, batting your lashes. “Is that a promise, daddy?” you’d purr before giving the tip of his dick a lick. The sugary scents of whipped cream and chocolate would hit your nose as the sweetness of both condiments hit your tastebuds. Bakugou sighed at the feeling. 

Two sets of wet hands would then wrap around Bakugou’s dick, stroking him up and down, the tender skin of his shaft moving along with your hands and smearing the sugary-sweet continents around his shaft. He’d groan and moan at the feeling of your soft little hands on him, his head tilted back against the couch and eyes closed. 

After warming up, you and your friend would each share a turn with your mouths on his cock–sucking, licking, and slurping up the whipped cream, syrup, and precum bubbling at the head. Bakugou would stare at your two pretty mouths slurping up his dick, tongues sensually caressing the head and shaft, through hooded, red slits. 

“You both look so beautiful,” he’d whisper breathlessly, chest heaving rapidly and slowly losing it at seeing you both on your knees, chocolate and cream all over your mouths and lips. 

You smile up at him in thanks before taking his balls coated in whipped cream into his mouth, lightly sucking on each as your friend licked and sucked along the bulbous head of his cock. “You taste so good, baby,” you’d moan through his balls in his mouth. “Even without the chocolate or the cream.” Bakugou’s toes would curl and his moans would be loud, echoing along the bedroom walls. 

You’d later go further and have him in your throat, gagging along the head, dribbling saliva down to his balls that your friend would generously fondle as you deepthroated him. “Doesn’t she look so good, Dynamight?” she’d purr. “Doesn’t your girl look so nice with your cock in her throat?” 

Then it’d be her turn. You’d teach her how to slowly take him into her mouth before gagging on his cock shoved deep down her throat. You’d gently push her head down to take more of him, demanding that Bakugou watch another girl take your cock. “Watch her,” you’d whisper to him. “You think she’s better than me? Does her throat feel good, ‘Suki?” 

Bakugou wouldn’t shut up, too deep in euphoria to silence himself. He’d be losing his shit when your friend finally popped off of his cock with a gasp, her mouth wet and dripping in spit and chocolate. You two would then proceed to kiss with his wet dick sandwiched between your mouths. There would be nothing but the lewd sound of breathless moans and wet slurps as you erotically made out, tongues swirling and soft lips caressing his shaft. 

The erotic sight would be too much for him. “Gonna cum!” he’d warn you in a strained voice. “C-Can’t stop it! Gonna…ah!”

When he finally came, it’d be messy and quick, spurts of cum spilling out of his cock that would splash all over your hands and mouths. He’d sound straight out of a porno, his whimpers and grunts making your toes curl. 

You and your friend would greedily slurp up his cum from your lips and lick it off your hands, giggling at how messy your man is. “Naughty boy,” you’d mockingly scold him. “You made such a mess!” Your hands and lips would be sticky with whipped cream, chocolate, and his cum–a yummy combination. 

“Now you’re gonna have to be punished,” your friend would purr, helping you stand to your feet. Bakugou would stare up at the both of you, helpless and spent. 

You’d then coax him up from the couch and lead him over to the king-sized bed where you’d already have the other half of his birthday surprise laid out for him on the black, satin sheets: strawberry-flavored, warming lube and his favorite glass buttplug would sit there, causing Bakugou’s eyes to widen when he realized what was happening. 

You’d instruct him to lie down, giggling when he immediately gets onto his hands and knees, his plump ass from years of squats and training looking so appetizing. You and your friend would then climb onto the bed and take some time to warm Bakugou up. You’d graze your nails along his muscles; kiss his neck and lips; fondle his overly-sensitive balls.

Then you’d each squirt some lube onto your fingers before gently prepping and probing Bakugou’s tight, puckered hole, both of your pussies growing wet at the high-pitched whines and whimpers that would leave his pretty, pink lips. “Such a good boy,” you’d coo to him. “You’re doing so good for us, ‘Suki.” 

Your friend would reach under to fondle Bakugou’s heavy balls as you slowly, gingerly, inserted the buttplug into Bakugou’s ass, moaning wantonly at his whines and pitiful moans. “God!” he’d shout, his usually raspy, deep voice going up several octaves than usual. 

You and your friend who would take turns pumping the buttplug in and out of his tight hole, paying close attention to his body language when you brush against his prostate. You’d relish the way he’d writhe against the bedsheets, fisting them so hard that his knuckles turn stark white. His back would arch, pushing his ass up further, allowing you to plunge the plug deeper. 

Then you’d switch, giving yourself a break and a chance for your friend to make him moan like a bitch in heat. You’d then wrap your hand around his cock and pump it, your hand slick with lube and Bakugou’s precum, as you press your lips against his ear. “Happy birthday, baby,” you’d whisper, nibbling at his earlobe. 

The second orgasm would be messier than the first. Bakugou would be whining, begging, pleading either one of you for release. “T-Too much!” he’d sob into the mattress. “Please! Please just fuckin’ make me cum!” 

Your friend would giggle giddily at the change in his demeanor, still fucking his asshole with the butt plug. “Alright, ‘Suki,” you’d coo to him. “It is your birthday, after all. So cum for us like a good little boy. You don’t wanna disappoint my friend, do you?” 

As you’d cup his balls and turn your slow strokes into fast pumps, Bakugou wouldn’t be able to take so much stimulation and would cum all over your hand and the sheets below.

“Cumming!” he’d whine, a string of high-pitched moans and whimpers leaving his pillowy-soft, pink lips formed in an O. His pretty face would be screwed in ecstasy, cheeks red and eyes squeezed tight as his second orgasm hit him like a freight train. 

You’d silently encourage your friend to continue to stroke his prostate as you slowed your handjob down, bringing him to the brink of insanity from the overstimulation. “No more!” he’d groan. “Too much! C-Can’t…can’t…!” 

And you’d make him cum again, this one just as strong and as messy. Nut would paint the black sheets white, spurt all over your hand, and drip along his balls that would become sticky from it. Finally, you and your friend would stop, allowing the pro to recover. Seeing him so vulnerable, helpless, and spent would have your bodies beginning to be the vulnerable and helpless ones for a change. 

Bakugou would have the same idea after you fetched him some water and laid his head in your lap while your friend stroked her fingers down his arms and legs. “That was…fuckin’ amazing,” he’d heave, making you both giggle. 

“You did so well for us, baby,” you’d coo into his ear, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I’m so happy you enjoyed your birthday.” 

Bakugou would then sit up, his exhaustion gone and his personality flipping in a wink. He’d give you both a dark, devious, lust-filled stare that would have your hearts pounding and pussies wet, because you’d know what would come next. “It ain’t over yet,” he chuckled. “What, you thought tonight was over? After all, I’ve gotta enjoy my birthday gifts, don’t I?” 

And then, in the blink of an eye, he’d be forcing you and your friend onto your backs, side by side, staring up into his vermillion eyes and mischievous grin. “So,” he’d huff, “you slutty girls wanna play with me, huh? Question is, who do I take first?” 

A nervous smile would curl on your lips and you’d turn to your friend, sharing that same look of anxiousness and excitement. “Guess I’ll just have to take both of you then,” Bakguou would growl. “Teach you both a fuckin’ lesson for playin’ with me.” 

And mind you, the butt plug would still be in his ass during all of this. 

You’d barely of time to process what was happening before Bakugou is tossing your legs over his shoulders and plunging his tongue deep in your pussy while he stroked and petted your friend’s pussy. Her whines and moans would arouse you even more than Bakugou’s skillful mouth, causing you to gush all over his quick tongue that flicked over your clit. “‘S-Suki, please!” you’d beg. “Slow down!” 

But he wouldn’t stop. He’d keep going until he brought the both of you to your first orgasms that you’d share in unison. “Cum for me,” he’d growl into your cunt. “Both of you sluts fuckin’ cum for me!” 

And with a gasp followed by a moan of his name, you would. You’d burst all over the sheets and his mouth as your friend would cum all over his calloused fingers. After that first round, he’d switch. You’d then have his fingers toying with your needy little clit while his mouth was on your friend’s pussy, her legs spread wide for him and mouth open on a moan. 

“Just look at your girl, babe,” he’d sadistically chuckle, staring down at your friend in her fucking world. “You been teaching her, haven’t you? Your slutiness rubbed off on her, didn’t it?” 

His fingers would leave your clit to tweak at your nipple, pinching the hard peak until sparks filled your body. “Y-Yes, daddy,” you’d whine. “I’m sorry! I just wanted to give you a great birthday.” 

Bakugou’s eyes would soften then, touched by your confession. “I know a way to thank you,” he’d growl before proceeding to rub your needy little clit to make you cum again as you tweaked your own nipples.

“Fuck, daddy, yes!” you’d practically scream as your friend moaned his name, cumming all over his mouth, lips, and stubbled chin, her hands in his platinum blonde hair. 

You’d watch as she cums, noticing her body tensing and legs shaking as Bakugou continued to slurp up her cum, sounding and looking like a starving man. His back muscles would ripple as he spread your friend’s thighs open wider, licking her right from the source as she weakly moaned and whimpered, complaining that she was “so sensitive”. You’d be able to tell he was enjoying this, and that made you enjoy it too. 

When he’d finally break away from your friend’s inner thighs, his lips, and chin would be shiny with her and your juices combined. He’d greedily lick his lips and suck his fingers, making your pussy impatiently clench around air despite just cumming. “Let’s say we play some more, hm?” he hums, smiling darkly at you. 

You and your friend, exhausted and spent, would look at each other, slightly terrified. Would you even realize what you’d be getting yourselves into? The answer would be unknown, but the idea of that would make you hotter and desperate for whatever your man had in mind. 

“What’d you have in mind, birthday boy?” you breathlessly asked, weakly sitting up to drag your nails up and down Bakugou’s thighs. Your friend would sit up too, making a move to touch him too, running her hands down his pectorals. 

That question would result in your friend on her stomach with his cock stuffed deep inside of her, her ass bouncing in time with his thrusts. You’d be beside her, Bakugou’s fingers curled inside of your wet pussy, fingerfucking you as he fucked your friend into oblivion. Breathless huffs of “fuck, fuck, fuck” would leave Bakugou’s lips as he drove his cock into your friend, again and again again. 

“Two pretty sluts for the price of one?” he’d huff, a crooked smile that drove you insane on his face. “Lucky me. It really must be my fuckin’ birthday.” 

He’d then grab a fistful of your friend’s hair and wrench her head back, just enough for him to reach her ear. “How’s it feel to be fuckin’ with a pro, huh, baby?” he’d whisper into her ear, nibbling on her earlobe. Seeing him tease another woman opposite of you would make you clench harder around his fingers. 

“S-so good, daddy!” your friend would moan, planting her face into the mattress. “Right there! Don’t stop!” You’d want to tell your man the same thing, but he didn’t seem like he was letting up any time soon. You’d bounce against the mattress in time with his thrusts, your tits bouncing and your mind going blank. 

“Such a pretty girl you are,” Bakugou would grunt into your friend’s air. “Such a good girl to make me feel so good with your best friend.” His hand would then caress her ass before giving it a spank, making her whimper as the sharp sound of his hand against her asscheek filled the air. 

“She planned this whole thing,” she’d whimper, staring at you with blissed-out tears in her eyes. “She really loves you, Dynamight. You should make her feel good, too.” 

Bakugou would shoot you a lustful yet adoring look as he curled his fingers up into your G-spot, making your toes curl and your voice catch in your throat at the sheer pleasure. “Oh, I plan on it. But first, I’m making you cum all over my dick.” 

And he would: after a few more merciless, precise thrusts, your friend would be creaming all over Bakugou’s cock the way he’d want her to. When he’d pull out, your friend’s cum would be dripping all over his balls and around his cock. “Clean it,” he’d growl to her to which she’d greedily move to slurp up every ounce of her cum off of his dick and balls. He’d reward her with an open-mouthed kiss. 

And then it’d be your turn: you’d be on your back, legs spread wide and pussy on display for him. Before sliding inside, he’d first duck down to pepper your face in kisses and nose nuzzles. “Thank you for tonight,” he’d whisper against your sweaty brow. “You’re the best fuckin’ girlfriend in the fuckin’ world.” 

Then, finally, he’d plunge his dick inside of you and begin to rock his hips into you, making you see stars. Beside you, your friend would lie, legs spread and moans bouncing off the walls as Bakugou plays with her pussy too. He wouldn’t let either one of you have a break. He’d continue to make you cum again and again until you were sobbing for him to stop, broken from the pleasure. 

As he’d rut his hips into you, he’d torture you with his words as his cock abused your pussy oh-so-good. 

“Who owns these fuckin’ pretty pussies?” he’d snarl. “Who’s gonna make you cum for the fourth fuckin’ time tonight?” 

When neither one of you are fast enough with your response, he’d wrap a hand around your throat and smack your friend’s pussy. “Say it! Say my fuckin’ name!” he’d bellow, his rasped voice echoing off of his bedroom walls. 

“You, Katsuki!” you’d sob as he pummeled into you, gasping around his hand encircling your throat. “You’re gonna make your good little sluts cum! Please, please make us cum, Daddy Dynamight!” 

That would make something snap in Bakugou because suddenly, he’d begin pounding into your pussy so quick and so roughly that his thrusts would send your pussy into hyperdrive with how mercilessly he was grazing your G-spot. Your friend would be facing the same treatment as Bakugou would continue to fingerfuck her senseless, his thumb generously rubbing her clit to orgasm. 

“Cum for me,” he’d demand. “Both of you be good girls for me and fuckin’ cum for me right now.” 

And you would. You and your friend would once again cum in unison as you’d explode all over Bakugou’s fingers and cock. You’d cum so much that you’d cream all over the sheets, making a mess of yourself as you clenched around your boyfriend’s cock. “Fuck, you got so tight,” he’d moan appreciatively. “Gonna make me cum too.” 

“Do it, daddy,” you’d beg. “Cum deep inside of me…but don’t forget to leave some for her.” Your friend would be there beside you, on her side and watching with astonishment as Bakugou pummeled into you again and again. You’d be grasping his shoulders for dear life as the bed springs bounced with how rough he was fucking you, still pummeling your G-spot and turning it to mush. 

Finally, with a gasp, Bakugou would reach his peak. “Fuck!” he’d shout before he’d clench you to his body, his fingers digging into your hips, as he’d cum deep, deep inside of you.

He’d fill you to the brim with rope after rope of hot cum, giving you the impression that he’d been needing it. You would weakly moan at the warm feeling flooding your pussy before he slowly pulled out of you, making the cum drip down your ass crack. 

“Still not done,” he’d grunt, pumping his wet cock in your face. He’d nod at your friend, crooking his finger in a “come hither” motion that seemed to drive you insane. 

Though both of you would be exhausted from cumming back to back and having Bakugou put you through the wringer, like two greedy, cum-hungry whores, you’d be sitting on your knees in front of him, hands flat on your thighs and tongues out. Bakugou would pump his semi-hard dick in your faces until he finally had a second mini-orgasm, groaning as spurts of cum were pumped onto your faces and waiting, heated tongues. A delirious giggle would leave your lips as you felt the hot spurts of nut splatter onto your face, tongue, cheeks, and tits. 

“Come here,” Bakugou would growl. “Both of you. Gimme those lips.” 

He’d lean down to kiss you both, leading to a three-way kiss as his tongue swirled with both of yours. He’d moan appreciatively at the taste of his cum on your mouths, earning soft, breathy moans from you in response. It’d be one of the hottest kisses you’d ever had in your life. 

Finally, after recovering from his orgasms, Bakugou would fetch you both some lavender-scented baby wipes which you’d gratefully use on your skin to wipe his cum off of your skin. Then he’d lie back against the pillows, abs, and flaccid cock on display for the both of you. He’d open his arms out, a crooked smile on his face. “What the fuck are you just sittin’ here for?” he’d ask. “Can’t end tonight without a three-way cuddle. Come here, girls.” 

Though suddenly feeling shy despite just having a fucking threesome, you’d crawl to your boyfriend and curl up on one side while your friend would take the other. Bakugou would sigh contently as he’d lie sandwiched between you, your tits pushing into his sides. “That was fuckin’ amazing,” he’d laugh. “I’ve never cum that hard in my life!” 

You and your friend would giggle in the quiet of your and Bakugou’s master bedroom. “I’m glad you enjoyed it,” you’d sigh, giddy with happiness at your plan being a success. “I certainly did.” 

“Me too,” your friend would reply, suddenly appearing shy as she traced shapes over Bakugou’s chest. 

“You know…if you’d ever want to do this again, I could definitely make a date for your next birthday, Dynamight.” 

You and Bakugou would share a look, shocked at her suggestion, but also extremely turned on. You’d share a smile before he’d turn to her, gripping her closer by her waist. “Call me Katsuki,” he’d purr to her. “And who said we had to wait till my next birthday?” 

“We have about two hours until midnight,” you said, looking at the clock. “Technically, your birthday isn’t done yet, ‘Suki.” 

At your words, you’d feel Bakugou’s cock suddenly lurch back to life against your thigh, hardening at the base. He’d smirk at you both, causing a pool of heat to make its way back into your aching pussy.

“Round two, ladies?” he’d ask, taking a handful of each of your asses and squeezing them. “After someone gets this fuckin’ plug outta my ass.” 

You and your friend would bust out in laughter, realizing that yes, that butt plug was still deep in Bakugou’s ass. “And after that, we can finally enjoy that birthday cake,” you cooed as you coaxed Bakugou onto his knees, moving to get some body oil to slick up your fingers. 

“I’m kinda in the mood for some other birthday cake,” he’d growl before giving your ass a smack, once again making your pussy clench impatiently for more. 

Hours later, you three wouldn’t be sleeping until dawn. 

A birthday surprise (and threesome) gone right, indeed.

[echoing-gravity]

MLB X MCU AU in which Marinette gets revealed as Multimouse to the entire world

Because Alya cant be trusted to be responsible with a camera.

Every-fucking-one knows now. hawkmoth. her PARENTS. Hell even TONY fucking STARK knows she was a hero.

and then her parents make/force her to take Style queens offer to intern in NYC, because, from their perspective she is not safe in paris. and like- the AVENGERS are in new york so surely it must be safe there. so they pack up and move their entire bakery business.

and she ends up going to midtown high-school, where not to her knowledge, fellow teenage superhero Peter parker aka "Your friendly neighborhood SPIDER-MAN" goes to school.

Cute adorable shipping commences.

peter is all like "omg another teenage super hero???!!! like me???? i thought i was the only one???? transferring to MY school?!!! SO COOL!!"

"marinette is super smart, marinette is pretty, she was one of THE Miraculous Ladybug's sidekicks how cool is that??!, marinette is COOL!! maybe we can be friends? how am i gonna talk to someone that cool though?? i cant tell her my secret identity!!!"

insta-crush. peter is a marinette SIMP

(and yo, dont get on my case about marinette being super fucking smart, this is the girl who figured out she was getting a birthday party from just seeing one of her friends holding a bike pump. that girl is a tactical genius! she just has self esteem issues. they are both nerd, their just nerds about differnt things, let the nerds date!!!!)

of course Marinette still has the ladybug miraculous -even tho everyone thinks she doesn't have the rat miraculous anymore- and the miracle box. so she can still fight hawkmoth because the horse is basically fast travel irl, Space miraculous super conveintent.

(also concerning the mirsacle box, im going with my headcanon/Unlucky 13 AU on what that looks like post "ladybug becomes guardain" because that egg thing from canon? fucking lame

These ones^^^)

It would be canon compliant till season 2 and most? of season 3? but like fuck miracle queen, season3 finale + truth made me stop watching the show. so like in this au, lets just assume Fu is dead, and ladybug has had the miracle box for some time now. and that they got the miraculous when they were 13, and are currently 15? yeah? okay.

(also prolly chat salt, it doesn't HAVE to be chat salt, but like- He. Keeps. Trying. To. Quit. And leave all the work to marinette!!!! its happened like 3?? times now? Marinette CANT quit!!! its literally "do this or lose all your memories!!!" she is being held hostage by a fucking magic box full of responsibilities no 15 year old should have to deal with.)

I headcanon that marinette stress-bakes, so like cute scene number #1 after peter and marinette become friends, could be something like "marientte stresses for a test, and then bakes to much food so her parents make her take it to school to share with her peers, and she ends up giving like- 1/2 of them to parker, becuz of his super high metabolism.

and how marinettes got her whole "i'm RESPONISBLE!!! for the whole fucking universe now, omfg i'm the reason fu is basically dead" angsty shit going on which kinda parallels peters whole "i have super powers, and if i dont do something to help then its my fault if someone gets hurt, like how my uncle died. With great power, comes great RESPONSIBLITY!!!" angst. maybe they could trauma bond. who doesn't like a good hurt comfort trauma bond fic?

marinette likes designing fashionable but also functional clothes.

peter likes designing gadgets and techy things. let them be nerds together!!! in love!!

i feel like they would be the kind of couple/friends to just ramble on about their passions and they would listen to each other even tho they dont know much about each others interests yet. (also hey what if marinette and peter co designed one of peters early suits pre-stark suit??? the fucking writing potential this ship has omfg c'mon ppl!!! why are we sleeping on this??)

oh! and maybe peter figures out that marinette is also ladybug -but later on- cuz like, he has superhearing? and tikki isn't as subtle as she thinks she is.

and then he's all in awe like "Wow holy shit!!! she made her ladybug secret identity FOOLPROOF!!!! no one would ever fucking suspect!! maybe she can help me with mine???"

Fox miraculous shenanaigans insue????? The daily Bugles next headline be like: "SPIDER-MAN SAVES SI INTERN PETER PARKER FROM ETC ETC"

( the media thinks Ladybug and Chat are 1000+ years old due to that thing alya found in that museum that one time. and the fact that people know that Thor and Loki are super old.

Ladybug's excuse to the public for letting a teenager, Nay! for letting a THIRTEEN YEAR OLD CHILD use an extremly dangerous magical artifact for a little over 2 years, goes something like this: "Marinette was the ONLY person in france- maybe in the whole world! that was compatible with the Rat miraculous, it takes a very smart person to be able to multitask like that, and marinette has a photographic/phonetic memory."

i headcannon that marinette photographic/phonetic memory, and that the Rat Miraculous is the math miraculous that was mentioned in the comics that one time, and that if an incompatible person were to try and use it they would at BEST develop a severe case of split personality disorder/ or schizophrenia, and at WORST their brain would- just- melt out of their ears. )

Also he calls her "Spots" or "LuckyBug" when shes in hero mode.

(i cant think of cute nicknames for peter, ugh "web head" is just something i cant picture marinette saying. what's the french word for spider? what's the french word for cobwebs??)

She prolly just calls him "Webs" or "Spidey"

[watchmegetobsessed]

Tastes Like Strawberries - Harry Styles

a/n: oh this one is a long boi and might not be the end??? i’ve been working on this fic for days and i have an idea for a possible second part, but i wrote this one so it has a fulfilling ending so it can stand as a oneshot as well! i barely just started working on the sequel, we’ll se how it’ll turn out, maybe it goes to shit lmao but whatever, it’s still a nice and whole story without a second part! this is my V-day gift to you all, have this nice professor!harry fic as if it was a box of chocolate! 🍓 🍫 🍬

special thanks to @pastequeharry​ who put up with my constant rambling and whining while i was writing this, you are a hero, his is dedicated to you!!

pairing: professor!Harry x Reader

warning: sexual content, abusing relationship, it’s got smut, angst, lot’s of banter and all that jazz!

word count: 21.4k

masterlist

There’s just a handful of things to know about Professor Harry Styles and that’s because of one of those very few known facts, the first one being that he is a highly private person. He rarely talks about himself or any aspects of his life, he always makes sure to keep it as professional as possible whenever he is teaching.

Second, he is easily the smartest professor to ever walk on campus, but he doesn’t like to brag about it. You never catch him showing off how much he knows, how big of a genius he is, you’ll just start to realize from the way he teaches and approaches certain topics, how he interacts with others and tries to pass his knowledge down to his students. He is brilliant and he should have all the credits for it, yet he still chooses to keep it to himself.

Third, and it’s the most well-known fact because to see this you just need to have a pair of eyes, he is undeniably the most handsome man to ever teach or if you’re being more precise, walk the hallways of the university. No football crazy, alcoholic fratboy or dreamy looking indie guy from the library can live up to what Professor Harry Styles is. With a face clearly carved by the angels, a nicely built but not too muscular frame, and occasionally displayed tattooed arm that makes you wonder what other artworks his stylish outfits are hiding, there’s no man like him and every female on campus agrees with that.

His lectures and courses are jampacked with sighing and heart-eyed college girls, daydreaming about the man who is solemnly just trying to teach the things he is so passionate about. But it’s not just the students, Professor Styles has managed to charm the female professors of all faculties, you can see them wander by his office way too often, they take any opportunity to talk to the man and try to seduce him. It’s unknown if he is oblivious to the effect he has on women or he chooses to ignore every and any attempts, but this is what leads us to the fourth fact.

Despite all the effort and energy that’s been put into his case by every single woman on campus to break the walls the professor has built around himself, he never let any of his students or colleagues to even think they could be romantically linked for real. Professor Styles keeps his distance and turns down any offer that could be mistaken to anything that doesn’t fit in the professional boundaries.

Anytime a student puts on the slightest flirtatious act towards the professor, he either rejects it straight away or ignores it completely and blatantly, making it his clear answer that he is not interested and then he goes back to teaching. You’ve seen it yourself, having him as one of your professors first year of uni, you fell for him just like every other girl in the lecture hall, dreaming about him in ways you probably shouldn’t think of a teacher while he was just casually talking about his grading system and how he is going to build up the lectures throughout the semester. Some brave girls who you assume were highly celebrated by boys in high school took the courage to openly flirt with him, but he didn’t even flinch before shutting all attempts down, not even a blush appeared on his perfectly cut cheekbones.

You thought of ways you’d try to seduce him yourself, but you never actually tried. You never had the balls to actually give it a go and then suffer from the worst embarrassment of your life when he rejects you. So you kept it all to yourself, only entertaining yourself with your elaborate plans about the seduction of your professor.

Second year passed without any classes with Professor Styles, you had only occasionally seen him come and go, rushing down the hallways holding his notebooks to his chest, a steaming cup of coffee in his other hand as he was heading to his lecture hall that you just knew was filled with girls. You always took a moment to yourself to admire his outfit. He has a tendency to pair odd items and make them look like the most put together fit ever that only he can pull off. However, you and your girlfriends always loved to tease him between each other for his grandpa-like sweaters and vests he seemed to love dearly.

“He confuses me, because I want him to fuck me on his desk but also, I feel like he is about to ask me what periodt means because he is too old to understand slang these days,” your friend, Nat said once when your little group was lounging under the huge oak tree between classes and the professor rushed past you, disappearing in the building without paying any of you a look. He wore a pair of beige slacks and a striped sweater, a wrinkly grey shirt peeking from under it at the bottom. The colors and the style overall once again gave you that old people feeling, but then you looked at his handsome face and couldn’t care any less about whatever he was wearing.

The most intimate way you ever saw him was a few days after your twenty-first birthday the summer before your last year of uni started. You just got back from your hometown, the first person to arrive back to your shared flat with Nat and Eden, so you had a few days on your own. You decided to redecorate your room so you took a trip to IKEA, taking your time looking through the set up rooms, just wandering around as you try to figure out what you really want to buy. Walking through the living room section you spotted the professor and first, you didn’t even recognize him.

He was wearing a pair of bright yellow shorts and a short sleeved shirt with floral prints on it, a pair of white framed sunglass on top of his head, keeping his unruly strands out of his face as he was eyeing a couch, seemingly deep in his thoughts. You stopped in your tracks, seeing him in such a casual and everyday setting. For some reason, he seemed like a completely different person.

A woman was there with him and as you walked closer you could hear a fraction of their discussion.

“I don’t know, Gems. Do I need a couch this big?”

“Looks comfy and I like the color. It would also fit in the space just right, I think you should get the bigger one if you have the space for it,” the woman put her two cents in and you wondered who she could be. Girlfriend? Just a casual friend? Maybe fiancé? She did have a ring that could easily go as an engagement ring so you couldn’t tell for sure.

As you were about to walk past you suddenly took the courage to say hi.

“Hello, Professor Styles!” you greeted him with a warm smile and his eyes flickered over to you from the couch in question. One thing you always admired about him is that he never forgot the faces of his students and as he looked at you, you knew he recognized you even if he didn’t know your name specifically.

“Oh, hello,” he nodded in your way.

“I like the couch,” you commented before slowly moving on. “Have a nice rest of your summer!”

“You too, Y/N,” he called after you and it took you by surprise that he remembered your name. Your lecture he taught had almost over a hundred students in it and you weren’t the most active one to stand out that easily, yet he still remembered you more than you were expecting.

That small encounter kept you thinking about him for way longer than you probably should have, especially because you knew you’d have a lecture with him again in the upcoming semester. Your daydreams about him made their way back into your mind as you spent the last days of your summer mostly with your friends. It got you thinking that if you managed to get him to remember your name, maybe you would give one of your plans a go and shoot your shot. He wouldn’t be teaching you in your last semester so you wouldn’t have to face him after he rejects you.

And this is how you came up with your little scheme.

On your last Sunday evening before school starts, you, Nat and Eden sit in the floor of your living room, drinking some white wine as a way of saying goodbye to the carefree summer moments and getting back to the working days of being a senior at uni. Professor Styles came up completely randomly and you let it slip that you’ve just seen him recently at IKEA with a woman and it all led to you admitting that you’ll finally shoot your shot at the professor. Nat and Eden both did the same already, however their attempts were completely ignored and they always bugged you to give it a try yourself, being the only one in your group who hasn’t tried to seduce the professor yet.

“I’ll tell you, but you can’t tell me it’s stupid because I actually think it’ll be funny and a little bit genius,” you tell them before you start sharing the details on your plan.

“Just spill the beans already!” Eden pokes you before she reaches for the bottle and refills her glass.

“Okay, so you both know I took this psychology class last semester for extra credits, right?” The nod and you continue. “The teacher told us about this thing called classical conditioning or they call it pavlovian response too. The guy, Pavlov, did an experiment where he paired the feeding of dogs with a bell ring and after a certain amount of time the dogs started salivating at just the sound of the bell, because they remembered that it’s connected to food. The teacher said this is literally one of the easiest tricks to pull on people.”

“Oh, isn’t this one of the things Jim did on Dwight in The Office?” Nat asks furrowing her eyebrows.

“It is!” you nod, glad that they are understanding the base of your plan. “So, I’ve heard that Professor Styles loves strawberry flavored candies. I thought that I would bring some every day when I see him and offer him some. Slowly, he’ll pair the candy with the thought of me and he’ll get excited when he sees me because he’ll think I have candy for him and it will hopefully work the other way around and he’ll think of me when he is eating strawberry flavored candy that’s not from me.”

Your friends blink at you for a moment, processing what you just shared with them before Eden takes a huge sip of her drink.

“This is the most ridiculous but also the most genius thing I’ve ever heard,” she nods holding her glass up towards you.

“I can’t believe you will pull a psychological experiment on Professor Styles,” Nat shakes her head with a soft chuckle.

“It’s not a blunt way to get closer to him and if he accuses me of trying to flirt I can just say that I’ve been only sharing candy with him, I literally did nothing,” you point out, pretty proud of your solution to your deep fear of having to take his rejection publicly.

“If you get a Noble for this shit, make sure to thank us in your speech,” Eden laughs and you promise to do so when the big moment comes.

Monday morning you make a quick trip to Target and buy a big bag of strawberry flavored candies, probably enough to last for the whole semester, and then you make your way to campus. Following your first lecture you meet up with Eden who also signed up for Professor Styles’ lecture this semester, so the two of you make your way towards the lecture hall together.

“I really can’t believe you are doing this,” she chuckles when you get the candy ready as you near the room. The professor is always the first one in the lecture hall so you know you’ll find him there already.

“You can’t tell me it’s not a funny plan,” you smirk at her. And just as you walk in, you immediately spot the professor sitting at the desk at the front, going over the syllabus before the start. “Save a seat for me,” you tell Eden who just laughs and makes her way up the stairs along the desks.

Grabbing the pack of sweets from your bag you walk up to the professor, feeling confident with your plan. He lifts his head up when he notices your arrival and your eyes meet with his green ones.

“Hello, professor. Would you like some candy?” you simply ask with an innocent smile.

Professor Styles stares at you for a moment before his eyes move down to the candy in your hand, the opening of the bag facing him in a welcoming manner.

“I, uhh… what flavor?” he curiously asks and you can barely push down your smirk.

“Strawberry.”

“Oh. I’ll… take one, thank you,” he nods, hand reaching into the bag as he grabs just one single candy, unwrapping the package before he pops it into his mouth. “Thank you,” he nods again with a delightful smile.

“Of course. Did you buy the couch?” you ask, taking slow steps away from the desk as he keeps his eyes on you.

“I… did not. Bought another one,” he admits shortly and you know you’ve reached the limit. If you ask more, he’ll get suspicious, so you just nod smiling before walking up to the spot Eden has reserved for you. When you sit down, you catch the professor paying you one last glance before he returns to what he was previously doing.

“You are a genius, because now we can watch him suck on a fucking candy for the next few minutes,” Eden mumbles quietly, making you laugh.

“I knew this would be a good plan,” you sigh, satisfied with the work you’ve done. Now it’s just a matter of time.

Every Monday and Wednesday, you arrive with the same bag of candy to the lecture hall, walk up to Professor Styles and offer him one. And he always takes one. The first few times he seems hesitant when he spots you approaching him, but he slowly grows used to your tiny act of kindness that occurs every time you see him. On week three you expand the plan. You usually have lunch with Nat on Thursdays since you both have a break between one and two pm. The two of you try to take advantage of the warm early autumn days and sit under the pergola that’s near the building where Professor Styles’ office is as well. It’s mere coincidence, you only like that place because it’s close to the lecture hall you have to go to after lunch, but you notice that the professor emerges from Building C around one thirty, walking back to his office probably after one of his classes. The sidewalk runs directly next to the pergola so it gives you a chance to bring the candy out one more time every week. You nicely greet him when he is nearing the two of you and then hold out the bag, asking if he wants some. He always takes one and thanks you with a sweet smile that leaves you a tad bit blushed.

“I can’t fucking believe your plan is working,” Nat chuckles in disbelief on one occasion when the professor just disappeared in the building, probably happily unwrapping his candy of the day.

“It’s funny, innit?” you grin at her proudly.

Frankly, this is just a fun experiment for you. You don’t actually think that the professor will think of you differently even the slightest. You might be able to plant the thought of you in his head, but that doesn’t instantly mean that he’ll start fancying you and actually do something about it. It would be ridiculously naïve to think it’s going to be you who breaks through the wall that hundreds of women had already tried to knock down.

Week six is what brings the breakthrough. After long consideration and discussion with Nat and Eden, you decide to test if the experiment has been successful. You offer one last candy on Monday, but Wednesday brings the change. You go to lecture without candy. Well, you have it on you, but you decide not to ask him if he wants some.

Walking into the lecture hall, as always, he is already sitting at his desk, flipping through the pages of a book when you walk up to him with the intention of asking him a question on the paper that’s due next week.

“Professor Styles?” you softly speak up, catching his attention. “Can I have a question about the paper?”

“Of course,” he nods and you can’t tell just yet if he was expecting the candy or not.

“I was wondering if I can use a diagram to visualize my results at the end. I have a brilliant idea to summarize the data with one.”

“Sure, just make sure to give credit wherever it’s due, if you are using someone else’s work for the diagram.”

“Definitely,” you smile at him and wait a moment. That’s where you see the anticipation in his eyes.

His gaze flickers down to your hands and then to your bag where you always carry the candy and when his eyes meet yours again, you see him swallow hard.

He was expecting the candy. Not only expecting, but he started salivating when he saw you, thinking that he would get the candy from you as always.

“Is… that all?” he asks, the slightest hint of hope appearing in his tone, probably waiting for you to pull the bag of candy out of your bag and offer him one. But it’s not happening today.

“Yes, thank you very much,” you nod smiling widely before you turn around and walk away, a shocked and triumphant look appearing on your face once he can’t see it anymore and when Eden sees you, she gasps.

“He fucking expected the candy, didn’t he?!” she whispers at you in shock and you nod frantically, still not believing your plan worked.

“You should have seen the anticipation in his eyes, he really thought I was gonna offer him some!”

“Oh my God, this is hilarious!” Eden laughs covering her mouth as the lecture hall starts to fill up slowly.

Turning forward, you see that the professor is sitting behind his desk, the book that had his attention before your arrival is long forgotten in front of him, now he is staring ahead of him with slightly furrowed eyebrows, deep in his thoughts.

Is he thinking about you? Or why he was expecting candy from you?

You see him reach for his water bottle and he takes two big gulps probably to wash away his need for the candy before he narrows his eyes and at last they find you in the auditorium. You tilt your head to the side innocently smiling, as if you know absolutely nothing about anything. You keep eye-contact, forcing you not to be the one who breaks it and he is intimidating. You feel like he can read your mind as he stares at you and when he finally turns his gaze back at the book, you exhale sharply.

The lecture goes down just as usual and when the professor dismisses the class you decide to put the cherry to the top. Walking down between the desks you grab a candy from your bag and while the professor is talking to a girl who also had a question about the paper, you place the candy to his desk next to his book. He doesn’t see you walk out and you don’t see him when he finds it, but something is telling you he figured you out. No way a man as smart as him doesn’t realize what game you’ve been playing with him.

Sitting under the pergola on Thursday you are deep in discussion with Nat, helping her with a task sheet she has to turn in after lunch but she completely forgot about it. As the two of you are trying to do the seemingly endless sheet, you don’t even notice the professor walking from Building C, as always, but he spots you.

“No, I don’t think that’s even a thing, you can’t write that,” you tell Nat, but she shakes her head.

“I don’t care if it’s a thing, I just want to fill in the whole thing so the teacher doesn’t think I finished it in twenty minutes before class,” she mumbles, scribbling down her answer as you just chuckle at her.

Suddenly, you see a pair of dusty Vans appear in your sight and as your eyes move up, you are facing none other than Professor Styles, standing right in front of you, holding out his hand with his hand turned upwards, a cheeky smile tugging on his lips. His appearance takes you by surprise and for a moment you just dumbly stare down at his palm, then up at his eyes.

“Very smart. Pulling a pavlovian on me with my favorite candy,” he speaks up, dropping his hand as he cocks his head to the side. Nat looks up from her sheet with wide eyes as you stare at the professor with blushing cheeks.

“I have no idea what you are talking about, professor,” you tell him with a knowing smirk.

“Of course. You know, it took me a moment to realize yesterday, but I wanted to let you know that… I think it was clever.”

“If I knew anything about what you’re talking about… I would say thank you. But I stand up for my innocence.”

“Surely,” he chuckles softy. “Have a great rest of your week,” he then nods before turning around to walk away, but you quickly reach into your bag and grab a candy.

“Professor Styles!” you call out and he turns back just in time to catch the candy you throw in his way. He glances at it in his palm before his eyes snap up to you again, smirking at you shortly before he disappears in the building.

“Okay, call me stupid, but I could feel the sexual tension between the two of you,” Nat says as soon as the professor is out of sight.

“Don’t be silly, it was just… a joke and he liked it.”

“He called you clever, Y/N!”

“No, he called my trick clever.”

“But you came up with it so you’re clever too. Say whatever you want, but I actually think you have a shot at him.”

“I definitely don’t,” you laugh shaking your head and you genuinely believe it. Nat scoffs before she gets back to her sheet, but not without having one last thought about the situation.

“We’ll be laughing at how you brainwashed him into liking you when you’ll be dating for years, living together and all that shit.”

You’ve made some very questionable choices in your dating life prior. Like when you dated a boy in high school and let him take your virginity at the back of his mom’s minivan just to break up with your right after that, or when you briefly dated the guy you met at the mall, but it later turned out he was gay and he used you as his cover up in front of his family. But the worst decision of all was dating an egoistic forty years old loser who just freshly got divorced and went after you at some tacky bar you were at with your friends.

The time you spent dating Victor is way less than the time he has been bothering you, trying to make you go back to him when you’ve actually told him you don’t want anything to do with him anymore. You broke up with him just before you went home for the summer and he didn’t take it well, even drove up to your hometown and showed up at your parents’ house drunk, begging for you to take him back. He never stood a chance, not after that one time he slapped you across the face during a fight the two of you had. You tolerate a lot of things but not violence and you don’t believe him when he says it was just a onetime thing. There’s no guarantee he won’t hit you ever again and you are definitely not waiting around to see if he told you the truth.

On this particular late October evening you are searching through your whole room looking for a book you know you have, but can’t seem to find anywhere. It’s your holy bible about research methodology and you need it for your thesis work, but it seems like the small apartment has completely swallowed it.

“Didn’t you leave it at Victor’s? You were working on that long essay when you were dating him, saw you use the book all the time,” Eden tells you when you ask her if she’s seen it anywhere and then it clicks.

She is right, now you remember leaving the book at his once and you completely forgot to pick it up after things got nasty between the two of you.

“Damn it,” you growl in annoyance.

Not feeling like calling him, you send him a quick text, hoping he still has it and hasn’t burned it after one of your fights.

Y/N: Hey, I think I left my research methodology book at yours. You still have it?

Victor: I do.

Y/N: Cool, can I drop by to pick it up?

Victor: I’m leaving for work, you can come to the bar if you want it.

You sigh in defeat. Victor is a bartender at a place that’s all the way across town, takes almost an entire hour to get there, but you are left with no other choice.

Y/N: Okay, I’ll see you there.

The raining has finally stopped this morning so you feel better leaving the house than you would have if it was still pouring. You take the bus and travel across town, feeling anxious to see Victor again. Last time you met him he cursed you out and threw his phone at you, barely missing your head. You promised yourself you wouldn’t go near him again after that, but it seems like you can never get completely rid of him.

Students rarely come to this part of the town, it’s way too far from campus and has nothing to offer that can’t be found closer to the dormitories or the school’s buildings. It’s not entirely your scene either, the bars around here are liked by older generations, not by people your age, this is another reason why you don’t like coming around here.

The bar where Victor works is a place where they have different local bands perform every Friday and Saturday. It’s not a tacky nook with creepy dudes, they actually have prices on the higher end, not something you can necessarily afford with your part time job’s paycheck from the small accounting office near your apartment where you work as an assistant on your free afternoons.

Walking into the place you immediately spot Victor behind the bar and you take a deep breath before you walk up to him.

“Hey,” you call out for him, taking one of the stools along the bar.

“Hey. Long time no see.”

“Happens when you break up with someone,” you respond with a little spice and he frowns at your words. “Can you give me the book?”

“I’ll have a break in ten, can you wait for that or you have something extra urgent shit to do, as always?” You can tell he is still bitter from how things ended between the two of you, but you’ve learned not to care about it. His way of dealing with the breakup is not your responsibility, no matter how hard he is trying to prove it wrong.

You roll your eyes but nod, knowing well there’s no use to fight him. Ten minutes is not the end of the world. Busying yourself on your phone, you try to stay unnoticed and luckily, Victor can’t keep chatting with you, because customers keep coming up to him and ordering drinks. When he finally has his break he tells you to follow him to the back.

“So how have you been?” he asks as you walk down the hallway that leads to the small break room, there’s an office at the end and some kind of changing room you guess for the bands, along with a storage.

“Fine.”

“You really gonna be a bitter bitch and not talk to me?” he asks you, giving you a disgusted look, but you know it’s just the anger talking from him.

“Victor, I didn’t come here to talk, I just need my book!”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t answer my question.”

“I answered it! I’ve been fine, now give me the damn book!” you growl, losing your patience with him, but he is seemingly in the same shoes.

“When will you stop being a bitch and just drop this ridiculous act, Y/N? I’ve been after you for months yet you keep ignoring me!”

“Did it ever occur to you that I’m ignoring you because I don’t want anything to do with you? Victor, it’s been months, just… move the fuck on! Go cry to your ex-wife or something, I don’t care!”

You didn’t mean to snap, but he always brings the worst out of you. From the corner of your eyes you can see movement at the other end of the hallway where the changing room is, but you don’t get to pay much attention to it, because the next moment Victor grabs you by your arm and yanks you towards him.

“Don’t fucking talk to me like that! You ungrateful slut, I swear…”

There’s little you can do, he is twice as big as you are, his grip on your arm so strong there’s no doubt it will leave a mark. Your heart is racing as you try to pull yourself out of his hold, but he doesn’t even bat an eye at your attempt.

However, before he could drag you into the empty breakroom to do god knows what, he is stopped by a voice.

“Hey! Let her go!”

If you weren’t shocked enough at his violent reaction, now you are definitely think you’re going nuts, because it’s none other than Professor Styles who is now nearing you with a hard expression on his face, two other guys following right behind him and though none of them are bigger than Victor, he knows he can’t just start a fight with three men.

Your chest is heaving when the professor finally reaches you and Victor’s hold lets go of you, making you fall back a little.

“You perform here twice and think you’re some kind of rockstar?” Victor spats at the professor, but you’re a little lost in what’s really going on. Professor Styles gently grabs your wrist and pulls you behind him, eyes never leaving Victor’s burning gaze.

“You alright?” one of the other two men asks and you nod, not finding your voice to actually speak.

“Get the hell out of my sight before I call the police on you,” the professor answers in a calm yet threatening voice

Victor takes a second to himself, thinking about the choices he has before he turns around and disappears in the breakroom, slamming the door behind him, leaving you in complete shock about what just happened.

Professor Styles then turns around, his eyes soften at seeing how shaken you are and quite frankly, you feel like you are in a bad and quite weird dream.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” he asks, clearly worried about you and you just shake your head no.

“I-I’m fine, I think,” you mumble out of breath.

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” the guy who asked if you’re alright suggests and you nod in agreement, following them kind of blindly, the three of them keeping you in their little circle as you walk out to the bar and they don’t stop until you are out of the place in the cold night air. You slowly come back to reality and process that Professor Styles just saved you out of fucking nowhere from your abusive asshole ex. That’s what you call a plot twist.

You finally take a moment to look at the other two guys, they both look the same age as the professor, or maybe a little older, both of them are rocking some facial hair, the one that asked you seems a little more open while the other one quite reserved but friendly looking.

“What… What were you doing back there?” you ask, turning to face the professor. He clearly seems upset, but you’re not sure if it’s entirely because of what happened with Victor back then or because you are standing outside some random bar on a Saturday night, definitely crossing his personal boundaries he keeps so high at school.

“We played here tonight, was just about to leave when I saw you.”

“You have a band?” you ask, shocked at the detail.

“A pretty good one,” the talkative guy chuckles. “I’m Adam, nice to meet you. This is Mitch.”

You shake hands with them introducing yourself as well.

“Y/N is… my student,” the professor adds as if he is clearing the air for his bandmates, a kind of warning for them.

From the direction of the parking lot two women emerge, laughing on something as they walk up to the four of you, both of them eyeing you curiously.

“Hey boys, who is this pretty girl?”

“Sarah, Charlotte, this is Y/N, she is my student. Y/N, these are my other band mates, Sarah and Charlotte,” the professor introduces you as you shake hands with them quickly.

“I-I’m sorry I interrupted your time with your friends, professor,” you shyly apologize, feeling like a complete intruder all of a sudden with all his bandmates around you.

“Interrupt? Sweetheart, that dude was about to do some unforgivable things to you, don’t apologize for needing help,” Adam snorts. “You’re lucky we were there.”

“What? What happened?” Sarah asks in confusion.

“Just… my asshole ex got a little too violent when I didn’t want to chit-chat with him,” you admit with a defeated sigh.

“Oh shit, but are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you smile faintly, though you still can feel his grip on your upper arm. “I, um… I better get going, I guess. Thank you for… the saving,” you say, a little lost about what should be said in this situation.

“You’re leaving? We were just about to go to a much better place, why don’t you come with us, forget about your ex a little?” Charlotte offers and you catch the professor’s panicked look for a split second.

“I, um… I don’t think I should, but thank you.”

“Why shouldn’t you?” Sarah questions.

“Because I know how Professor Styles hates to mingle with students outside of lectures and I don’t want to cross any lines,” you truthfully admit. The professor furrows his eyebrows.

“I don’t hate mingling with students,” he states.

“Well, you are surely not the most reachable professor on campus,” you chuckle lightly. “But it’s fine, I understand it. So I’ll just head home.”

“Come on, Harry. Let her tag along for just one drink!” Sarah begs and seemingly everyone would be happy to have you join for a little. The professor’s eyes meet yours, as if he is contemplating whether he should say yes or let you go home. When he finally speaks up you’re more surprised than when you realized it was him saving you from Victor.

“I guess you could use a drink after what happened in there,” he says, the tiniest smirk showing on his lips as your eyes shoot up.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, come on,” he nods and your little group heads down the street.

Turns out the place they were heading to was just two corners down, so they left all their stuff at the minivan at the parking lot for the time being. You slide into an empty booth, Adam and Mitch go to get the first round, so it’s just the three of you girls and the professor.

“So you’re in one of Harry’s lectures?” Charlotte asks with a warm smile.

“Yeah, for the second time, actually. Had him in first year, now it’s my fifth semester and I had no doubt I have to take his class if I have the chance.” You pay a glance at him, but he is staring at his hands on his lap, you can’t tell if it’s because he is uncomfortable with you there or if it’s something else.

“It’s so funny, because we’ve heard that he is known to be a good teacher but we never actually heard it from one of his students,” Sarah chuckles. “What’s he like?”

“Sarah, you enjoy talking about me when I’m very much present?” he scoffs, giving her a look, but she just shrugs innocently.

“Come on, I bet even you’re curious about what your students think of you. Now is your time to find it out!”

“I think Professor Styles knows very well that he is one of the best, if not the actual best,” you truthfully say and see him raise his eyebrows a little.

“What makes him so good?” Charlotte questions.

You glance at him again, as a way of asking for permission if you can answer. You definitely don’t want to make him even more uncomfortable by talking about him when he is right next to you. He looks into your eyes, and his expression tells you that he wants to hear your answer as well, but he quickly adds:

“You don’t have to answer, Y/N.”

“It’s not a secret,” you admit it with a smile. “Professor Styles’ lectures always leave you with a question to think about until next week, he is great at getting into your head without you even noticing. He explains the most complicated things in so simple ways, it should be taught,” you say with a soft chuckle. “I think his enormous knowledge about many different fields in science and just life in general is amusing, anyone can learn something from him, it’s guaranteed.”

“Wow, where is this academic genius side of yours when you’re around us, or we only get to see the dad joke version of you?” Sarah teases him and you can’t push down a laugh, imagining him cracking dad jokes feels so alien but still kind of fitting for him.

“That’s what you get when you’re a nosy little thing,” he retorts with a small smirk. He then turns to you, and as Sarah and Charlotte are laughing on something, he lowly tells you: “You can call me Harry outside of school. Feels weird that you call me professor when my friends are around.”

“You sure?”

He nods and you spot a small smile on his lips. He must be getting used to the feel of you being there, but you still don’t want to push his limits too much.

“Can I ask you something?” he questions, leaning back in his seat.

“Of course.”

“If your ex is this aggressive, why were you there with him?”

His question is surprising, you didn’t think he would ask you something personal, but you guess it’s a valid question after he just saved you from Victor.

“I wanted to get a book back that I left at his place. Didn’t even get to the point where he could have given it back,” you mumble under your breath.

“What book?”

“Just this… research methodology book, wanted it back for my thesis work, but I guess I’ll have to buy a new one,” you huff bitterly.

“Is it the one written by William Scott?”

“Y-Yeah, it is. You know it?” you ask, but then realize it’s a bit of a dumb question. He probably knows every academically important book you will ever come across.

“I actually have it myself,” he nods. Just then, Mitch and Adam return with the drinks and you thank them for the beer, already reaching for your money to pay, but Adam shakes his head.

“It’s on me, don’t worry.”

You watch as Mitch sits beside Sarah, curling an arm around her shoulders and though you couldn’t have guessed that they are a couple, seeing them like this it actually makes sense, they look cute together.

You take a sip from your beer, trying to join the conversation Sarah and Charlotte are having, when your attention is pulled back by Harry.

“I can… lend you the book, if you want.”

“Oh, you don’t have to. I’ll just get a new one.”

“No, really. I think I even have two copies, I can give one to you.”

“I couldn’t ask you that, prof—I mean Harry.”

“You’re not asking,” he smiles at you softly. “I probably won’t need both, so why not put the extra into use?”

“Okay, but I’ll pay for it,” you insist, but Harry shakes his head.

“No need, one of them was a gift so I didn’t pay for it either.”

“Well… if you’re sure about it, I would love to have that extra copy, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“So Y/N, what do you study exactly?” Adam questions, pulling you out of your little discussion with Harry.

“I’m majoring in anthropology, but I’ve been taking some psychology classes on the side just because I’m interested in the topics.”

“And what is Harry teaching you?”

“Had him for intro Sociology lecture first year, now I’m in his Methodology of Cultural Anthropology class.”

“All these subjects with their GY endings, I don’t know how you two put up with science on this level,” Sarah huffs in amusement.

“The names sometimes sound fancier than the subject itself,” you tell her smiling.

“But I bet you need to be quite smart to study these stuff on this level you are at.”

“Oh, it’s just a bachelorette degree, I wouldn’t say I’m that smart,” you chuckle shyly.

“She is totally toning it down,” Harry speaks up, catching everyone’s attention. “I know students tend to take my into Sociology class for just some extra credits so I always give them two options for the semester. They can either write a two pages long review of any article related to the topics talked about at lecture and get their strong C with the bare minimum, or actually participate and do a research of their own and turn in an at least seven pages long essay about their chosen topic. Y/N turned in an eleven pages long paper on the history of death sentences in the U.S. in the last fifty years and how society is thinking about it nowadays. It was easily one of the best works I’ve ever read and it was just an intro class.”

“You remember my essay?” you ask in complete shock.

“Of course. As I said, one of the bests I’ve read,” he nods confidently.

“So you’re like… on Harry’s smart level, actually?” Sarah asks, tilting her head to the side and you can feel yourself blushing.

You’ve always been said to be the smart kid at school, but you never thought it to be true yourself. In your book, you were just doing your absolute best, soaking in whatever knowledge was thrown in your way. You never actually understood how someone could just not study for an exam or not do an assignment, because you always felt like it was your duty to do the best you can. You thought yourself to be more of a hard-working student rather than a smart one.

“She is definitely a bright one,” Harry agrees, his eyes meeting yours as a small smile appears on his lips and you think that this is the biggest compliment you’ve ever gotten. “She actually tricked me with a psychological experiment and I didn’t even realize it,” he laughs and you can’t hold your smirk back.

“What? What did you do?” Charlotte asks, dying to know how you played Harry.

“Have you heard of the Pavlovian response?” you ask looking around and you can tell it rings a bell for all of them.

“The one with the dogs and the bell?” Mitch asks and you nod.

“Wait you did that on Harry?” Adam laughs with wide eyes and you just nod with a sly smile.

“I just offered him strawberry flavored candies every time I saw him. Took me six weeks to build up the response but he actually started expecting it whenever he saw me,” you tell them chuckling to yourself.

“And I only realized it when she stopped with the candy and I felt this massive feeling that something was missing,” Harry adds shaking his head with a soft laugh.

“Okay, that’s hilarious,” Sarah snorts clapping her hands together. “Y/N, I adore you, you’re brilliant!”

“It was just… an experiment,” you shrug shyly.

The night carries much faster than you realize. One drink turns into three and before you could realize, it’s already past midnight. Eden texts you, asking where you are since you said you’d just get the book and go home right away, but it’s been hours.

Y/N: Don’t freak out, but I’m at a bar with Prof. Styles and his friends. I’ll tell you everything tomorrow!

Eden: HOW DO YOU EXPECT ME NOT TO FREAK OUT AFTER READING THIS???!?!

Y/N: Lol, chill. Nothing extra is happening.

Eden: It’s already extra that you’re out with him.

Realizing how late it is, you decide you better get going, since it’s a long way back home. When you tell the little group that you’re about to head out, they all agree that it’s time to part ways and leave, so you all slowly make your way back to the parking lot.

“Do you know where the bus stop is back?” you ask, narrowing your eyes, trying to spot where you should be heading.

“You want to go home by bus at this time?” Harry asks.

“Well, I surely won’t pay for a ride, I live almost an hour away from here.”

“An hour?” he frowns. “I’ll take you home, come on,” he tells you, heading towards the minivan.

“What? No need. The bus is fine,” you protest, but he shakes his head.

“You are not taking the bus at this hour, not under my watch,” he simply states and you raise your eyebrows at him.

“Didn’t realize I was under your watch,” you tease him and it seems like your comment caught him off-guard. “Don’t piss your pants, I was just joking,” you tell him, and thought for a second you feel like you are being way too comfortable around him, his smile quickly smashes your doubts.

Sarah, Mitch and Charlotte all take an Uber since they live near each other and Adam is picked up by his wife, so when everyone is off to their own way, you and Harry get in the van and head to your place.

“How long have you had the band?” you ask, in need to break the silence that’s been weighing down on the two of you. “If you don’t mind me asking,” you add quickly when you see him.

“About four years. Used to have another one, but we parted ways.”

“And what do you do in the band?”

“I, uhh… Well I mostly sing but I also play the guitar.”

“You know, I’m not that surprised you can sing,” you chuckle to yourself sinking further down in your seat.

“How come?”

“You have a voice that’s great to listen to at lectures, makes sense that you can sing as well.”

You take a moment to look at his hand that’s gripping the steering wheel, he is the kind that drives with one hand on the wheel, the other one on the shifting gear. He makes it look so easy as he steers the wheel whenever he is turning a corner while his other one easily moves around the shifting gear, his tattoos are peeking from under his rolled up shirt sleeve. He catches you staring and you feel a blush burning on your cheeks as you turn your head to the other side. Maybe you shouldn’t have drunk that third beer…

“Am I really seen that rigid by the students?” he speaks up after a while and you turn back to face him.

“What do you mean?”

“You said I’m known about not mingling with students.”

“Well, you don’t mingle, do you? But it doesn’t mean you come off as rigid. More like… closed-off. Private.”

“I know I should be a little friendlier, but I just…”

“You don’t have to explain yourself, I think everyone gets it why you’re like that.”

“Do they?” he arches an eyebrow.

“Well, you’re obviously a ladies’ favorite, but it doesn’t sit well with you being a person of some sort of power. It’s clear that you don’t want anyone to get the wrong picture about you. I’ve seen how bluntly girls are flirting with you, some of them are quite scandalous if you ask me,” you huff to yourself. “I totally get it that you don’t want even just a rumor to spread about you.”

“Didn’t think I was that obvious,” he admits, running his tongue over his lips.

“Don’t worry about it, you’re still a highly fancied professor, in all means,” you tell him with a warm smile.

“Does this mean you also fancy me?” he suddenly questions and your lips part at his words. He quickly realizes how ambiguous he just sounded. “I mean, am I one of your favorites? Where do I stand in your chart of professors?”

You can’t tell for sure because of the lack of lighting, but you could have sworn there’s a light blush on his cheeks as he corrects himself. Because of this, you don’t know for sure if he really meant it academically. Either way, the answer is the same.

“You’re my favorite,” you confidently state and your eyes meet for a moment before he turns back to face the road.

The rest of the ride is pretty quiet, you keep giving him directions to your place until you finally arrive a little before one am.

“Well, thank you for the ride,” you smile at him, grabbing the door handle.

“See you on Monday,” he nods shortly and watches as you get out of the can.

“Yeah, see you, professor,” you smirk before shutting the door and walking up the stairs and disappearing in your building.

“Was that Professor Styles in the fucking minivan?!” Nat throws the question at you the moment you open the front door.

“Jesus, why are you still up?” you sigh, shutting the door and shimmying yourself out of your coat.

“Because we were waiting for you!” Eden rolls her eyes. “So, care to tell us what the fuck just happened?” The three of you get comfortable on the couch and you give them a quick rundown of your evening from meeting Victor through being saved by Harry right to him offering to drive you home and they listen to you with wide eyes in complete shock that you just spent your entire evening with the most handsome professor on campus who also happens to be the most private as well.

“If I didn’t see him sitting in that van with my own eyes I would straight up think you’re lying, but I saw his tattooed hand over the windshield,” Nat gasps, processing the story.

“I know, I still feel like it didn’t happen, but it did.”

“And what is he like around his friends? What are his friends like?” Eden questions, hugging her knees to her chest.

“He is pretty much just like in lecture, just jokes a little more and he has a looser vocab. His friends are hilarious, I really got along with Sarah.”

“I know you still think it won’t happen, but I actually think you have a shot at him, Y/N,” Eden points it out and you just chuckle.

“Why, because he saved me from my douche ex?”

“No, because he let you stay for the night with him and his friends. This is literally the first ever time a student hung out with him.”

“It’s not that big of a deal, Harry is a reserved and private person—“

“Harry?!” they gasp at the same time.

“You are now just casually calling him Harry?” Nat asks with ogling eyes.

“Well, yes, he asked me to, because it felt weird that I was calling him Professor Styles with his friends around.”

“Okay, I’m giving it… let’s say, he seems to be moving pretty slow, but y’all will be fucking in about six months,” Nat bluntly tells you and it makes you laugh.

“Oh, sure, whatever. I’m gonna shower and head to bed, you two don’t get too crazy with your fairytales,” you wave at them before disappearing in the bathroom.

The rest of the weekend goes by uneventfully, outside of the pathetic attempt from Victor to get you to talk to him, but you’ve had enough of him for a life so you finally block his number and hope you won’t ever see him again.

Both you and Eden oversleep on Monday morning, skipping your early morning lecture and already being late for Harry’s class as well, so you barely make it to Harry’s class in time, just sprinting up the rows, flopping down to your usual seats when Harry starts the lecture. It all goes as usual as if nothing really happened during the weekend, Harry doesn’t seem to be bothered by it at all. Glancing over at his desk you spot the book he promised you and you can’t hold your smile back. Still grinning, your eyes accidentally meet with his gaze and he stops for a heartbeat as if he is questioning why you are so smiley, but you just shake your head and he carries on before anyone could suspect a thing.

“I gotta run, my favorite TA is having his office hours now and I have a few questions for him. See you at home?” Eden asks once the lecture is over and you are getting ready to leave.

“Sure, have a good day!” you call after her and she sings a ‘you too!’ before running out of the room.

You pack up and head down between the rows, Harry spotting you right away and you go up to him without him even asking you to.

“Hey, sorry we were a little late to class this morning,” you tell him and he just shakes his head kindly.

“No worries. How… is your arm?” He furrows his eyebrows, his gaze wandering down to your forearm where Victor grabbed you on Saturday.

“Oh, it’s fine. I just have a little bruise,” you shrug, because it really isn’t that big deal, but you can tell Harry is still outraged by what happened.

“M’sorry about that.”

“It’s fine. Would be worse if you weren’t there,” you smile at him kindly and he nods to himself before turning to his desk.

“I, uhh, I brought the book we talked about,” he shyly says grabbing it from the desk. As people are exiting the room you can feel the glares on yourself, most of them are probably trying to figure out why Harry is talking to you for so long, but you don’t pay much attention to them as you take the book he hands you.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to pay for it?”

“No need, keep it, it’s yours,” he shakes his head with a small smile.

“Thank you then.” You slide the book into your bag before looking back up at him. “Well, I’ll see you on Wednesday, professor,” you smile warmly before heading out.

“See you!” he calls after you before you close the door behind you.

The week carries on as usual, you are working on papers that needs to be turned in before the fall break so you spend some extra time at the library, using every bit of free time you have so you finish everything on time.

Things go back to kind of normal with Harry, he greets you in the mornings when you walk into the lecture hall and other than the warm smile he occasionally gives you, nothing has changed.

Friday however brings a surprise, but not from Harry. You’re sitting at work in the afternoon, typing away on your computer, filling in some sheets when you get a notification on your phone from Instagram.

Sarah Jones is now following you!

You tap on her profile but see that it’s private so without a second thought you request following. Luckily, she approves you only a few seconds later and you gain access to her posts, quite a few of them featuring Harry on them.

Photos of birthdays, weekend getaways, band practices and performances, Harry makes a lot of appearances on her feed and you find yourself scrolling all the way down until you reach the first few posts from 2016. Just as you are about to leave her profile you get a message from her.

Sarah: Hey Y/N! Charlotte and I’ve been talking about you recently, loved having you with us last Saturday! Want to grab a drink with the two of us this weekend?

Y/N: Would love to, but I’m not sure Harry would like the idea…

Sarah: He won’t be there and besides, who is he to tell you who you can and can’t hang out with?

She is right. You enjoyed spending time with them as well and Harry has little to no word in if you want to meet up with his friends or not. This invitation has no connection to him being your professor.

Y/N: Alright, I’m down!

 This is how your friendship with Sarah and Charlotte starts. You meet up with them on Saturday and have an amazing time, they are definitely fun people to spend time with and though at first you feel hesitant to get closer to them, you soon forget about your doubts and just enjoy your time with them.

Your little girls night goes so well that they invite you out for dinner on Wednesday with Mitch joining the little trio. You learn that he is a quiet but hilarious guy, he and Sarah make a great couple, you think.

“We have a gig this Saturday at Green Light, want to come?” Charlotte asks at the end of the dinner.

“Okay, I really don’t think Harry would be a fan of that idea,” you point out, feeling like it’s surely over the lines. He still doesn’t know about you meeting some of his friends without him and you’re not sure how he would react if he did.

“Harry can fuck off, not everything is about him. We are inviting you as our friends, he just happens to be in the band as well,” Sarah rolls her eyes, clearly not as bothered by the situation as you are.

“I just don’t want to make him uncomfortable.”

“He is a big boy, he’ll get himself over it, don’t worry. So, are you coming?”

“I guess, alright,” you nod with a soft chuckle.

 Next week you contemplate telling Harry that Sarah invited you out for their gig, but at last you decide against it, something is telling you he would try to talk you down and now you’re pretty hyped to see them perform. So you keep quiet and just brace yourself for the worst when Saturday comes.

You don’t overdress for the occasion, decide to wear some light washed mom jeans and a simple sweater tucked into it, a casual look for a night out.

Even when you’re on your way to the place you are having second guesses whether it’s a good idea or not, but you tell yourself it’s not that big of a deal and if Harry flips, you’ll just tell him you came for Sarah and Charlotte.

As you get off the bus and walk towards the place, you immediately spot the little group of three next to Harry’s minivan, Sarah waving in your way as you become visible in the streetlights.

“There she is!” she beams happily and you just chuckle at her.

Harry is standing with his back facing your way but seeing Sarah’s reaction he turns around and you swear for a moment you think he is about to faint when he spots you.

“Hey everyone,” you smile as Sarah pulls you into a hug and Charlotte does the same.

“Hey, if it isn’t our little trouble seeker!” Adam teases you and you just roll your eyes at him before shyly glancing at Harry who is standing on your left, awfully quiet and deep in his thoughts since your arrival. He feels your eyes on him and his gaze meets yours and just by one look you can tell he is pissed.

Just as you thought.

The group chats a little longer outside before Adam suggests they head inside and get ready for their start and you are just about to follow them, but Harry keeps you back.

“Y/N, can we have a word?”

Staying back you nod, hiding your hands in your coat’s pockets as you look at him, lips curled into your mouth.

“What are you doing here?” he questions, eyebrows knitted together and he looks so damn intimidating, the neon lights from the front of the building tinting part of his face green, but you think red would suit him better with this look.

“I… came to see the band playing, what do you mean?”

“Is this your sneaky way of trying to come after me? Because I thought we had a very clear discussion about my thoughts regarding situations like this and you seemed to understand it.”

He comes off way angrier than you think he should be. Yes, it might be uncomfortable for him to see you here, but the tone he just hit is way too harsh for your liking and professor or not, you are not letting anyone talk to you like that when it’s completely not relevant.

“Okay, calm down. First of all, I was invited here.”

“By who?” he spats.

“Sarah and Charlotte, we met last weekend and had dinner this week as well. Had a great time and they asked me to come tonight as well, so get off of your high horse, I’m not here for you.” You can see the change on his face as the information sinks in and he realizes he accused you wrongly, but you’re not quite done with him. “But if I was here to see you, why does that bother you so much? You can’t avoid meeting students every minute when you’re off-campus. If I came here because of you, it shouldn’t affect you this much if you weren’t worried about something else than me just being here,” you point out and he furrows his eyebrows at you. “If I didn’t know better I would think you’re afraid to be around me because you actually like me, huh!” you tell him with an innocent yet suggesting look. His eyes widen and the confidence in himself quickly vanishes from him, replaced by anxiety and nervous looks as he realizes the meaning behind your words.

“I-I, that’s not—I’m not—“

“Take a breath before you pass out, Harry,” you sigh, dropping the hard act. “I didn’t come here for you and if you want to know I actually thought a lot about canceling because of you. But I genuinely like spending time with Sarah and Charlotte so I’m here as their friend.”

Harry stares back at you, completely defeated, regret filling his green eyes. You feel a little guilty for snapping so hard at him, after all you do understand his point of view, but you genuinely don’t think it’s as big of a deal as he makes it to be.

“I-I’m…”

“It’s fine, okay? Let’s just… move past it, alright?” you suggest and he nods as the two of you head inside, joining the rest of the group.

You stay behind while they are waiting for their time to perform, keeping some distance from Harry so he can’t accuse you again, but you occasionally look his way, catching him already looking at you, but you just can’t tell what could be possibly going on in his head. When it’s time for them to go on stage, you go out to the actual bar area and sit by the counter, not too much at the front but close enough to see everything that happens on the stage.

When they start playing you can’t take your eyes off Harry. His energy behind the microphone just knocks you off the stool and you watch him completely mesmerized as if he has put a spell on you. It feels like he turns into an entirely different person on stage, nothing like the man you see at lectures every Monday and Wednesday. He sings perfectly on key, putting some extra charm into the songs with his little additional tunes whenever he is not singing a line.

But what makes it absolutely impossible to look away from him is because he keeps staring at you, eyes locking with yours for way too long every time he catches your gaze. You try to ignore it, but it’s quite hard when his eyes are basically burning into you, it leaves you breathless.

Once the concert is over you order yourself two tequila shots quickly, because something is telling you that you’ll need the boosting if you want to face Harry after his little performance.

But for your surprise, when you join the band again and get near him, nothing really happens. It seems like Harry has come to peace with your presence in his little group of friends and he actually treats you like you’re part of the circle.

The six of you occupy a table at the back of the bar to spend there the rest of the evening and it’s all good, it seems. A harmless night out with a bunch of friends, nothing extra. Harry actually strikes up conversations with you involved and you feel like you’ve overcome a banter finally.

“Do you need a ride home?” Harry asks at the end of the night when everyone is about to head home.

“Only if it’s fine by you.”

“Wouldn’t offer it if it wasn’t,” he smiles shortly before the two of you say goodbye to the rest of the group and head to his van that was previously loaded with their stuff.

The ride back to your place is now much shorter, it takes less than ten minutes to arrive and you are just about to say goodbye when he speaks up.

“I want to apologize for the way I reacted to your arrival earlier tonight. It was… unnecessary.”

“It’s fine, I’m sorry for what I said after that too.”

“You shouldn’t be,” he shakes his head, staring down at his hands in his lap.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you shouldn’t be sorry for saying something that’s true.”

It feels like all air is knocked out of you as his words process and you stare at him with parted lips and raised eyebrows. When he finally looks up at you, he looks so lost and tortured, you feel the urge to hug him, but you stay still as he continues talking.

“I got mad because I do like you and seeing you outside of school is very… confusing for me. And this is why I’m gonna be very straightforward with you now. I can tell Sarah and Charlotte like you a lot and they are stubborn, they won’t see the situation from my point of view and I’m no one to tell you if you can hang out with us or not. But what I can most certainly tell you is that nothing will happen between us. I’m very serious about this, Y/N. You are very much welcomed to spend more time with us, but I want you to know that it won’t go further than this.”

For a couple of moments you’re only able to stare back at him, blinking completely frozen at his sudden confession. You could tell tonight has been a turning point of some kind, but you were not expecting this speech from him at all and now you are at a complete loss of words. It takes some time before you actually find your voice.

“Okay,” is all you can breathe out, nothing more, but it’s pretty much all you have to tell him. You won’t go against his will and force him to do something he doesn’t want. He deserves the respect.

He nods shortly, seemingly still very torn about the situation and you figure it’s better if you just leave now.

“Thank you for the ride,” you quietly tell him opening the door. “Good night.”

“Good night, Y/N,” you hear him before you shut the door and walk into your building, feeling like you’ve been just hit by a pile of bricks.

Unlike the last time when Harry brought you home, Nat and Eden are not waiting for you in the living room. Nat is probably already asleep and Eden went out for a date earlier and she hasn’t been back. You don’t bother to turn the lights on as you walk inside, just kick your boots off and hang your coat before collapsing onto the couch, just staring into the darkness, Harry’s words repeating in your head again and again.

“… I do like you and seeing you outside of school is very confusing for me.”

“… nothing will happen between us. I’m very serious about this, Y/N.”

“… but I want you to know that it won’t go further than this.”

Harry, your professor, The Harry Styles admitted that he likes you but also told you pretty forward that nothing is ever going to happen between the two of you. It still feels like a fever dream and you’re not sure how you are feeling about it just yet. Hanging out with him was already quite overwhelming, but you were not expecting this confession from him at all.

What are you supposed to do with this information? If he is so set on not taking any further steps, why did he even share it with you? He could have just easily keep his thoughts and feelings to himself and get away with it without you ever figuring it out. It doesn’t make sense.

For the first time in your life, something Harry Styles said doesn’t make sense. That’s new.

Following Harry’s confession you truly have no idea what to do, so you just go with the flow. He seemingly stays the same when it comes to you, friendly, but still keeping his distance. Nothing changes in the lecture hall, he just occasionally asks if you’re alright and you are guessing he only wants to know if you are having any trouble with Victor, but you haven’t even heard from him since you’ve blocked his number and you hope it’s going to stay like that.

You meet up with him and the band a few times outside of school and it’s not necessarily awkward, but you can tell he is keeping his distance from you, he never sits next to you or has one-on-one conversations with you, only if it’s necessary. The only time he dares to be alone with you is when he sometimes offers you to drive you home. You usually say no at first, but he insists, so you end up sitting in silence in the car until you arrive home, say goodbye and end of story.

No one in school even suspects that you’ve made your way into Harry’s group of friends, only Nat and Eden knows about it but they swore to keep it a secret, but you didn’t tell them about Harry’s confession. Whatever it is that’s happening between you and Harry, you would never put him into a situation he is trying to avoid so badly. You sit in his classes like everyone else, but while all the other girls are drooling over him, trying to get just slightly closer to him in any way possible, you sit in silence and think about the precious times when you get to see him outside of school.

Even with him being so distant towards you, you can’t help but slowly start falling for him. He doesn’t have to talk to you or be direct to you, it’s enough that you see him as himself, you see him with his friends, how he acts whenever he is not teaching, standing on the podium. And he is an amazing person, there’s no doubt about that.

The semester is gradually moving forward, once you get back from fall break, you basically move into the library, studying for your exams and finishing up all your papers. December arrives pretty fast and before you realize, the whole town is decorated with lights and Christmas trees everywhere, the shops are trying to lure customers in with all the sales and the Christmas shopping officially starts.

One weekend, when there’s only two weeks left of school before everyone heads home for the holidays, you and Nat go for a shopping trip, trying to buy every gift in time so you don’t have to worry about that at least last minute.

Wandering around the mall you naturally take a trip to the bookstore, always ready to buy something new to read. Nat dives into the cooking books wanting to get one for her mother while you’re just aimlessly looking through the shelves. As your eyes are running through the titles in the psychology department, you stop at one particular book, pulling it off the shelf as you can’t help but smile to yourself.

The secrets of Classical Conditioning.

You flip through the pages and though it doesn’t seem to be a groundbreaking work, it’s just explaining Pavlov’s experiment and further uses of it, you still decide to buy it.

That evening you sit at your desk, the book open in front of you, a pen next to it as you try to think of something to write into it. At first you just wanted to give it to Harry as it is, but you figured it would be a nice gesture to write a few words into it he could always read when he opens the book. After some consideration, you finally grab the pen and start writing.

-

Dear Harry,

I will always think of you whenever I hear of Mr. Ivan Petrovics Pavlov or Classical Conditioning. Thank you for another amazing semester and I’m happy I got to see you without standing on a podium. You are an amazing man, never change.

Happy holidays,

Y/N

-

Last week of school, you go to the Wednesday lecture, the last one of the semester with the book sitting in your bag. All through the 90 minutes class as Harry is having an open discussion about the lecture with the students, you keep debating whether you should give him the book or not. When the lecture is over and Harry wishes everyone happy holidays, you grab it from your bag and holding it to your chest you wait until there’s only a few people in the room. Eden has already left to hand in a paper so you walk down the rows on your own, eyes on the man behind his desk who is now packing up his papers and notes, getting ready to leave.

“Harry?” you faintly speak his name, grabbing his attention as he looks up at you from behind the desk. You glance down at the book in your hands and before you could change your mind, you place it down in front of him. “This is… for you.”

His gaze wanders down to the book, then back at you as he stares at you in awe, obviously surprised by the gesture.

“What’s this for?”

“Christmas gift?” you answer unsurely with a nervous chuckle. “I just saw it at the store and… thought of you.”

“Y/N, I can’t—“

“Yes you can and you will,” you roll your eyes at him, tired of hearing all these negations from him. He can’t, he won’t, he shouldn’t… for once, he definitely will if it’s on you. “Take it as my payment for the book you gave me.”

His eyes soften at you before he looks down at the book again, reading the title before he chuckles to himself.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he then finally says, accepting that you won’t let him return the gift under any circumstances.

“Have a nice Christmas, Harry,” you smile at him shyly, hands holding onto the strap of your bag as you start walking away.

“You too,” he faintly says and turning around you start walking, but then he stops you. “Y/N, wait!”

You stop in your track and face him curiously. He seems hesitant, stepping away from the desk, walking closer to you but still keeping some distance between the two of you.

“Do you… have plans for New Year’s Eve?”

“I, uhh—No, not yet.”

“If you happen to be back in town by then… Sarah is having this little get together. I have a feeling she already invited you, but if you said no because of me, I want you to know that it’s fine by me. Would be nice if you could come.”

He is right, Sarah did invite you over, but you kindly declined thinking Harry wouldn’t appreciate if you spent it with them. You wanted to give him a breather, have a night with his friends without having to avoid you all the time, but it seems like the situation has changed for him.

“You don’t have to invite me just because I gave you a gift, Harry.”

“It’s not about that,” he shakes his head softly. “I can tell you are getting along well with Sarah and all the others. I want you to know that I would never stand in the way and you are very much welcomed at any and all events.”

He seems and sounds genuine, you don’t see any sign of him just saying it because Sarah asked him to or something. No, this definitely came from him.

“Okay, I’ll… think about it,” you tell him with a warm smile. “See you around,” you wave at him before walking out of the room.

You don’t get to see his reaction to the words you wrote into the book and for a while, you’re not even sure he saw it. Maybe he took it home and put it on his shelf without even having a look into it, but two days later, when you’re already packing, getting ready to go home for Christmas, you get a notification that at first confuses you.

Breakfast is now following you!

You open Instagram with furrowed eyebrows as you go to the profile that just followed you. It’s a small account and private, of course and you almost close it thinking it’s just someone random when you see that it’s followed by both Sarah and Charlotte.

Could this be Harry’s profile?

The username is colazione8, it doesn’t give away much but now that you are thinking about it, it’s perfect if he wanted to stay unnoticed by his students that surely can use Instagram way better than him.

You tap on the follow request button and anxiously wait for an approval, hoping that the person behind the account is still online. You wait and wait, slowly losing hope but then the notification finally arrives. Your request has been approved.

You tap on the profile vigorously and three pictures appear in front of you. One is a picture of some random building, the first ever posted is a plate of nicely served breakfast of some sort and then there’s one that features the person you were desperately hoping to see.

It’s a picture of Harry sitting at a big dining table, a glass of wine in front of him as he is squinting his eyes towards the camera. You zoom into the picture just to make sure it’s him, but his features are clearer than daylight, it really is Harry that just followed you.

You’re still stalking his very private and not too eventful profile when you get a message from him, making your heart skip a beat.

Harry: Hey! Just wanted to thank you again for the gift, it’s really thoughtful. Read what you wrote in it… thank you, Y/N.

Y/N: I meant every word. Thank you for everything you did this semester!

It takes a few minutes for a response to arrive from him.

Harry: Are you already on your way home?

Y/N: Not yet, leaving tomorrow morning.

Harry: If I drop by your place in 20, can you come down for a sec?

Y/N: Sure!

Though your response seemed totally cool, you started panicking right away. What does this mean? Why is he coming here? Are you in trouble? You couldn’t be, you didn’t do anything wrong.

You quickly change out of your worn-out sweats and stained shirt, putting on a pair of jeans and a black hoodie, not wanting to see him looking like a total wreck. You sit on your bed, anxiously checking your phone every ten seconds to see if he has messaged you and those twenty minutes never seem to pass.

Then your phone finally chimes again.

Harry: I’m here.

Y/N: Be there in a sec.

You jump into a pair of trainers and grabbing your keys from the little sidetable you have in the hallway you storm out of the apartment, running down the stairs. As you walk out you stop in your track for a second, for some reason you were expecting the minivan, but this time, it’s a black Range Rover that’s parked in front of your building and Harry emerges from it the moment you step outside.

“Hey!” he smiles at you, shutting the door before he jogs around and you notice the little gift bag in his hands.

“Harry, is this what I think it is? Because you shouldn’t have, really,” you tell him right away as he stands in front of you, glancing down at the little bag in his hands.

“What? So you are allowed to give me a gift, but I’m not allowed to do the same?” he asks with a cheeky smile.

“But you already gave me one!”

“That wasn’t a real gift, so no,” he shakes his head, too stubborn to let it go. So instead, he nervously glances down at the little bag before handing it to you. “Here. Happy Christmas. But you can only open it when I’m gone, alright?”

“Why?”

“Just… please,” he breathes out and you not, keeping your curious hands to yourself.

“Alright. Well, thank you, Harry.”

“Sure. Um, have a great winter break and… I’ll see you around,” he smiles, walking around the car back to the side of the driving seat.

“You too, Harry. See you!”

You see him drive away as you walk back into the building, basically running up the stairs to your apartment, dying to see what’s in the little bag. Once you are locked in the safe haven of your room, you throw yourself to the bed and reach into the bag, finding a small box. One that’s usually used for jewelry. You pull it out with shaky fingers and take a deep breath before opening it.

Inside sits the cutest little silver ring you’ve literally ever seen. It’s thin and very detailed, tiny little strawberries lining next to each other and that’s the whole ring. Just the little strawberries, but it’s still the cutest you’ve ever seen. You put it on and it fits perfectly on your ring finger, holding up your hand you take a good look at how it sits on your finger. You’re in love with it.

Rolling to your back on the bed you stare up at the ceiling with a heavy heart aching for a man you know will never be yours, but you just can’t help it. The heart wants what it wants, right?

Reaching for your phone you type him a quick message

Y/N: Harry, thank you so much! It’s beautiful! But you shouldn’t have bought me anything!

Harry: I’m glad you like it :)

Y/N: I love it.

He doesn’t respond, just likes your message.

Christmas is always the same, especially because your family just never had those juicy dramas that could ruin any family events. Holidays have always been quiet and loving, pretty predictable. It’s good to be home again and spend quality time with your loved one, though your mind keeps wandering to a particular someone.

Sarah mentioned that Harry has traveled home to his mom and sister and from time to time you catch yourself thinking about what he could be possibly doing at the moment.

The only interaction between the two of you is when you post a photo with your sister and brother at Christmas dinner and he likes the photo, but nothing more. He doesn’t post or add to his story so you are left with your own elaborate fantasies of what he could possiblybe doing at home.

Sarah convinces you to spend the New Year’s Eve at hers and you are accepting the invitation a lot easier now that Harry has told you he is fine with you joining.

Just one day before the 31st you get back to your apartment and spend the second to last night of the year spiraling about the whole situation with Harry. Where are you two standing as of right now? Was his gift a gesture with a deeper meaning behind it?

You can’t step over the fact that you are not his student anymore. He has officially graded you and you’ve received your credits for his class, the ties are off, but he situation might still be risky and you doubt Harry is willing to change his mind about what he told you earlier. He made it clear that nothing will ever happen between the two of you, however you can’t help but feel a little hopeful that the new semester might bring a change into that.

After two hours spent in front of your closet and at least three mental breakdowns you finally decide to wear a black turtleneck dress which is just the perfect mixture of modest and sexy at the same time. You feel anxious to see Harry again, not sure how to act around him following your little gift exchange. There’s a chance he’ll just shut himself off once again and avoid you all night, you can’t tell.

Sarah’s place is already buzzing by the time you arrive, several guests are lounging in the living room and kitchen, some soft music is playing and it appears that everyone is enjoying the evening so far, judging from the laughter you hear from time to time.

“I’m so glad you came!” Sarah envelopes in a tight hug when you arrive.

“Thank you for inviting me. Here, brought some snacks,” you hand her the grocery bag you picked up on your way, not wanting to arrive empty-handed.

“Oh, you are an angel, some on in, make yourself home, take whatever you want to eat or drink!” she gestures around before bringing the bag into the kitchen.

The cozy home is already filled with a lot of people you don’t know, but you also spot Charlotte and Mitch right away so you take the safe spot in their little circle. You try your best to stay present in the conversation but you keep glancing around, looking for one particular person.

And then you finally see him. Harry emerges from the little hallway that leads to the bedroom and bathroom with Adam, seemingly deep in conversation as he nurses a beer in his hand. His checkered slacks and vintage printed t-shirt makes him appear so casual, if you didn’t know him you wouldn’t even guess that he is actually a professor.

Harry laughs at something Adam just told him and his eyes glide around the room until they find you standing near the kitchen. He stops in his track, gaze running down your figure before it returns to your eyes and he seems to be in awe, like he doesn’t entirely believe it’s you he is seeing even though he knew you’d be coming. There’s nothing you want more than to run across the room and throw yourself into his arms. You spent way too much time thinking about him during Christmas and seeing him in the flesh now is a mixture of feelings you can’t really describe just now.

Neither of you leaves the conversation you are in the middle, but you keep glancing towards each other. You’re nervously moving the strawberry ring around your finger, feeling his burning gaze on your figure all the time. You haven’t taken it down since he has given it to you, it partially made it harder for you to stop thinking about him, because the jewelry was quite a loud reminder every time you glanced down at your hands.

Two drinks later your sister calls you, as always she wants to say happy new year before the lines get hectic at midnight, so you move out to the small balcony facing the street as you talk to your sister. The spicy night air feels amazing on your heated up skin, the turtleneck dress was a good choice, but it’s definitely getting hotter with each drink, especially with Harry’s lingering eyes as well. When you end the call you decide to stay outside a little longer, take a few moments to yourself.

You jump a little when you hear the sliding door open and you’re surprised to see Harry walk out.

“Hey, thought you might need this,” he smiles softly, holding a blanket in his hands.

“Oh, thank you,” you mumble and let him wrap it around your shoulders. It provides just enough heat that your lips are not shaking anymore from the cold.

“What are you doing out here alone? Not enjoying the evening?”

“I am, I was just on the phone with my sister.”

“She’s older than you, right?” he asks and you tilt your head a little looking at him.

“How do you know that?”

“I, uhh… You have a lot of pictures with her on your Instagram,” he admits with a nervous chuckle.

“Have you been stalking my profile?” you tease him, but he clearly takes it way more serious than you intended it to be.

“No, I swear it’s not like that, I just—“ he stammers but you cut him off placing a hand on his arms that are crossed over his chest.

“Harry, I was just teasing you. It’s fine,” you assure him, giving him a gentle squeeze before you are about to pull your hand back, but his hold stops you. He takes your hand in his, gently bringing it closer to his face as he examines the ring sitting on your finger.

“You’re wearing it,” he breathes out, a small cloud emitting from his pink lips as his thumb softly runs over the ring.

“Of course. I told you I love it.”

You can’t ignore the shiver that runs down your spine at the feeling of his warm palm against yours, his thumb delicately running over not just the ring, but down your finger as well before he lets go of your hand. You already miss his touch.

“So, how was Christmas?” he asks clearing his throat.

“Good, nothing extra. What about yours?”

“Same, went home to the family.”

“Do you often visit them?”

“Not as often as I would want to, but I’m trying to go every couple of months.” Harry turns towards the street, eyes running along the not too busy road that stretches past Sarah’s building. His hand comes up to the railing, fingers slightly drumming on it. “How come you didn’t bring anyone tonight?”

“Well, my roommates are still home and I also didn’t think you’d like the idea to have another student of yours around.”

“Right, yeah,” he nods, but you can tell something else is still on his mind. “So… no boyfriend to bring?”

You give him a puzzled look. Is this his way of asking if you are seeing anyone at the moment? Because if it is, it’s kind of ridiculous.

“No, not really. I guess you can say I’m not looking for one actively.”

“How come?” he asks with raised eyebrows, his body turning towards you as he leans against the railing. You give him a ‘really?’ look. You think about getting a little sassy and teasing with him, but then decide to just be straightforward instead.

“Because I’m kind of into my Methodology of Cultural Anthropology professor.”

Harry’s lips part as his eyes pierce into yours and for a moment you really think that he is about to flip, tell me how dare you say such thing to him and curse you out, but a second passes and his gaze softens as he lets out a shaky breath.

“Y/N…”

“What? I just answered your question,” you innocently shrug, looking away from him. Despite this long and weird game the two of have been playing these past months, this is the first time you openly admitted that you have a thing for him.

“You know how complicated it is and I told you that nothing can happen.” He shakes his head in defeat, a hint of disappointment in his tone, but it just grinds your gears.

“What, so you can ask about my dating life but I can’t say that I’m into you? How is that fair?”

“That’s not the same.”

“Well I think it is. Both are highly inappropriate to bring up in our situation, don’t you think? Yet you’re trying to put all the blame on me.”

“Alright, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. Let’s just… forget about it. I really don’t want to fight with you.”

“Because you’re afraid I might actually win?” you sassily reply, crossing your arms on your chest.

“I’m just trying to do the right thing, okay? Would you… let me?”

“If you haven’t realized it yet, I’m trying really hard to stay in my lane, but you’re not making it any easier.”

“I’m trying too, okay?” he growls, clearly losing his calmness at this point. “I’m really fucking trying, Y/N, but it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do!”

“You’re the one making it hard!”

“It’s not my fucking fault I can’t stop thinking about you!”

“Well it’s not my fault either!” you snap at him, both of you raising your voice, the rest of the party oblivious about the screaming match the two of you are having on the balcony. “If you’re so set on not letting anything happen, why do you come to me and act the opposite?”

“The opposite?!”

“Yes! It’s not quite appropriate to gift your student with a ring or ask them about their dating life. Or is it all new information to you?”

“You started with the gifting!”

“So what? You could have just left it there, but you didn’t. It’s not that it didn’t make me happy, but don’t try to put all the blame on me for saying something when you’re already crossing the lines.”

Harry stares at you with a hard look and you’d pay great amounts to actually read his thoughts at this moment. His jaw clenches as he exhales sharply, eyes turning away from you, as if he couldn’t even bear to look at you.

“Make up your fucking mind,” you growl under your breath as you push your way past him and walk inside before he could get a word out.

For a well-respected, educated and smart man, Harry can act pretty fucking stupid, you think. He is not being fair and you will not apologize for anything you’ve said. If he doesn’t want anything to do with you, he needs to stay in his lane and not dance on the line, poking the sleeping lion. He doesn’t get to fuck around and then put all the blame on you, that’s just not how it works and he needs to learn that.

In the last hour that’s left until midnight you mingle with the guests and try to keep your thoughts of Harry at bay, though it’s quite the challenge since he lingers around you, keeping his eyes on you all the time, as if he is trying to piss you off or something, but you’re determined to be a mature adult and keep your composure.

You’re getting tired of this game and you’re not sure anymore if you are willing to wait around until Harry makes his mind up. Not when he doesn’t keep his own rules at least.

“Come on,” you mumble to yourself as you’re trying to open up a new bottle of wine, but the screw just wouldn’t move, no matter what you do. A hand reaches forward and wraps around the neck of the bottle, interrupting your pathetic misery.

“Let me help you.”

You let Harry take the bottle, biting into your bottom lip as you turn around and watch him easily open the bottle you’ve been fighting with the past ten minutes, he grabs your empty glass from the counter and fills it.

“Thank you,” you mumble when he hands it back and you take a sip right away. He places the bottle to the counter, fingers strumming on the surface before he takes a deep breath and speaks up.

“Y/N, I’m sorry.”

“For what exactly?”

“For the way I acted. You were totally right, I called you out for things that I did myself too, that was unfair of me.” He clears his throat, leaning against the counter with his back side as he crosses his arms on his chest. It brings out how toned his arms really are and you give yourself half a second to drool over that before you take another sip from your drink, forcing yourself to keep your thoughts under control.

“Thanks for acknowledging it,” you mumble, not sure what to say exactly. The two of you stand like that in silence, eyes roaming the guests, something clearly weighing down on both of you, but it’s hard to name and address it.

You can tell he is overthinking, the gears are almost visible, turning in that smart head of his, but you don’t want him to go into depths he shouldn’t. He really is making a bigger deal out of the situation that it already is, but it’s going to wreck him.

“Okay, I want to know, what was the worst way someone tried to flirt with you?”

Harry turns to you with a puzzled look, but you just sip on your wine, waiting for his answer.

“Um, I don’t… really keep track of it.”

“Oh come on,” you give him a look. “I know you have a story. I wanna hear it!”

Your eyes meet and he is searching in yours, trying to figure out what’s the sudden change in your mood when an hour ago you were ready to throw him off the balcony. Truth is you are just frustrated, because the situation feels so impossible. You never had to deal with such an amazing man, knowing he is into you as well, but you just can’t have him. The struggle is hard for the both of you but you can’t blame him entirely. Hating on him because he is not willing to take a risk that could easily ruin his entire life but at least his academic career is just not fair and you won’t put him through that.

Harry sees where you’re coming from and he shoots you a thankful smile before it turns into a smirk as he looks down at his hands.

“Professor Davids from the department of linguistics asked me to be her date for her ex-husband’s wedding.”

“What?” you gasp with wide eyes. “For real?”

“Yeah,” he chuckles. “She started swinging by my office all the time, trying to chat me up and then one day she asked if I wanted to go with her, that we would be staying at this nice hotel and all… she really thought it was a good idea.”

“That’s very awkward,” you laugh, entertained by the thought that Professor Davids would go so low when it came to dating. “I assume, you declined the invitation.”

“Faster than ever,” he chuckles making you laugh even louder. “Okay, your turn.”

“What?”

“I told you an awkward story, now it’s your turn.”

“Um, the worst was probably a promposal I got.”

“A promposal?” he asks with a puzzled look, his forehead creasing as he pulls his eyebrows together.

“Yeah, when they ask you out to go to prom.” “Oh, yeah. Didn’t know it had a specific name.”

“Because you are way too British,” you tease him and he just gives you a narrow-eyed look, but you can see the smirk hiding on his lips. “Well, anyway, I was dating a guy senior year, but this other one was convinced he could win me over and take me to prom. He brought a fucking mariachi band to school and gave me a serenade in the middle of the hallway while my boyfriend was standing next to me. He asked me to prom so confidently at the end of the song, like he actually had a shot but it was so painfully awkward,” you laugh at the memory shaking your head and Harry joins, finding it quite entertaining.

“He really did that to himself.”

“He did, I felt bad a little, but what was I supposed to do?”

You slip into telling more and more awkward stories, staying in the kitchen you create a little bubble, the rest of the guests don’t seem to exist as you enjoy yourself with Harry. This is the most carefree and loosest you’ve ever seen him around you and you quite like this version of him. So easy to talk to and even funnier than his usual self.

A little before midnight Sarah runs around with champagne, filling everyone’s glass, getting ready for the countdown. You and Harry join Charlotte, Adam and his wife in the corner of the living room as everyone is slowly getting excited for the last moments of the year.

Looking around you see a lot of couples, holding hands, hugging, clearly planning to snog the moment the clock hits midnight and when you glance at Harry on your right you’re convinced he is thinking about the same thing.

You’re not naïve, you don’t think he is going to kiss you, but you still allow yourself to play with the thought just a little. He is standing so close to you, just the tiniest move and you’d be touching him, skin to skin again, feel him under your—

The thought is abruptly interrupted when you feel his warm palm wrap around your hand, your whole body freezing and for a split second you think it’s just an accident, that his touch will disappear before you could even blink, but it stays there. Harry maneuvers his fingers until they are laced together with yours and he keeps a firm hold of your hand, hanging between the two of you, staying hidden because you’re standing close to each other. Your breath catches in your throat and you’re afraid if you dare to move he’ll let go of your hand.

Another version of yourself would laugh hysterically at how worked up you are right now just because he is holding your hand, but the you that’s actually in the moment is about to burst just by this small touch. You have absolutely no idea what it means or why he chose to do it, but you don’t really care about it. You just want to absorb all the heat you feel coming from him where his palm meets yours, fingers braided together tightly, as if he is trying to keep you next to him, like he thinks you are about to disappear and it’s way of anchoring you to him, but truth is you don’t want to go anywhere.

“One minute, everyone!” Sarah sings in excitement as she turns on the TV and puts a huge clock on the screen that’s counting the seconds as well. You shyly glance to the side, finding Harry standing motionless next to you and when he notices you looking, his eyes meet yours. He looks terrified, like a lost little boy and you can’t tell if he is afraid of your reaction or because of what his actions might bring on him. But you want him to know that you are completely okay with where it’s heading.

“Ten! Nine! Eight!” The countdown begins and you inch closer to Harry so you’re pressed against his side, his body heat radiating into your skin even through the layers of clothes you two are wearing.

Harry leans down the moment you lift your head, his face is so close, it wouldn’t take much for you to finally kiss him, do the one thing you haven’t stopped thinking about for months.

“Y/N…” he breathes out and it’s a tortured plea, he is begging you to stop him from doing something he might regret, but you are dying for him to finally sin. You want him to give it up already, you have absolutely no desire to be the burden that keeps him in his lane. You need him to cross the line and stay there.

“I’m not stopping you, Harry,” you tell him quietly, the urge to close the distance between the two of you is burning inside you.

“Seven! Six! Five!” the countdown continues, but it all tones out, you can only see, hear and feel Harry.

“We can’t,” he whines, closing his eyes as he exhales shakily.

“We can, we just shouldn’t,” you correct him, his eyes snap open and meet yours again. You can tell he is so close to finally giving in and let his feelings and desires take control and you will not try to stop him.

His face inches the tiniest bit closer and his forehead is almost touching yours now, you can see every curly eyelash that frames his gorgeous green eyes that are now filled with fear and nerves.

“Four! Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!” Everyone screams together as the clock finally hits midnight while you just stare at Harry holding your breath, praying that he is finally ballsy enough to take this step.

“Harry, please,” you beg, not too proud of it, but you just can’t take it any longer. His hand is gripping yours tightly as he closes his eyes again and for a second you think that it’s gonna happen. He is going to give up the act and finally kiss you.

But right when the moment is burning the most… he pulls back and your heart sinks.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his hand lets go of yours and it feels like your arm is ripped off, tears are welling in your eyes.

“Yeah, me too,” you mumble under your breath, chugging down the champagne before making your way through the living room, determined to leave as soon as possible.

“Y/N, wait, where are you going?” you hear him calling after you, but you don’t stop. You get rid of the empty champagne glass and grab your coat from the rack, storming out of the apartment as if you had somewhere to be.

Tears are streaming down your cheeks as you run down the stairs, almost tripping over your own feet. You hear the other pair of feet running behind you and Harry calling after you, but it’s not stopping you.

You push the front door of the building open, but it’s heavy, so it slows you down just enough that Harry can grab your wrist when you are about to start running down the street.

“Y/N, don’t go, let me explain!”

“No!” you snap at him. “I don’t fucking want to hear your explanation! I’m done, Harry! I’m fucking done! I was trying to be patient and respectful, I didn’t want to make it worse for you and let you do your thing, but you kept dancing back and forth and I can’t keep doing this, so I guess I’m sorry too.”

You’re choking on your own words that echo from the walls, the street is almost entirely empty, the world is still celebrating the new year while you’re at your breaking point. Harry stands in front of you, defeated and panic all over his face as he listens to you.

“I will not sit around and let you play your little games any longer, because you can’t make up your mind whether you want me or not.”

“Y/N I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life!” he snaps, throwing his hands into the air. “That’s the problem! This shouldn’t be happening, but I can’t fucking stop thinking about you, I can’t stop wanting you!”

“Then do something about it!” you beg through your tears.

“I can’t!”

“Yes you can!” you scream at him. “You can but you probably just don’t want me enough to actually do it! And it’s fine, but—“

You don’t get to finish your rant because Harry firmly grabs your arm, yanks you towards him and with one swift movement, his lips are crashing against yours.

It all happens so fast but your body reacts before your mind could process what’s really happening, fists bunching a handful of his sweater as you pull him against you, his hands flying up to your face, cupping them confidently as he kisses you hard and demandingly.

It’s like a fucking dam that’s been broken, everything you both kept bottled up and under control just breaks loose and it’s a kind of a wild fight for trying to devour each other now that all lines has been crossed an blurred into nothingness.

He is the dominant one, but you do some pushing and pulling on your own as well. You’re forced to take a few steps backwards, back arching at how forcefully he is pushing forward, lips smacking against each other over and over again, his tongue meeting yours, swirling and dancing around with yours, a shameless moan escaping your mouth.

His hands roam down your sides and you jumps when they reach the back of your thighs, legs wrapping around his waist. He keeps you up easily, fingers digging into your flesh where your butt meets your thighs and this angle allows you to be completely pressed up against him and feel every single inch of his body that burns for you.

It’s beyond anything you’ve ever imagined, you’re not sure it’s because of the build-up that led to this point or simply the chemistry you two got, but it blows your mind, making you question how you could go this long without ever kissing him.

“Harry, I want you,” you moan when his lips move down to your jawline, kissing and biting on the soft skin, tasting you wherever he can reach.

“I want you too, Y/N,” he breathes out resting his forehead against yours before kissing you again.

“Take me home then.”

“Are you sure?” he pants as you run your fingers through his hair and tug on his gently, earning a whimper from his perfectly pink and swollen lips. You love this satisfied dew on his face, especially because you know it’s because of you.

“Never been more sure about anything in my life.”

You unwrap your legs from around his waist and return to the ground, but not without him leaning down to kiss you once more before he grabs your hand and starts pulling you down the street. You spot his Rover right away and start sprinting, Harry following you right behind with a carefree laugh.

Settled in your seats he starts driving, but you can’t keep yourself away from him. His hand that’s not on the steering wheel is gripping your thigh as you lean over the console and start kissing his cheek, jawline and the corner of his mouth as one of your hands runs down his chest until it reaches his pants.

“Love, if you move further down we’re gonna crash,” he warns you with a shaky breath. “I drank a little too and I’m already fucking gone from kissing you, if you touch me I’m gonna lose it.”

You giggle, pressing one last kiss to his lips before sitting back in your seat. You need every bit of your patience and self-control to stay modest on the way back to his place. Hands gripping his you bring it up to your lips, kissing his knuckles gently as he speeds down the empty streets. It’s still barely over midnight, everyone is still celebrating, oblivious to how important this moment is to the two of you.

You really thought this would be the end. When he pulled away at midnight all hope was lost for you and it broke your heart to know that he will never choose you over his better judgment.

It’s your first time at Harry’s but you don’t really care to look around as the two of you make your way inside the townhouse, lips already melted together as you stumble through the dark hallway, not wanting to let go of each other. You successfully make it into his bedroom and Harry turns on the bedside lamp while you’re already eagerly getting rid of your coat and shoes. He does the same, clothes start to litter the hardwood flooring hastily, but neither of you is thinking about them. Harry scoops you into his arms once again, kissing your lips passionately as he bunches your dress up at your hips until he can finally grip the end of it and pull it over your head.

“Oh shit!” you giggle, the turtleneck getting stuck on your head for a moment before you’re free from it.

“That big head of yours,” he chuckles kissing your forehead.

“Shut up,” you smack his chest gently, pushing him down to the bed so you can straddle him, knees on his sides as you sit on his lap, lips meeting again.

He throws his hands up when you start pulling his t-shirt up and once the fabric is off of his body, his arms wrap around you, pulling you close to his chest. Your skin meets his and it feels heavenly, only little clothing separating the two of you at this point.

Harry scoots backwards and then throws you to the mattress, getting on top of you without your lips ever parting. His hips are pushed against yours and you can feel everything through the thin material of his slacks. Without even knowing you grind your hips, your core meeting his erection in the movement and he moans uncontrollably at the sensation.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he breathes against your lips and you can’t push your smirk down at his reaction.

“Yeah, fuck me, Harry,” you tease him before your lips get occupied once again.

His hands work fast. He unclasps your bra without you even noticing, the straps falling from your shoulders before he gets rid of it, throwing it across the room as if it did something against him. When his hungry eyes fall down on your naked chest you see the same kind of torture in his eyes that was there when he was fighting with himself before.

“Harry, stop thinking,” you tell him, fingers massaging his scalp as you lace them through his hair. “It’s fine, we’re fine.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he questions again and you pull him down for a reassuring kiss.

“One hundred percent. I want this. I want you.”

“Oh God, I want you so bad,” he whines again, lips kissing down your jawline, neck and collarbone before they attack your breasts.

He cups them, licks and bites them, making you a whimpering mess underneath him every time his tongue meets your hot skin. This man will be the death of you. As he moves down your body, his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties and he glances up at your for reassurance once again, you nod eagerly, lifting your hips so he can easily glide the fabric down and off of your body. Harry sits up, eyes burning down on your naked body lying in front of him as he undoes his own pants, pushing them down his long legs until they join the rest on the floor. You push yourself up when his hands move to his boxers, you want to be the one to take them off. He gladly backs his hands off when you reach out and start tugging them down. He kneels on the bed as you pull the fabric down and his erection finally becomes free, making you ache for him immediately. Once the boxers are out of the way completely you want to reach out to touch him, but he stops you, hands wrapping around your wrist before they could reach him.

Your eyes snap up to meet his darkened gaze, questioning why he stopped you.

“Y/N, I… If we do this, there’s no going back,” he breathes out with a pained look. You push yourself up to your knees so you meet his height, hands cupping his cheeks as you pull him into a sweet kiss that he hesitantly but returns.

“I know what you think about us, Harry, but I assure you, that I’m completely fine with it. But if you don’t want it to happen, we can just… lie here. I’m fine with that too. Kissing you was already such a gift for me,” you smile at him, gently pecking his lips.

“I just don’t want you to wake up and regret it. I’m not pushing you, right?”

“If anyone, it’s me pushing you,” you chuckle softly, a small smile tugging on his lips as well. “You didn’t push anything on me, alright? We are both adults and it’s completely fine. We’ll figure out the rest, I just want to focus on you now. Can I do that?”

Harry nods, still looking a little unsure, but you can tell he is starting to settle in his mindset. It’s not just him that worries about the other regretting something. You know how torn up he is about anything that’s about you and though you want him more than anything, you still don’t want to push him into doing something he is not entirely comfortable with.

“Do you want this?” you softly ask, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“I do. I’m just—“

“Then it’s all good, Harry. We both want it, nothing else matters for now,” you tell him, wanting nothing else than to finally see him enjoy himself entirely. “Lay down for me,” you tell him, feeling like you taking the lead is a good idea now.

He does as you asked him to, lying down on the mattress, head sinking into his pillow as he blinks up at you, watching you swing a leg over him before settling to sit on his thighs.

“Can I touch you?” you ask, wanting to make sure he feels completely comfortable with you. Pleasing him is your number one priority right now. He nods, lips parting as he watches your hand reach out and wrap around the base of his erected length. He whimpers under your touch, his eyes fall closed when you gently pump him a few times, his cock fits so well in your palms, like pieces of a puzzle.

Leaning down you kiss his fern tattoos on each sides of his hips before placing one to his leaking tip, sliding your hands to the base before you slowly and gradually take him into your mouth.

You’re not planning to make him cum with your mouth, but you’ve been dying to taste him and it’s just as good as you imagined. The way his body reacts to your touch, the noises that leave his kissable lips, this man is completely out of this world and you want to explore every inch of his body.

You bob your head a couple of times, just enough to wet his length and work him up for what’s coming next. When you let him go of your mouth and you move a little up on his body so that his cock can be lined up with your hole, you look at him to see if he is still down to continue. One hand holding his cock, the other one flat on his naked chest, you ask him a question with your eyes that he answers with his hands squeezing your hips.

“I have the implant. Do you want to put on a condom?” you ask him at last.

“I trust you,” he breathes out. “Do you want me to put one on?”

“I want to feel you,” you tell him shaking your head.

“Okay,” he nods so it’s settled.

Leaning down you peck his lips one last time before you push the head inside and then slowly ease yourself down on his throbbing length.

“Oh fuck!”

“Harry, oh my God!” you both moan at the sensation of him finally entering you. You’ve had your fair share of sexual intercourses throughout your life, but none of them felt this good. None of them pleasured you this good so fast and easily, just the feel of him being inside you is making you lose your mind.  

You start off slow, wanting to feel him just right, get used to his size, but as soon as you feel more comfortable, you pick up a faster pace. His fingers are digging into your flesh at your hips as he holds onto you for dear life, panting and moaning at your motions. He glides in and out of you perfectly, setting your senses on fire practically.

“Harry, you feel so good,” you gasp, getting lost in the feeling. Sex has always been a good experience for you, but with Harry it’s a whole different story. As if he just opened a completely new world you never even knew about before.

“Yeah? You’re gonna cum for me?”

“Yes! Oh fuck!”

Harry pushes himself up, an arm coming around your back as he easily flips the two of you over, your back gently hitting the soft mattress. He holds himself up above you, lips crashing with yours as he starts to do the work this time, thrusting in and out of you, his hips smacking against yours forcefully as you both nearing the end.

“You’re making me lose my fucking mind, Y/N,” he cries out, head falling to the crook of your neck and you wrap your arms around him as a shield, holding him tight against you.

It doesn’t take long after that. He is hitting just the right spots, making you moan his name over and over again as your orgasm slowly devours you and washes over your whole body while he is still relentlessly moving.

“Harry! Oh… Fuck!” you gasp, legs and hands shaking and you clench your muscles around him, throwing him over the edge with you. He falls out of his rhythm, his cock twitching inside you as he moans against the hot skin of your neck, coming undone in your arms.

Nothing has ever felt this intense and mind-blowing and you’re now sure you’re addicted to him, there’s no turning back, not that you want that.

He collapses on top of you, still inside you, his body weighing down on you heavily, but it feels just fine. You run your arms up and down his sides, kissing the side of his head as you are both trying to catch your breath. It takes a few minutes for him to come back to reality with you, he lifts his head and moves to the side so he is not crushing you anymore, but an arm remains thrown over your abdomen. His vibrant green eyes are shining like never before when they meet your tired gaze and cupping his face in your palm you pull him in for a slow kiss where you finally have the time to actually taste him without the rushing of your own needs and urges.

“How are you feeling?” you softly asking, knowing well how major this was for him. You wouldn’t want him to spiral and start to self-destruct because of what just happened.

“I’m feeling fine,” he murmurs lowly, his fingers dancing on your naked side. “Just still a little torn if I did the right thing.”

“You worry too much. We did nothing wrong.”

“Not sure everyone would agree with that.”

“Fuck everyone else,” you chuckle and a smile tugs on his lips as well. “I will not feel bad for having the best sex of my life with a hot as fuck man I’m really into,” you bluntly tell him, earning a smug grin.

“Best sex of your life, huh?”

“Not even ashamed to admit,” you nod into the pillow. “How… was it for you?” you shyly ask, afraid his answer might disappoint you. But Harry pulls you closer until you’re pressed up against his chest, his lips capture yours, kissing you fiercely, making your heart skip a few beats for sure.

“Fucking amazing, baby. Probably the best I ever had too,” he admits, lips brushing against yours as he speaks. A satisfied sigh leaves your lips as you nuzzle against his chest once he has rolled to his back.

Silence comes over the two of you, you’re listening to his steady heartbeat, mindlessly drawing patterns over his chest. Lifting your head your eyes meet his and you can tell he has been thinking hard about what this all means for the future now.

“I’m in,” you simply tell him.

“Huh?”

“If you are thinking that I might not want to do this with you, that I just wanted a good fuck, that’s not what I think of this. If you want to give us a chance, I’m totally in.”

“You think we can make it work?” he quietly asks, his voice barely more than just a whisper.

“Of course,” you smile at him warmly. “You don’t?”

“I do, I’m just… there are so many things that can go wrong.”

“Then… we’ll make them right.”

Harry breathes out through his nose, clearly having a hard time to take it as easy as you do and you wish you could magically make all his doubts go away.

Sitting up you put your hands on each of his sides, looking down at him determined to bring out his confidence in the two of you.

“We just have to be patient and careful until I finish. Then we are basically free. That’s just one more semester. It could be way worse, we can make it work for a couple of months before we can finally do whatever we want. That doesn’t sound that bad, does it?” Harry shakes his head, reaching up he tugs your hair behind your ear before running his fingers down the side of your face.

“So we are really doing this?” he breathes out, a small smile on his sweet, pink lips.

“Well, I’m surely not giving up on this, we came a long way to be here,” you chuckle. “Question is, are you gonna give up on us? On… me?”

“Hell no,” he chuckles softly as he shakes his head. You smile down at him and leaning down you peck his lips tenderly.

“Then… we really are doing this.”

SEQUEL: 🌊 AN OCEAN AWAY 🌊

-

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

[bakugohoex]

“good girl, spread your legs more, you want me to make you feel good?”

pairing: katsuki bakugo x female reader

cw: aged up, nsfw (corruption kink, age gap, fingering, nipple play, biting and sucking, kissing, praise, virgin reader, unprotected consensual sex, office sex, finger sucking and jaw grabbing), talks about men being perverted as well

word count: 4,000+

information: corruption collab hosted by @ultimate-astridwriting​

a/n: had such fun writing this, hope you guys enjoy this and check out the collab to see the other fics

summary: in which bakugo has always been infatuated with the pure guise you put on, when you come to his office late at night, how can he not resist the temptation of ruining something so sweet?

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He hated it, hated how in a single look you could have him under a spell. You were supposed to be his sidekick, his little pure sidekick. But the way you sauntered throughout the office in the early morning of June made him think of you differently, think of how those pure eyes had something so much more to them. He watched how the tight leotard fitted just above your hips, he had often seen the other sidekicks stare at your body.

He knew you never meant any harm with your costume, it made it easier for you to use your quirk and stay regulated by the commission. The way the top of your collars were open showed a glimpse of your chest as the short sleeves made your arms almost glisten in the sunlight. Bakugo played with the pen in his hand as he watched you smile happily with some other much older sidekicks.

Ever since you arrived a couple months back, it seemed like every single member of Bakugo’s agency had fallen under your innocent guise. But how pure could one little girl be, hell you were only a couple years younger than the man, but the fresh face you brought to his agency was an unknown presence.

Sidekicks seemed to fan around you, love every part of you. You spoke with such purity, as if you’d never experienced anything adult ever. You chuckled at some idiot's joke as he continued to stare, leaning back in his chair as the vest top allowed his arms to breath. Bakugo hated the look of lust his sidekicks gave; you were supposed to be his little sidekick nobody else’s. What gave them the right to look at your vulnerable self and think they deserved to even talk to you?

He watched as you walked closer to his glass doors, you easily dismissed the men who surrounded you as soon as you knocked on his door. “Come in.” He muttered, dropping the pen as you gave a soft smile to the man.

“Good morning Sir, I collected your mail as I arrived.” He hadn’t noticed the envelopes in your hand, hearing the formalities that he hated as you stood at the door waiting to be told to sit down.

He put his hand out for the mail you so kindly collected from the side; it was never your job, but you seemed to always love helping the man. “Sit.”

You followed his order passing the mail as you sat straight, legs clenched together and hands sitting on your thighs. Such a pretty picture he knew how men would long to have a woman like you waiting for them like this. He shook his head skimming through the mail, some from other hero agencies, some other shit he didn’t care for. “Is this all, Sir.”

“I told you not to call me that.” He scowled sternly.

“Sorry Si…Bakugo.” You quickly stuttered on your words sitting firm as his gaze looked you up and down.

He chucked the mail to the side, leaning on his arms to get a closer look at you, “you can leave now.” The presence you brought about was sickly, he almost felt disgusted being around you, but it was something he craved to fix. He wanted to ruin that smile, ruin the makeup you wore, ruin your thighs and neck.

You quickly nodded your head before walking out of the door, but you stopped at his door frame, “Bakugo.” He looked up to meet your gaze again, “you’ll be coming to the dinner tonight.”

It wasn’t a question rather than a plea for him to attend, one of his sidekicks was having a birthday dinner and he had so kindly asked everybody to attend along with some of his own friends. Bakugo looked back down at the papers before meeting your eyes again, “some shitty extras birthday is the least of my problems.”

It was all you needed to hear for you to leave his office, he watched you walk away almost sad that the man wasn’t attending. It was your first time getting together with your colleagues and Bakugo wasn’t attending. You had heard about the rising pro hero when he had just freshly graduated UA and you were in middle school, ever since you’d become infatuated with the man.

He had a shitty personality from his teen years but as you watched him grow and heard the UA teachers speak highly about the famous graduating class who had fought villains since their first year. How could you not respect the man and now getting the opportunity to be around him, work alongside him made your heart beat harder.

The day went by without any more word from Bakugo, he went on patrol with some of the older sidekicks whilst you got stuck with other fresh recruits on your own little patrols. Bakugo had noticed the tense look you gave him; he was going to attend the dinner, but he really had just wanted to see your reaction. The way you didn’t meet his eyes when he walked past you, but as soon as he wasn’t looking you’d stare longley at the man. Bakugo had to admit that your quirk was exceptional, the way you easily fought villains on one of the first patrols he’d been on with you was amazing. He saw the raw talent you had for this, the way you’d be able to move past being a sidekick and create your own agency.

Bakugo truthfully knew that you’d become a lot bigger than he was at 19, that your talent would be noticed, and he’d lose you. His eyes skimmed to the darkness in front of the panned-out glass, he saw how most had left for the dinner and others had left for their own patrols. He watched how the sky was filled with bright lights, the way each building housed another story. He heard a knock making him turn, he had expected you to have left by now but instead you were standing in your normal clothes, the short skirt and tight shirt that made your figure show even more than he had expected.

It was the first time he had ever been alone with you, even in his office there had always been watchful eyes staring at the interaction with the angry pro hero and the sweet sidekick. It sounded cliché in his head, but he watched how you stayed beside the door frame encase he told you to fuck off.

“Bakugo.” You whispered softly, he saw how your bag was held tightly in your other hand, you had a small smile as you looked for any sign he was letting you inside.

He beckoned you inside, watching how you stayed in full view of him, he hadn’t realised how tight your shirt actually was. How it accentuated your chest to make them almost spill out of your shirt, he hated the thoughts that skimmed through his head. For years, his only thought was to become the number one pro hero, of course he wasn’t a virgin, having had many one night stands in his time. But the lust he had for you, for you to be pushed against the glass of his office made his head spin in excitement.

“What do you want?” He questioned as he watched you take a seat in front of him, he licked his lips waiting for an answer as you dropped your bag to the side.

He waited for an answer, you soft eyes giving him a tender look that he wanted to ruin. He craved to have you in his arms, on his cock but you spoke some sweetly like a pure virgin would, so careful with your words. “I didn’t want you to be alone on a Friday night.”

It was sweet, sickly even how you took pity on him. He hated it, giving you a snare as you looked down, he was about to speak when you continued, “I didn’t want to go to the dinner without you.” His eyes almost softened as your own did, but he regained his composure tapping his finger against his thigh as he looked at your smaller fragile frame.

“Why?” It was a simple question, but you seemed unable to answer it, he watched as you stayed in thought thinking of an answer, but he beat you too any response, “scared to be without me, aren’t you baby girl.”

His words seethed with malice, you felt mocked and disgraced you were unable to form the words to say he was wrong. Because he wasn’t, you were scared to be without him, scared to be in a room with men who had eyed you up on multiple days. He saw the worry that flashed as you tensed up, were you really that scared to be left in a room with them. He sat up moving to stand in front of his desk as he leaned against it, arms muscles on show as you didn’t meet his eyes.

“I should go.” You spoke hesitantly, but he leaned forward, hands on the chair as he trapped your body between his own.

His breath skimmed onto your face as he stared down at your fragile self, you were a pretty little porcelain doll for him to break. He moved one finger to touch your chin forcing you to look at him, you finally met his gaze feeling so small in front of him. “Bakugo.” You breathed out heavily, he imagined this breathless was from him pounding into you making him groan in frustration.

“What is it, spit it out princess?” He was toying with you, every word filled with a lust to ruin you in a matter of seconds.

His finger forcing you to look at him as your breath was heavy, “I didn’t want to go, they make me all uncomfortable.” It was a confession of the fear that you had to the men, Bakugo looked down, his eyes glazed with a type of discomfort at your own comment.

“I’ll tell them to stop.” He was going to stick by his word, but it was more for his own sake then anything else. He wanted them to stop so only he could have you, only he could think disgustingly dirty thoughts of you. You nodded but his finger stayed firm on your chin, “do you want me to stop?”

His question brought you to think of the prior actions of the past couple of months. They way he’d bark orders to the sidekicks whenever he saw them getting too handsy with you, the way he’d stand in between you and another man letting you beside him only. The way that he allowed you into his office without a growl to tell you to fuck off, it all came down to this moment. He may have not explicitly stated he wanted you like the others, but it had always been a lingering feeling.

“I don’t.” You shook your head looking at his lips, he licked them before grabbing your jaw up making you stand up. He let go of your jaw, the lingering miss of his touch as he went and sat on his chair, the way he spread his legs, his arms ready to divulge into you made you squirm.

He patted his lap, as you followed his instruction, your skirt riding as you situated yourself on his lap. One arm around your waist as the other skimmed down your mouth to your jaw and that’s when the question occurred. The one where you could decide if this was what you really wanted, “you want me to fuck you baby girl?”

You looked down at his lingering hands ready to either leave your chest or caress every part of your body. “I want you.” It was a whisper and Bakugo gave a soft chuckle at how stupidly quiet you’d gotten.

“Speak up, doll, or I’ll have to leave you to sort yourself out.” He was dead serious in his comment waiting for a proper reply to the question.

“I want to do this.” You spoke more loudly; his hand cupped your breast from on top of the shirt as his other hand gripped your side before his lips met your own.

Your hands moved to his cheek, kissing him softly but he had other ideas. He brought your body closer, wanting to feel your cunt clench against his thigh as he kissed you. His tongue gliding inside at the sign of one of your moans, one of your hands moving to grab the back of his neck.

You knew you had to tell him, it’d be wrong of you if you didn’t and it would make him know that you weren’t just looking for a hook-up. As you let go of his hair, your hand still around his neck as you breathed heavily into his mouth you confess something that could end whatever this was. “I’m a virgin.”

“I assumed.” He spoke moving his mouth to your neck, he hadn’t even thought to care about it, he was going to have you if it was the last thing he’d do.

You gave a soft moan as your hands played with the ends of his blond locks, “and you don’t care?” You questioned as his teeth nibbled on your neck, the sound of sucking and his tongue lapping against your neck heard throughout the room.

“Should I?” He had been admiring the purple bruises across your neck too care about the look of worry you had on your face, “my pretty little Y/n, what did you think I’d be so crude as to take your virginity and not want something else from you.” He moved his mouth to your ear sending a shiver down your spine as he continued, “once I fuck you and you cum on my cock, this cunt belongs to me and only me, okay?”

“Okay.” You replied obediently, Bakugo couldn’t wait to ruin you.

He went in for another kiss, watching how one hand rested on his bicep as your other landed on his chest. “You're gonna be a good girl for me.” He spoke parting ways as he took the shirt off of your body, seeing how you face flushed at feeling exposed. “Don’t hide yourself, pretty girl, I’m going to make you feel so good.”

Bakugo knew how scared you must feel knowing this was your first time in an unconventional setting, but even then he wanted to make it good for you. Make you remember your first time as something amazing that brought you pleasure rather than the pain of it all.

You nodded as you moved your hands away, his mouth moving to your neck as his tongue licked right down to where both your breasts parted. He unclipped your bra, the snap making you look down to meet his eyes as he sucked on one of your hand nipples. You could almost feel your underwear begin to soak through, glad Bakugo was wearing the baggy trousers.

The sucking of your nipples filled the room before, he let go easily bringing you up onto the desk. He saw how your skirt lifted up, exposing the cotton underwear he had been wishing to see. Your back rested against the hard wood as he looked at you with watchful eyes, “good girl, spread your legs more, you want me to make you feel good?”

“P…please make me feel you.” Your words echoed in his ear as he dragged the skirt down your legs, chucking it on the floor before moving your underwear to the side. Slick coating the fabric as he dipped his fingers into your clit, it sent a shiver as you tried to hide a moan by biting your hand. His hand moved to grab it away, holding it down as he brought his chair closer to your exposed body.

“Pretty, pretty thing, you going to let me ruin you now, let me stretch you out.” You were ever so submissive, so eager as he strung you along with every word.

His fingers moved past your clit as it circled your cunt, before divulging your insides. He let two fingers begin pumping back and forth as he watched how your heavy moans filled the room. He knew that if someone came walking into the doors both of you would be caught but why should he care. It's his agency and you were his pretty girl.

“Katsuki.” The way his name rolled off your tongue sent a surge for more from Bakugo as he inserted a third finger pumping in and out through the slick.

He heard the way you moaned heavily gripping his other hand whilst your other gripped the edge of the table. He continued with his actions, before feeling your cunt clench against him, “you want to cum princess, cum on my fingers…go on.” The coil inside of you had almost felt pressured to release at his words.

You’d never cummed before and the feeling that came with it brought you on a high, he watched you give a hefty moan of his name and a swear before gushing right onto his fingers. “You gonna keep this all inside.”

It was a command you’d happily follow as his fingers were still coated in slick. You looked eagerly at his fingers that he was about to put in his mouth, but the way you looked at them, in an instant he knew what you wanted. “Dirty thing aren’t you, you want to taste yourself.” Bakugo sucked one of the fingers leaving the other two coated in you, saliva went down the third before he stuck all three into your mouth.

You sucked the cum and spit from his fingers feeling like a whore for doing something like this, Bakugo enjoyed the feeling of your tongue wrapping around his fingers. As much as he wanted to feel your mouth on his cock, for your first time he wanted to please you and make the innocent girl not so innocent anymore.

His fingers came out with a pop as your cunt leaked out cum onto the table. He took his vest off, your eyes widening at the true extent of Bakugo’s body before he undid his trousers. You could already see the bulge, but you had no idea it was truly a good size cock. Anything could satisfy you at this point, he watched how you leant against your elbows watching him strip. It felt like your very own show, his eyes lingered across your frame, the smell of cum and sweat soaking the air.

He chucked his trousers to the side before doing the same with his boxers. His blushed tip and much larger cock twitched upwards, he pumped up and down as precum dribbled down to his thighs. You knew that what he had was a lot larger than average, your mouth watered as you felt an urgency to have it inside of you.

“Please…inside me.” You could barely even speak, Bakugo smirked at the effect he had on you aligning his cock right to where your cunt was.

“So needy, keep begging.” His cock lingered in place as he waited for more.

You mewled more pleas before he heard something that made his cock twitch, “please…Sir, please I’m your good girl.” You spoke through a broken voice as you had begged for his cock.

“This is going to hurt.” You knew it would and as he  began to push his cock inside of you, tears welled up as they trickled down your face, black mascara staining your eyes as he felt a sadistic enjoyment from this. “There you go, let me all the way in, pretty girl.”

His praise meant the world as he was glad to have stretched your cunt out with his fingers prior, but even then the extent of how much you could take was limited. He felt suffocated around you as you continued to sob, Bakugo bent down to meet your eyes. “You’re doing so well baby.”

He wiped the tears as he kissed you again, he wanted to fill you right up before thrusting, make you feel suffocated and filled up. It would get rid of the pureness, get rid of everything innocent that men had been attracted to. “I’m…doing good.” You whispered through the kiss, loving and appreciating the praise you were getting.

His hands cupped your cheek as he gave you a smirk, “you’re doing amazing baby girl.” He kissed the side of your jaw as he felt all of him stuff you full. “You ready?”

“Yes Sir.” You whispered back hands locking into his hair as one of his hands had gripped your thigh to bring it up. The much easier access had allowed for him to begin thrusting in and out of your cunt, slick and your previous cum helping him as he felt swallowed inside of you.

Bakugo knew how he was with sex, brash, fast and lustful but at this moment with you. He was nothing but loving and caring, making sure you felt pleasure. He met your eyes, how you looked at him with such admiration before you leant forward through his thrusting, “You okay?”

You gave a small moan at his question as the pain had turned into pleasure, each thrust ridding the pain. You knew why you had stayed a virgin for so long, you were waiting. You didn’t know who for, but at this moment in time, you knew it had always been for Katsuki Bakugo.

“Fuck.” You whispered as his pace quickened, he watched your eyes roll to the back of your head as he felt himself touch the back of your uterus. The way his cock had left a bulge into your stomach as he was able to see himself fill you entirely, “fa…faster.”

He obeyed your wish as he thrusted faster and deeper, every moan making him groan loudly in your ear. “Doing…doing so well princess.”

His leant his forehead against your own as you both took in each other’s presence, his thrusts becoming sloppier as your moans became louder. “You gonna cum on me.” You nodded eagerly as even though you felt tired you still had the strength to look right up into Bakugo’s scarlet eyes.

You felt the coil in your stomach re-release as cum gushed out in one hefty swipe, “fuck Katsuki…” You breathed heavily, tears flooded down, mascara ruined, hair dishevelled. Bakugo continued to thrust waiting for his own oncoming high, he knew he hadn’t used a condom but at this moment he wanted to fill you right up.

“Can I?” He whispered into your ear, trailing kisses down your neck to your collarbones, his thrusting leading to squelches forming in the room.

“I’m on the pill.” He didn’t bother asking why, even though through your moan and rolled out eyes he could only assume it had something to do with your quirk. You laid on the table, moaning as Bakugo thrusted back and forth, you felt empty but the love and passion he had as he groaned your name at every thrust brought you pleasure.

His mouth moved to suck on your collarbone, the more bruises to show who you belonged to. Your hands moved to his back as long scratch lines formed until you felt Bakugo cum right inside of you. The feeling of being filled to the brim as even more cum was being stuffed inside of you, you had heard him moan your name as his head was on the crook of your neck.

“You did so well baby girl.” He whispered, slipping his cock back out as he looked at your body and face. He grabbed your jaw to make you look at him again, “this well tell those stupid extras to not look at what’s mine.”

You softened at his possessiveness as you felt him give your temple a sweaty kiss. His lips lingered as he admired how you looked. The pure innocent girl that had arrived in his office would be leaving as the cum filled stained girl that now belonged to him.

i’d really appreciate if you guys could leave a like, reblog or comment, thanks x

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[bubblyhoney]

can i request a fic where sapnap takes the reader to his hometown? like the classic going to places he went to when he was younger. maybe playgrounds and ice cream shops idk

places i used to go

warnings: language of course, an allusion to virginap, my uneducated guess of what sapnap was like in highschool, tiny detail of long haired!sapnap, singular canon detail of underage drinking, jokish about marriage

tags: sapnap x gn!reader

words: 2191

A/N: you are a god, anon. i love comfy and nostalgic fics like these and it was so fun to write. if you hate it dont tell me but if you like it lemme know akskdjd

inbox/requests: open

-

The wind whips fast on your bare fingers, cool and quick and raising goosebumps in its wake. You blink in the haze of the early sunset, head lolled to the side of the headrest. It feels good.

“That’s where I went to high school.” Sapnap interrupts your thoughts and points a finger at a collection of tall brick buildings down a side street. The silver of the lettering is dull, but you can still feel the nostalgia.

“And you’re about to see the park that me and my friends used to hang out at after work and—actually, nevermind.” His arm drops to the middle console and he looks straight ahead with slightly pinker cheeks.

“Do what?” You ask, voice all sweet, and a grin grows on your face. You turn towards him and wiggle your eyebrows.

“Nothing. Homework.” He avoids your eye contact and hikes his hand up higher on the steering wheel. “Anyways— Do you want to get some food before we head out? I know a great place.”

You two were just coming to a close on your little trip to visit his family; it was his step-mom’s birthday and you decided to make a week of it. It was your first long-term trip with Sapnap, and also your first time meeting his dad’s side of the family. You were proud to say she loved you. His little sister took a little more effort to talk to you of her own volition, but soon enough she was on your side.

You have a couple hours to kill before making your flight back home, so Sapnap has taken it upon himself to give you a quick tour of his hometown.

“Yeah,” you decide, bottom lip popped out. “Can we get ice cream after?”

“Uh, duh.” The Neighbourhood’s Stargazing starts through the speakers and he reaches to turn it down. “I’m so ready to get home and sleep.” He stretches his neck in his seat, letting out an uncharacteristically inappropriate grunt when his bones pop. You make a disgusted face, nose wrinkling, but stretch your own back, slumping down in the seat. The day had been full of packing up and this horrible hike his dad liked to do early in the mornings, so you two were pretty beat.

“Okay, we’re here,” he announces three sleepy minutes later in his best attempt at a whisper. Lifting your head off of the corner of your seat, you blink in the setting sunlight as a yawn splits your face. “You’re so cute.”

“Shut up,” you mumble, and struggle to get your seatbelt off in that post-nap haze. You’d barely been asleep for thirty seconds, damn it. The air is a swampy heat when you step out of the car onto rocky gravel and nearly twist your ankle climbing over the curb. Sapnap catches you by the lower back, trying to hide his laugh but failing miserably. You slide him a dirty look, smacking his shoulder as hard as you can manage while limping towards the front entrance.

The door jingles when you two breach the doorway, alerting a bored-looking hostess that the circus has arrived. She looks at Sapnap a second longer than she should, eyebrows screwed together in silent confusion. But she leads the two of you to a booth near a large window, handing you sticky menus and promptly fucking right off to the host station. She nearly runs.

“Do you know her?” You ask, inconspicuously hiding your face in the search for their 24/7 breakfast menu. You feel his eyes on you.

“Don’t think so.” He leans on one elbow and slides his phone out of his jeans’ pocket. In the 25 seconds it takes for you to find their french toast and sides menu, he has browsed and closed his phone with an animatedly shocked look on his face.

“What?” You give him a weird look and put down the menu.

“I totally went to homecoming with that girl.” He eyes the hostess. You glance over at her again, meeting her gaze, and offer a polite smile. She turns away quickly, eyes wide.

“She’s cute,” you say, voice high and fake, and he drums his fingers on the tabletop as an amused look makes its way onto his face.

“Are you—?”

“What?” You reply right back.

“Nothing.”

Thank God the server comes up to your table then and starts asking for drink orders, or else you’d have to admit (sheepishly) you were a tiny eensy-weensy bit annoyed. Only a tad. But after requesting a Dr. Pepper and a water the conversation surrounding the nervous-looking hostess dies.

“I’m so hungry I think I feel my stomach shrinking.” You flop your head onto your arm on the table top and make a whiny noise into the stack of napkins your server left at the table. Sapnap rubs his thumb into the side of your forearm, touch warm and nearly dissolving the pangs of hunger and jealousy.

“You weren’t hungry an hour ago.” He lifts your hand to his face and plants a kiss on the back of it. Oh, pulling out the big guns, huh? “I would have made you something.”

You tilt onto your chin, pouting, and stare up at his cute face. His cute, scruffy, perfectly-kissable face.

“I think I got hungry staring at you for half an hour.” A mischievous grin grows on your previously-petulant face and he just shakes his head.

“I do have that effect,” he admits with cockiness in his tone, lifting his eyebrows and leaning back into the booth with his lips pursed.

The server returns with two glasses and takes your food orders onto their little yellow notepad. You chug the water down when they leave for the kitchen, getting your lap and chin thoroughly wet in the process. Sapnap just snorts at you and shoves the napkins your way.

“So,” you start, patting dry your jeans. “tell me what you were like in high school.” You cross your arms and settle into the booth, smirk on your lips.

“What I was like?” He parrots, sipping at his soda, looking thoughtful. “Firstly, a virgin.” You make a noise. Duh. Dude had a buzz cut his junior year. (You’ve seen the pictures. His step-mom particularly likes them.) “Secondly, I was actually— well, I wasn’t popular, but I had a lot of friends. We were all semi-athletic lonely band kids but we had fun. Had one girlfriend senior year but she went to Cal Tech in the fall and I didn’t. I, um, worked at a Dairy Queen in the summers and gained so much weight I had to lose all over again for Unified Track.”

“Relatable,” you comment, drinking noisily at your water. He fiddles with the paper straw wrapper and crunches it up into a ball. It goes soaring into your drink with a quiet “Kobe” and you just give him a look. He smiles toothily right back at you. “Stop being cute, I’m trying to listen to your story.”

“Oh, my bad,” he mocks. “Anyways. That’s what I was like in highschool.” You fish the paper ball out of your water and flick it wetly at his arm. It sticks and you choke on a laugh, cheeks puffed.

Two plates of warm food are set down loudly onto the table and you thank the server with a surprised smile, Sapnap mirroring you.

Two minutes of wordless chewing passes, minds occupied just by “food, me eat” instead of anything related to your previous conversation. You realize that Sapnap is one of the loudest chewers ever, and he realizes that you fail to notice the streak of maple syrup in your hair.

“C’mere,” he mumbles through a mouthful of omelet and hash browns and beckons you with his hand. You lean closer, chewing slowly, as he pats a napkin at the strands of hair trapped in syrup.

“Thanks, baby.” You take the napkin from him and pause your assault of the warm french toast before you to clean the sticky sugar out of your hair. He just watches you, half of a smile on his lips.

You two finish your food in record time. It’s borderline vacuum-like. There’s a short grace period where you just sit like two lazy cats, slumped down in the booth and holding your full stomachs. But the check comes soon after, and you both pay your way and are out of the restaurant without any mad dashes for the bathroom. A miracle, really, because of the American-like amount of butter you both consume.

“I’m a much more functional person now,” you mutter into the cotton of his shoulder, swinging your hand in his. He just hums in agreement.

“I guess we’re not getting ice cream, then,” he teases, and you just groan in response.

“I don’t feel like having diarrhea on a plane, unfortunately.” You sigh heavily when you have to split and get into your respective sides of the rental car.

The entire trip (somewhat roundabout because of the amount of side quests to show you things from his childhood) to the airport Sapnap is a chatterbox. He’s like this when he has sugar: either bouncing off the walls with energy or talking your ear off.

“That’s where my dad proposed to my step-mom. I was kinda young but I remember being surprised at how big the ring was— dude broke the bank for her.” It’s a little gazebo you catch a glimpse of through the trees in a park. It probably was an incredibly picturesque moment, and you can sense how much she must have loved it. With just meeting them this weekend, you can already see how much love those two have for each other.

You hope people can see how much you love Sapnap.

“Oh my God, it’s still there.” He points out the side of your window to what looks like a Dairy Queen that has been through World War 3. “My buddy Eric and I once spilled a gallon of that liquid ice-cream-shit all over the men’s bathroom.”

You shoot him a horrified look. “Why was it in the bathroom?”

He just smirks.

“—And that’s my Uncle Ron’s house. Had my first beer there.”

“And last, hopefully,” you add, pulling a disgusted face. The two story bungalow is cute, and one of your favorite colors: olive green. “That shit is nasty.”

He just shrugs and continues down the side street.

“Is this the park you were talking about?”

He pulls into the gravelly parking lot of a small clearing of tall trees, a picnic table and campfire sat squat in the middle. But he doesn’t respond, just turning the car off and climbing out. He reaches the passenger door without speaking, and opens it for you. You climb carefully out, confused.

“Come on.” He takes your hand and starts for a small path to the left of the picnic table. The mid-sunset shade envelopes the both of you.

“I hope this isn’t where you kill me.”

“No,” he snorts. “I just wanted to show you something.”

It’s just a few moments of stumbling through the damp underbrush before you’re coming face to face with a small, mossy pond that sits right underneath an incredibly old willow tree. He stops right on the edge of the rocky path and turns toward you.

“This your make out spot?” You ask between a grin as he snakes an arm around your waist and tugs you flush to him. Your innocent smile fades when you feel the press of his lips to the side of your neck, light and ticklish. Oh.

“No,” he murmurs, and just breathes you in. “I came here once—the night before I graduated highschool. And I told myself when I really really loved someone I’d take them here with me.” He sways with you in his grasp, a gentle and song-less dance.

You grip his shoulder tighter in your hand and lean into him.

“That’s— awfully romantic, huh?” Your voice is quiet. Almost nervous. He just makes a noise of agreement.

“So here we are.” His voice is the opposite of yours, all strong and confident.

You two just move together for a moment. The sun breaks through the tree canopy, shining bright orange down onto the glassy surface of the pond. Crickets and frogs chirp back and forth as the willow vines swing in a cool evening breeze. You watch nature come alive around you, suddenly grateful for the man in your arms.

“Don’t propose,” you whisper, breaking the gentle tension. A laugh breaks the silence and he’s pulling away to look at you. Maybe in disbelief. A strand of hair falls into his eyes and you brush it away, fingers stilling on his temple and sliding down onto his cheek. Stubble scrapes against the skin of your palm and he stares at you through those meadow eyes.

You realize in that moment that he is exactly himself. Of course he is. He’s Sapnap, and everything that encompasses that. Dark and light and fiery and cool. He always has been, and always will be.

You realize you wouldn’t mind if he proposed.

-

A/N: ask or send me some stuff!! requests, rants, anything. let me know what you think

[myriadimagines]

Chips and Orange Soda

Brooklyn Nine-Nine One Shot

Pairing: Reader x Jake Peralta

Other Characters: Raymond Holt, Rosa Diaz

Warnings: theft

Summary: When a series of bodegas are robbed, Holt assigns Jake and Rosa on the case. You, a cashier, become a suspect, but Jake has a gut feeling that you’re not a suspect at all. In fact, he thinks you’re the key to solving the case. 

Part Two: Chips and Orange Soda (part ii)

Word Count: 2,697

A/N: my submission for @locke-writes​​‘ writing challenge! i know everyone wanted me to post the whole fic at once but then it ended up being 5k+ words i made the executive decision that it was probably best for everyones sanity to split it up into 2 parts. think of it as a commercial break in the episode <3 i’m gonna disclaimer this by saying that i’m not a cop or in law enforcement. idk how this shit works. i tried my best but this isn’t legally accurate. anyway! based on the prompt: “You come here often?” “Well, I work here. So I think I’d have to say ‘yes’.” 

reblog/feedback/comments are very much appreciated!!!

“Not late! I’m not late!” Jake announces, rushing into the briefing room with his bag still slung over his shoulder. He ignores the eye rolls from Amy and Terry, and plops down in the seat Charles has saved for him. He leans back, dumping his bag on the floor as he tries to catch his breath, before noticing Holt’s disapproving stare. “I’m not! Look, I’m right on time!”

Jake points over at the clock hanging on the wall, and Holt glances over his shoulder before turning back to Jake. “You’re fifteen minutes late, Peralta. That clock broke down two days ago.”

Jake takes a proper look at the clock, which, sure enough, is frozen at three minutes past two o’clock. 

“Okay, well…” Jake cringes. “I had a flat tire?” 

“As I was saying,” Holt ignores Jake’s excuse, reorganizing the case files on the podium as the squad quickly focuses. Pulling up a few pictures on the television, Holt curtly explains, “Two bodegas were robbed last night, and we suspect it may be the same person, or group or people, who robbed the three bodegas last week. Thankfully, no one was injured, but we need to crack down on this case before it happens again.” 

The squad nods in agreement, and Amy taps her pen against the desk as she takes notes. Gesturing towards Rosa, Holt asks, “Diaz, you were investigating last week’s robberies. Where are you in solving the case?”

“Nowhere, sir.” Rosa begrudgingly admits, folding her arms across her chest as she shakes her head. “Forensics dusted the place for prints but found nothing, and the security footage was crap. Couldn’t pull any good images because it was so old. All I know is that it looks like at least two individuals are involved.” 

Holt slowly nods, pressing his lips together as he deliberates this. Pointing at Jake, he orders, “Conduct some interviews around the block, see if anyone saw anything. Perhaps you’ll have more luck this time. And take Peralta with you, you’ll be able to cover more ground. Everyone, you’re dismissed.” 

Jake looks over his shoulder to exchange a nod with Rosa before everyone gets to their feet. Holt closes up his file, and quickly stops Jake before he can leave the room, “Oh, and Jake?”

Jake pauses in the doorway. “Yes, sir?” 

“While you’re out, you can get some new batteries for the clock.” Holt points back at the defunct clock. Raising an eyebrow, Holt continues, “So next time, you can actually take a look at how late you are.” 

Beside him, Amy can’t help but snort at Jake’s expense, and he resists the urge to roll his eyes. 

—

Jake jogs over to the bodega, a cup of coffee in hand from the nearby food cart. He ducks under the police tape bordering the store, and he gingerly steps around the shattered glass scattered on the pavement. He can already see Rosa inside, taking off her sunglasses and hooking them on the collar of her shirt, and he can see that the forensics team have already marked up the scene. Rosa looks up as Jake approaches, and she informs him, “This one’s different from the others; they actually broke in instead of picking the lock. Otherwise, they took all the cash, and it doesn’t look like anything from the inventory was taken.” 

“Which is kinda weird, considering this place has pretty cool chip flavors and orange soda.” Jake points to a nearby shelf, and Rosa shoots him a look. Shrugging, Jake looks at the rest of the shelves and the fridge as he mumbles to himself, “I’m just saying.” 

“Security footage from this whole week is missing too.” Rosa continues. She groans, shaking her head as she takes another glance around the scene. “I don’t know how we’re going to get anywhere with this.”

The two of them make their way back outside, where a small crowd is now lingering outside the store, curiously trying to peek inside as the cops try to corral everyone. Pointing at them, Rosa suggests, “Maybe we can find a witness.” 

Jake follows her gaze, quickly sweeping over the individuals before his gaze lands on you. Your eyes momentarily meet, but you quickly look away and turn your attention back to the smashed glass. You’re cute, Jake thinks to himself with a grin, all bundled up in a denim jacket that, and when you turn to look at something over your shoulder, he can’t help but notice has a cool design of some planets stitched on the back. Rolling back his shoulders, Jake holds out his cup of coffee, and he says, “Allow me to handle this, Rosa,” 

Rosa rolls her eyes at the annoyingly confident tone Jake quickly adopts, and pointedly refuses to hold Jake’s coffee for him.

“Alright then,” Jake awkwardly takes his coffee back, and he gulps down the rest, fanning his tongue as it burns his mouth. Tossing it aside into a nearby trash can, Jake quickly composes himself, readjusting his jacket before approaching you. He offers you his hand, and you hesitate before shaking it, and Jake introduces, “Hey, I’m Detective Peralta. Cool jacket, by the way.”

“y/n.” you introduce yourself with a small smile, shaking his hand before you pull away to self consciously tug at the sleeves of your jacket. “And thanks. My friend made it for me as a birthday gift.”

“Nice,” Jake grins at you, before gesturing over his shoulder. “You come here often? It’s a pretty awesome bodega.”

“Uh, well, I work here.” you slowly respond, and you can see something in Jake’s expression falter as his cheeks get red. You bite back a smile as you continue, “So I think I’d have to say ‘yes’.”

“Cool, cool, cool, cool,” Jake nods, fumbling to come up with a response. His palms suddenly feel sweaty, and he scrambles to think of his next question. 

“I’ll let our owner know, by the way.” you pipe up, and Jake blinks at you. Nervously chuckling, you add, “That you think the bodega is awesome. He’ll appreciate it.” 

“Oh!” Jake laughs, and you can’t help but smile. Gesturing to the store, Jake continues, “I’ve gotta say, your snack selection is the best I’ve ever seen. I mean, you’ve got every flavor of everything in there! Also, any place that carries orange soda is automatically awesome in my book.” 

“Well of course,” you respond with a smile. “It’s the best flavor!” 

“Right?!” Jake perks up, and the both of you dissolve into laughter before Jake looks over his shoulder and notices Rosa glaring at him. Quickly clamming up, Jake attempts to focus himself, and his eyes widen as he remembers the fact that you work here. “Are you the cashier or something?”

“Yep.” you nod, stuffing your hands into the pockets of your jacket. “I just worked yesterday, too. I can’t believe someone robbed it last night.” 

“What time were you here until?” Jake asks. 

“The shop closes around midnight, and I was the one who locked up.” you answer, shifting your weight from one foot to another. Jake can’t help but notice as you momentarily break his gaze, and you glance at the store before back at him. “Usually our owner, Gabriel, closes up, but he’s been sick this past week, so I’ve been helping out.”

“Got it,” Jake nods, mentally taking note of all this information. The both of you look up as Rosa joins in on the conversation, and Jake continues, “And I’m assuming you didn’t see any sign of suspicious activity before you left?”

You shake your head, uneasily glancing over at Rosa as she looks at you. “Sorry, Detective.” 

“No, you’ve actually been super helpful.” Jake reassures you, and he offers you a friendly smile that puts you at ease. You relax, and Jake continues, “It helps us roughly estimate when the crime took place. Do you know anything about your security footage, by the way? This is my partner, Detective Diaz, and she noticed the footage was somehow erased.” 

Something in your expression shifts, and Jake can’t quite read the look on your face. Rosa narrows her eyes at you, and after a pause, you respond, “I think our cameras have been down.” 

Jake and Rosa exchange an uncertain glance, and you can feel your stomach twisting into knots as you know they don’t look convinced. The atmosphere becomes intense, especially as you feel yourself under Rosa’s stern gaze, and Jake quickly tries to lighten the mood as he tells you, “I think that’s it. Thanks for answering our questions, y/n.”

You nod, and Jake’s eyebrows furrow as your gaze lingers on him, your lips moving as if you want to tell him more. But you stop yourself, taking in a deep breath, before responding, “If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know.” 

You turn on your heel, and Jake watches as you head down the block. He looks over to see Rosa studying you, before she shakes her head. “I don’t like it, Jake. They seemed suspicious to me.”

“They were just nervous.” Jake finds himself defending you. “And probably a little frazzled, too. They were the last one in the shop, if they had stayed any longer, they could’ve been in danger.” 

“Or they could have something to do with the crime.” Rosa counteracts, and Jake lets out a sigh. Leaning towards him, Rosa continues, “I know we don’t have solid evidence, but I just have a feeling something’s up, Jake. Plus, it doesn’t help that you were flirting.” 

Jake gapes at her. “I was not flirting!” 

“Look, we need to solve this before Holt gets on my case about it.” Rosa insists. Jake lets out a sigh, before glancing down the direction you walked, and he can just barely see your figure heading into the subway station. 

“I’ll be right back.” Jake tells her, and before Rosa can stop him, he jogs after you. By the time he’s entered the station, he’s terribly out of breath, and he manages to catch you before you enter through the turnstile. “y/n!”

You look up upon hearing your name and you pause as Jake stops in front of you. He bends over, trying to catch his breath, and you patiently wait for him. Through heavy breaths, Jake manages to puff out, “Yeah, sorry, super unfit. The chips and the orange soda clearly don’t help.” 

Jake tries his best not to cringe at what he feels like is the lamest joke he’s ever made, but to his surprise, you laugh. A genuine laugh, not a cruel, teasing one, but one with a wide smile that makes Jake feel like he’s on top of the world. Tilting your head, you manage to say in between chuckles, “You’re pretty funny, Detective.” 

“Call me Jake.” Jake insists, finally regaining his breath, and you grin at him. “Hey, any chance I could get your number? For professional reasons of course, in case we need to contact you again. Or I could just give you my number if you feel better doing it that way.”

You seem hesitant, but you nod. He fumbles through his pocket, pulling out an old receipt and a pen that barely has enough ink in it, and you scribble out your number before handing it back to him, “I work every day but Tuesdays, too, so you’ll be able to catch me at work if you need me.” 

“Got it.” Jake nods, tucking the receipt into his pocket. “Thanks for your help, y/n.”

The expression that Jake can’t decipher crosses your face again, a look of pensiveness, of hesitation. But you shake it off, quickly plastering on a smile, and you nod, “Have a good day, Jake. And… good luck.” 

—

Jake and Rosa sit in the break room, a laptop open between them as they flip through countless CCTV videos from the blocks nearby the bodega. Rosa becomes increasingly aggressive with the keyboard with each video she clicks through, and Jake impatiently shakes his head. He groans, rubbing his fingers up against his temple as he complains, “This is killing me. If I have to look at one more minute of another grainy video, I’m going to lose it.”

Rosa rolls her eyes, leaning back in her chair as she folds her arms across her chest. She kicks Jake’s chair with her boot, and she points out, “This is all we have, Jake.”

Jake sighs, but nods. Rosa had interviewed some people in the neighboring apartments, some of which reported hearing smashed glass around three in the morning, but hadn’t called it in on the assumption it was a clumsy accident from a downstairs neighbor. It at least gave them a time of the crime, but as Rosa unfortunately pointed out, it didn’t give them much else. The CCTV didn’t seem to pick up on anything interesting, no speeding cars, and a brief moment of footage that might’ve captured the suspects only showed their retreating backs. The forensics team had also swept over all the evidence from the bodega, but had yet to find anything incriminating, not even a single fingerprint which could help lead the investigation somewhere. 

“These guys clearly know what they were doing.” Rosa grumbles, jabbing her finger into the screen. “They know to avoid all the camera spots.” 

“I hate smart criminals. Why can’t they all be dumb and just make it easier for us?” Jake whines, and Rosa rolls her eyes. 

“Have you talked to y/n lately?” Rosa asks, and Jake shakes his head, hoping Rosa doesn’t notice the faint blush that lights up his cheeks at the mere mention of your name.

“No, Rosa, who do you think I am? That’s way too forward.” Jake scoffs, before his expression turns serious. It’s been a little over a week since your interaction, and he looks at Rosa before continuing, “Unless you don’t think it’s too forward. Should I text them?”

Rosa resists the urge to punch Jake’s arm, and she deadpans, “Talked to them about the case, Jake, not for a date.” 

“Right.” Jake nods, clearly flustered, and Rosa rolls her eyes again. Wiping his slightly sweaty palms on his jeans, Jake corrects himself, “No, I haven’t talked to y/n.”

Rosa leans her elbows forward on the desk. “I think we should call them in again. You know, see if there’s anything we can get out of them. Kind it seems like they’re the only lead we have.”

“You don’t still suspect them, do you?” Jake asks, eyebrows furrowing, and he lets out a sigh as Rosa shrugs. Shaking his head, Jake insists, “I really don’t think it’s them, Rosa.” 

“Jake…” Rosa starts, shooting him a look, and Jake quickly waves his hand, brushing her off as he already knows what’s coming next. 

“Alright, I’ll reach out to them, see if there’s anything more they can tell us.” Jake reluctantly says, and Rosa nods. Pointing back at the computer, Jake asks, “Does this mean I can stop watching these boring videos?”

“Fine.” Rosa grumbles, angling the laptop towards herself as Jake grins. He grabs his jacket hanging off the back of his chair, and he sneaks one last glance at the grainy video before darting out the room. He pauses, his eyes narrowing, and he points at the screen. 

“Wait, what’s that?” Jake points at the corner of the video, where a figure rushes down the street. Rosa squints, and she pauses the video for Jake to get a better look. His eyes widen, and his expression pales slightly, and he asks, “What time was this footage from?”

“Five in the morning.” Rosa replies, checking the timestamp. Looking up at Jake, she asks, “Why? What is it?”

“Nothing.” Jake hurriedly remarks, and Rosa frowns. Before she can demand an answer from Jake, he’s already rushed out of the break room, swiftly exiting the bullpen as he dodges Terry on his way out.

It’s not nothing, but Jake knows he can’t tell Rosa that. Not when the figure in the video was wearing a distinctive denim jacket with planets stitched on the back.

tag list: @myfriendmagislit​​ / @thedamagedcne / @real-fbi​​ / @writinqss​​ / @thisismysecrethappyplace​​ / @natalia-helena-alianova-romanov / @dontjudgemepeepswrites​​ / @hauntedpocdreamer / @locke-writes​​ / @lgbtonystarks​​ / @fangirlsarah16​​ / @kittensanddarkclouds​​ / @randomfandomimagine​​ / @ofthedewthesunlight​​ / @bravelittlesunflower​​

[kuroopaisen]

heart attack || bokuto koutarou

➵ your hot roommate likes to walk around without his shirt on. 

wc: 2.8k

warnings: implied f!reader, swearing, pure chaos

a/n: @stelleum jac darling, happy birthday! i tried writing you shipfic but i chickened out and wrote this instead (mayhaps i’ll finish the bkak fic one day, but for now it will sit in my drafts hh). i’ve already wished you a happy birthday so i won’t write you an essay here (although i’m fully capable of it), but i love you, and i’m so grateful to be counted amongst your friends. you bring such light and laughter with you, and i honestly feel like i’ve learnt a lot from being your friend. i hope you find this fic delightfully chaotic (just like you), and that it manages to make you smile a little -- you deserve nothing less (also big shout out to remy and ren for reading over this disaster fdsljk)

“he’s doing it again.”

“huh?” oikawa’s voice crackles from the other end of the phone.

“he’s walking around the house shirtless.”

it takes oikawa a few seconds to catch up. “oh, right. your hot roommate.”

you two have had this conversation many a time over the past two weeks. you’d quickly surmised that bokuto koutarou would be the death of you. probably by heart attack. oikawa had found that idea stupid.

“what do i do?” you ask, chewing on your lip.

“you could always ask him out.”

you scoff at the absolute certainty in his voice. “how dare you assume i wouldn’t shrivel up and die if i so much as attempted that?”

you don’t need to see your best friend to know he’s rolling his eyes at you. “why would you shrivel up and die?”

“what if he says no?”

“he’s not going to say no.”

“but he could.”

“you’re hot, it’ll be fine.”

“but you haven’t seen him, tooru,” you huff, waving off his assurances like they’re nothing. “pictures don’t do him justice.”

“i can’t believe you’re an adult…” oikawa sighs.

“you’re one to talk.”

“at least i can talk to people i find attractive,” he grumbles.

“he’s going to be a professional volleyball player,” you stress. “you know what they’re built like.”

“you were friends with us all throughout high school, and yet i don’t remember you ever talking about any of us like this.”

“the only one of you worth talking about is iwaizumi.”

a moment of silence. “that’s fair.”

“anyway, that’s all besides the point,” you grumble.

“do the other guys know about this?” he asks. you don’t like the playfulness in his voice.

“as a matter of fact, they don’t.”

“why not?”

“if i told them, they’d meddle,” you stress. “directly.”

“you can’t stop me from telling them.” you can tell from his voice that he’s grinning.

“i’ll block your number and never speak to you again.”

oikawa doesn’t need time to decide that it’s a viable and realistic threat.

“wait, are you hiding in your room again?” he asks.

“duh.” you roll your eyes. “i wouldn’t be talking about this in the living room, would i?”

---

meanwhile, bokuto’s sitting on the couch, quite shirtless as he twiddles his thumbs.

when kuroo had first told him that the best way to win his roommate’s heart was to ‘just walk around shirtless,’ bokuto had been a bit doubtful.

of course, kuroo hadn’t won the heart of his partner by walking around shirtless, but boukto was loath to completely disregard his friend’s advice. he does, after all, have a partner, so perhaps following his advice isn’t the worst idea.

but you’d scurried into your room almost immediately upon catching sight of him, and bokuto fears that he’s frightened you.

he likes to consider you friends. sometimes you’ll watch movies with him -- on occasion, you’ll even commit to a full anime series (even though he needs you to explain what’s actually going on half the time) -- and there’s a certain ease of conversation between the two of you. in his mind, it’s only natural that he should develop a little bit of a crush. 

unfortunately that line of common sense didn’t follow through to the next step of actually asking you out. 

---

your sheer embarrassment goes head-to-head with your insatiable hunger and loses.

you peek through a crack in your door, trying to ensure that the hallway was clear. perhaps you could survive seeing him in the front room, but an encounter in your cramped little hallway was bound to end in humiliation.

you manage to skitter into the kitchen quietly, every one of your senses on high alert for the enemy (see: bokuto koutarou’s god-like body). 

you spy the back of his head on the couch from your new vantage point. if you’re quiet enough, chances are he won’t notice that you’re in the kitchen. if the universe really gave a damn about you, then it would let you be invisible for a few seconds. 

“hey!” bokuto calls from the couch, holding a hand up.

“hey,” you mumble as you make an active effort not to look at him. damn him and his masterfully sculpted biceps. they’re almost enough to make iwaizumi jealous. almost.

you dash over to your pantry, opening it up and rifling through a couple shelves. you don’t have the mental or emotional fortitude to stand around and cook a proper meal right now, so the next best thing is instant ramen.

“whatcha looking for?”

you almost shed your skin in fright.

there’s a warmth hovering over you, and you’re far too aware of what it is.

“something to eat.” you can only hope that those words came out legibly.

“oh, yeah, there’s not really much,” he shrugs, tilting his head at you.

you’re still not looking at him. has he done something wrong?

“ah,” is all you can muster in response.

“did you want to order in?” bokuto asks, a certain lightness to his voice. it’s similar to the tone he uses when he wants to pick what you guys watch on a saturday night.

“uh—” oh no. “i—i don’t—um—”

what are you trying to say? you don’t know. bokuto has no chance of deciphering it.

but, he simply beams at you. “i’ll pay!”

sure, he has more money in his bank than you could ever dream of having – damn professional athletes and their egregious pay checks – but you still don’t want him to pay for you.  

“it’s okay,” you manage to say, holding up a hand to wave it off. 

you don’t expect him to take said hand. 

“please, let me treat you,” he grins. “as a thanks for helping me out with the bills last week.”

ah. that’s right. bokuto may be a sports star in the making, but he’s horribly lacking in the common sense most people rely on to make it through the day. 

“okay.” 

it’s very hard to say no to him when he’s looking at you like that, with his golden eyes all big and round and his fluffy hair falling around his face. damn him. 

you let him fiddle away with one of the delivery apps – you admittedly aren’t paying much attention to what he’s ordering – and entertain yourself with the bare walls of your kitchen. 

maybe you could sneak back to your room until dinner came? 

“how was your day?” bokuto asks brightly, effectively trapping you in a conversation. 

shit. 

“uh– fine?” you swallow. “my lectures felt like they wouldn’t end, but i survived.” 

“good thing you did,” he beams, tilting his head at you. 

you blush, trying to ignore just how handsome he is. “how was practice?” 

sure, you want to turn your tail and run, but you really don’t want to hurt his feelings. 

“it was good!” he grins. “tsum-tsum’s been less annoyed with me recently!”

“oh, that’s great!” you mean it. from what you’ve heard about his team, this ‘tsum-tsum’ seems like he’s the sort of person who’s hard to keep up with. 

“he almost gave me a compliment today,” bokuto said, voice brimming with pride. 

“really?” ‘tsum-tsum’ doesn’t seem like the type to give compliments, but bokuto always has a way of seeing the best in things. 

“yeah! he said my cross-court shot wasn’t half-bad!” 

you’re not quite sure if that counts as a compliment, but you won’t pop his bubble. 

“and omi didn’t flinch as much when i patted him on the back, either,” bokuto nods. 

“do you still use that hand sanitiser i gave you?” it had been a mindless little gift, one you’d bought after finding out he works with a germaphobe, but you are curious nonetheless. 

“of course!” bokuto nods enthusiastically. “it’s my lucky charm.” 

your breath catches in your throat. does he not understand what saying something like that could do to a person? especially when it’s coming from the world’s best himbo? what are you even supposed to say to that?

for the first time today, the universe takes pity on you. 

there’s a loud knock on the door. 

bokuto perks up. “i’ll get it!” 

“wait!” you call out instinctively.

bokuto pouts at you over his shoulder, frozen mid-stride.

“you’re shirtless.”

bokuto blinks at you for a moment. “is that a problem?”

three more brain cells stop fighting the good fight and perish. “no?” you frown. “yes?” he’s staring at you. “maybe?”

he’s still staring, a unique concoction of confusion, earnestness and disappointment in his eyes.

“it’s… a lot,” is all you manage to sew together.

“a lot?”

“you’re… a lot.”

“i’m a lot?” bokuto looks like he doesn’t know whether he should be upset by that statement or not.

“yes… muscles.” it’s official. you want to die. there’s no coming back from this.

bokuto glances down at his chest for a moment, a perplexed expression on his face. well, he is beefier than most, and none of his teammates are quite as built…

“just let me get it,” you breathe, well-aware of just how red your face is. after what is bound to be a horribly awkward dinner, you’d need to hop online and look for a new place to live.

you take a deep breath as you open the door, hoping, praying that this exchange, at least, would go smoothly.

you freeze as you look at the delivery boy’s face.

no way.

“holy shit,” makki grins, eyes crinkled and red cap slightly askew.

“no.” this is the last thing you need right now.

“this is where you live?” he asks, trying to pop his head through the doorway.

“uh—” you push him back instinctively, mustering up all your strength to budge the headstrong six foot asshole currently trying to force his way into your apartment.

he freezes, and you know the worst has happened.

“is that your roommate?” he asks, taking a step back with an infuriating grin on his face. “or are you getting some?”

“oh my god makki, i’m going to—”

“do you know this guy?” bokuto’s suddenly behind you, hands clasped behind his back and head tilted to the side.

“unfortunately,” you mumble, trying to keep your expression as neutral as possible. if makki catches even a hint of weakness, he’d press at it relentlessly.

you look him up and down, frowning. “i thought you were working at a tech shop or something.”

he shrugs. “i lied.”

“why?”

“i dunno,” he says, as if lying about your part-time job is the most casual thing in the world. “it sounded more impressive than ‘delivery boy’.”

it’s not like you expected any more from him, but even this feels a little strange.

bokuto’s stomach grumbles from behind you. you remember that he’s right there – and makki’s staring at him.

“why is he shirtless?” makki tilts his head to the side. “who is he?”

“my roommate,” you admit through your teeth.

makki stares at him for a few seconds more, a smirk spreading across his face. “is this why you won’t let us come over to your apartment?”

change of plans. time to pencil in a murder for seven o’clock. after your scheduled self-implosion, which is bound to happen any moment now.

“give me my food.”

“not until you answer my question,” makki grins, holding the takeout bag above your head. damn him and his height.

you glare at him, fists clenched at your sides. “i won’t hesitate and you know it.”

the threat of a knee to the balls is usually enough to make any man quiver. but not makki.

“really?” he smirks. “in front of your hot roommate?”

“i’m going to kill you—”

“i can’t believe you’ve been keeping him from us,” makki tsks, holding out a hand to bokuto. “nice to meet you. i’m a friend from high school.”

bokuto shakes his hand tentatively, a bit behind on exactly what’s going on here.

“and you are?” maki asks, a disgustingly sweet smile on his face.

“bokuto.”

“nice,” makki nods, looking him up and down. you know this will be immediately reported in the group chat. you’re never going to live this down. and, makki now knows where you live. you expect that you’re going to get some unwanted visitors very, very soon.

“get out of here,” you grumble, taking full advantage of makki’s distracted gaze and grabbing the bag out of his hand.

“hey!”

“have a nice night!” you call, pushing him out of your doorway with one hand. “i’ll leave you a bad review!”

“no, don’t—”

the door slams in his face, and you feel like you can breathe properly for the first time in the past ten minutes.

that is until you remember that bokuto’s standing right behind you. 

“should we eat?” he asks, a little too close to your ear than you would like. 

you flinch, taking a step forward. your nose presses against your front door and you curse every conceivable deity that comes to mind. 

“yes,” you nod, lightly banging your head on the door. perhaps it’s what you deserve. 

“okay,” bokuto says slowly, as if he’s not sure about what to do next. “i’ll get some plates.” 

you take a moment to catch your breath. all you have to do is make it through, what? the next twenty minutes? surely you could manage that. surely. 

bokuto’s already over by the couch, two plates in hand, and still very, very shirtless. that’s the reason everything’s gone tits up today. because he wouldn’t constrain his pectorals behind a thin wall of blended cotton. 

but you sit yourself down on the couch after unpacking your food on the coffee table. you sit yourself down on the couch, unsure if you can find the strength to start eating. 

bokuto plops himself down next to you. it’s almost like he’s vibrating with excitement. why does he have to be so damn hot and cute?

the two of you sit on the couch in total silence. 

bokuto stares at you. you make a pointed effort to look anywhere that isn’t him. 

“are you okay?” he asks, a genuine pout on his face. 

“can you… can you put a shirt on?” it feels a bit like an admission, or some kind of surrender, but this has gone on too long. 

“oh, okay.” bokuto hops up, watching you for a moment before dashing off. 

once he’s out of sight, you sigh, resting your head in your hands. what is going on? when you’d gotten back from university, you hadn’t expected the day to go like this. 

bokuto reappears out the corner of your eye, now modestly covered with a white shirt. it’s almost worse, honestly – the shirt really compliments his tan. 

“are you okay!?” his voice pitches as he moves towards you, placing a hand on your back. 

you flinch, dropping your hands from your face and closing your eyes. “yeah, i just…” honestly it feels a bit like you’re in purgatory. but that might sound a little dark. “it’s just been a weird night.” 

“i’m sorry.” you can’t see bokuto’s frown, but you hear it in his voice. 

you finally brave a proper look at him. somehow, his hair looks more deflated than usual. 

“i’m sorry if i made you uncomfortable,” he specifies, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“uh–” you swallow roughly, unsure of where to go with this. “thanks? i guess?” 

bokuto pouts at you, his gaze flicking down to the floor. “i was just trying to impress you.” 

every single thought skids to a stop. what? what? he was walking around shirtless because he was trying to impress you? well, it worked, but he probably didn’t expect it to leave you speechless. 

“you… were trying to impress me?” the words feel strange coming from your mouth, but you manage to meet his eyes. 

“yeah,” he nods, his own cheeks darkening. it’s nice to know that the embarrassment isn’t one-sided. “my friend told me it was the best way to win you over.”

whoever this friend is, you intend to have a very stern word with them.

“you could just… ask me out,” you blink at him, unsure of how to proceed. 

“i could?”

“yeah?”

“would you have said yes?”

“i–” you clear your throat, breaking eye contact. “i guess?”

“so… that’s a yes?”

“yes?” 

bokuto stares at you, cheeks even redder than before and mouth slightly agape. 

“what?” you stare back at him. is he broken? has his brain finally given up too? 

“do you wanna go on a date?”

“i–” it’s your turn to have your mouth hang slightly agape. 

“please?” he asks, eyes going round and sad. 

“sure,” you blink. you? bokuto? a date? when? how? what–

“woo-hoo!” bokuto cheers, pumping his fists in the air. “alright!” 

oh man, this boy is definitely going to be the death of you. probably by heart attack. but, maybe that’s not the worst fate. 

[princess-of-inarizaki]

Hi honey how‘re you doing?💗 I hope you‘re doing great ♡´･ᴗ･`♡ I wanted to ask if you still do inarizaki manager headcanons, because if you do can I PLEAASE request something? Inarizaki is my comfort team and I really want a girlfriend rn (lmao simp) so can you please write a fic about inarizaki randomly meeting their cute little manager in public with her girlfriend and her girlfriend has her arm around her and then they go talk and find out that they’re dating and the team is actually really suprised that Y/N is kinda „💅“ you know... because she dresses and acts really feminine (like she loves plushies,pink,skirts and shit) so they didn’t really expect this but they‘re really supportive (but kinda sad because they were simps for her -oop) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) YOU DONT HAVE TO OFC if you dont want to write about gay relationships that’s fine no worriesʕ•ᴥ•ʔ It’s just I don’t really like lesbian representation by other writers because they always make her hate feminine stuff, really masculine and I really like your headcanons. AGAIN It’s okay if you don’t want to write it, take care of yourself and please don’t stress yourself💓

Omg heyyy sweetie <3 I'm doing fine!!

Thank you so much for sending in your request! I usually don't reply to requests, since I've been really busy lately. But every once in a while, I see ones like yours in my inbox, and I can't help but write imagines for them, so thank you for this!!

I wish you all the best in finding a girlfriend, love. You're amazing, and any girl would be beyond lucky to have you !! 💖

And yes grrr, the lack of lesbian/gay representation is not okay :( I'll do my best to make sure I write more headcanons for my LGBTQ+ followers in the future :)

Inarizaki's sapphic manager headcanons

If you were to ask any of the boys on the Inarizaki team "which girl do you love most, in this entire world?" they'd say your name in a heartbeat.

Because frankly, those boys adored you to hell and back. It wasn't just because you treated them with so much respect, or that you were an attentive manager, the best they've ever had.

It was because of your kind and sweet nature, and the smallest of things you did which softened those boys to putty whenever you were in their vicinity.

After finding out your favourite colour was pink, Osamu took it upon himself to cook food in different hues of it.

The pink blush on his face whenever you were awed by it, made everything worthwhile. Eventhough it took hours to perfect the pink cupcakes, or shrimp dumplings, you saying "These are all in my favourite colour, 'Samu! Thank you" made it all worthwhile.

Atsumu, after following you home one day to work on volleyball plays together, noticed you collect plushies.

“These are all really cute” he stammered, as he inspected each of them.

A small idea formed in his mind as he gifted you with a plushie, a week after, for your birthday.

“I hope you'll add it to your collection... I named him chibi, I hope you don't mind.”

And Miya Atsumu would never forget the way your eyes lit up after receiving the gift, or the kiss you placed on his forehead as a sign of gratitude.

"Who knew something like that could make her so happy?" He thought giddily.

Suna thought you looked extremely pretty every time you wore a skirt.

He never missed an opportunity to compliment you, or to take a picture of you, looking your absolute best.

“You seem to like wearing skirts, huh?”, “yeah, I always have”

At night, he sometimes looked through his photo album with a soft smile. "She really is the prettiest girl I've ever seen."

Kita finds you small. (Wow borderline size link shjxjsks But please let me explain)

He loves seeing you in his jackets or his hand when comparing to yours, because it makes him feel responsible to protect you. To keep you safe.

In conclusion, they're whipped, your honour. Those boys love you to the Pluto and back, truly.

And it was an unspoken rule that someday, whoever got to date you would take the absolute best care of you. They had the others to worry about if they didn't.

Which led them to wonder. Why hadn't you fallen for any of them yet? Were they not obvious enough?

One cold January day, Akagi realised you were acting strange. “I'm telling you guys, she probably has a boyfriend somewhere!”

The rest of the team stared at him disbelievingly, but Akagi didn't give up. “No I'm telling you, she looks happier than usual and I see her smiling at her phone a lot.”

“I propose we follow her after practice today” said Atsumu. Of course, his ideas were usually radical, and they would've never done such a thing. But they were desperate, did you really fall in love with someone else?

After practice, you waved at them with a small lopsided smile on your face and headed away. Unbeknownst to you, the boys were actually maintaining a distance just so they could follow you.

They ended up in a coffee shop, as you seemed to be waiting for someone.

The look conspicuous. Six boys, all wearing sunglasses. “It's a wonder she hasn't seen us yet” drawled Osamu sarcastically.

Suddenly, a girl slid into a seat opposite yours and placed a gentle kiss on your lips.

Inarizaki.exc has stopped functioning. “So that's why she never liked any of us” whispered Kita with a small smile.

Ever the diplomatic leader, he walked up to you and your girlfriend. “Hi y/n-san, hello miss” he said politely to the both of you. A faint blush could be seen on your cheeks as you figured Kita, and the rest of the boys saw the kiss.

“Kita-san, boys, this is my girlfriend gf/n” you proudly announced, as your fingers found hers' and intertwined them together.

“We're so happy to find out about this, you guys make a lovely couple.” said Aran. The twins diverted their attention to your girlfriend and began peppering her with questions. “How did you guys meet?”, “Who asked who out?”, “Yer' so lucky”

Your heart felt full, it was not everyday that you found out you had the best friends in the universe. “Thanks guys” you whispered through choked sobs, as Suna gently hugged you. “please join us for some coffee”

taglist: @dai-tsukki-desu @k-sakusa-old @pleaseshutup2021 ❤️💛💚💙💜

[salty-ironstrange-shipper]

Could you maybe post a long-ass list of good ironstrange fics because at this point, there's nothing else to do and you seem like you have great taste

puppets on a string

Summary: Stephen Strange is a villain. But a hot one.

Words: 103,206 (incomplete)

This fic is courtesy of our very own @funkylittlebidiot​, so definitely give it a read!

Find a Way (to break the fall)

Summary: Stephen didn't think about it anymore. It had been buried deep beneath all the other shit he'd had to live through in the last couple of years and it didn't impact his day to day life in any way whatsoever. Until the day it does.

Words: 2,170

This one is short, but emotional and impactful. Warning for discussions of past rape/non-con.

The Brands We Carry

Summary: Tony Stark is almost thirteen years old when he gets ready to settle down to bed one early-early-morning and happens to look in the mirror on his childhood wall and catches sight of a circular brand on the skin above his heart.

“About fucking time,” Tony mutters, and goes to sleep without bothering to tell anybody he just cussed out a baby that’s only just crying its way into its new life somewhere on the planet.

The date is February 17, 1983. Happy birthday, whoever you are. Took you long enough.

Or: Tony Stark and Stephen Strange are soulmates. You'd think that would mean they would be perfect for each other right from the start, but it turns out that their soulbond is a long path of mutual distrust, dislike, and miscommunication. Just their luck.

Words: 10,497

I love a good soulmate au, and this is a good soulmate au. Very interesting look at both characters and also what happens if someone’s soulmate has  a not insignificant age gap (though they only meet in person for the first time as adults)

A Crown of Thorn and Shadows

Summary: Anthony Stark, King of Blood and Darkness, ruler of the Unseelie court, did not expect to find Prince Stephen Strange of the Seelie chained up in his torture chamber, cold iron being driven into his hands. Stephen Strange, a Seelie healer, never dreamed of finding himself in the court of nightmares, being cared for by the king that the Seelie called a monster. They must work together to find the traitors in two Faerie courts that have not spoken in over six hundred years and reclaim Stephen's memories before the courts descend into war once more.

Words: 58,465

Wonderful fantasy au, great worldbuilding and relationship buildup. Lots of fun.

Villain Stephen Strange and His Obsession with Tony Stark

Summary: Just a bunch of prompty oneshots that are partially based but 100% inspired by Tumblr IronStrange Posts. Rated T-M

Words: 1,029

Do I even have to explain it? This is just fun. 

Ten times outta nine, I’m a hand grenade

Summary: Though neither remembered that night, it turns out that Tony Stark and Stephen Strange had first encountered each other years earlier. Unfortunately, that might end up destroying the universe.

Words: 419,141

This is a loooooooooong boi. But oh, it’s a good one. Stephen and Tony basically go back in time, change the universe, and fall in love. It’s everything you could want from them. Complete with romance, angst, drama, and humor.

Where Severus Snape is hot, not a stalker, and somehow gets the girl

Summary: And then, as if he wasn’t already the most embarrassing estranged biological dad ever, Tony stopped in his tracks, raised his sunglasses (because of course he would wear sunglasses inside a lecture hall in April), and gave Professor Strange the most blatant, sustained once-over in the history of fuckboyness.

Then he put down his glasses, shot a winning smile at the teacher, and said, “Well, I’m Tony Stark, of course.”Or: Peter Parker is sick and wants to cut his Neuroscience class. Tony just wants to help (and maybe date his son's hot teacher). Stephen Strange just wants to give his lecture in peace.

Words: 2,387

Stephen is a college professor. Peter is his student. Tony is having too much fun with this.

You Remind Me of a Man

Summary: Tony Stark cannot stand the overly opinionated and egotistical Dr. Strange and the feeling is extremely mutual.

Words: 44,788

Perfect no-powers au for them. They’re assholes who fall in love and see another side to each other. It’s amazing, 10/10 would recommend.

I am here

Summary: There’s a technical reason Stephen must surrender the Time Stone to save Tony’s life. It has to be done, and that’s enough for him to do it. But just in case, the universe decides to give him a personal reason as well.

Words: 11,708

This one is so soft. Basically, while looking through time, Stephen keeps showing up in the past at various points throughout Tony’s life. And then they fall in love! Good for them.

T For Tony

Summary: Your soul mark is the first letter of your soulmate's name. Stephen has an 'A'. But he's in love with Tony. Cue anxiety, jealousy, angst.

Words: 2,794

They’re so stupid in this fic. It’s great. It took them so much effort to remember Anthony starts with an A. (I still think this fic should’ve been titled A For Tony, but I didn’t write it, so)

something taken, something new

Summary: The ChronicConnection implement and app allows a person that lives with chronic or illness-induced pain to transfer their burden temporarily to a willing loved one. Tony and Stephen sign up as beta testers.

Words: 14,541.

I must’ve recced this a thousand times ..... AND I’LL DO IT AGAIN. THIS FIC IS THE PERFECT MIXTURE OF SOFT AND ANGST AND IF YOU DON’T READ IT, YOU’RE WRONG.

15 Million

Summary: For every alternate reality there were ten thousand alternate realities from that. And from those ten thousand more. And then ten thousand more off each of those. And so it goes.

The Avengers win once. There’s ten thousand versions of it. 

Stephen Strange doesn’t know what to make of the fact that Tony Stark seems to be *his* victory.

Words: 2,755

Obligatory “Stephen looks through 15 million possible futures and falls in love with Tony in the process fic”. Can’t have a fic rec list without it.

Hero Swap AU

Summary: It's a boring day for the Avengers until Tony Stark attacks.

Words: 17,391.

Just pure, fun crack.

Only a Matter of Time

Summary: Captured by aliens, mistaken for a mating pair, Tony and Stephen find themselves having the universe’s most awkward honeymoon.

Words: 6,056.

Smut. Good smut, though. 

Sunrise in Exile

Summary: Tony does the math and realizes their best chance to save the universe is by... not confronting Thanos on his own turf. 

So he steals a wizard and a spider and a space ship. And he runs.

(Three humans and an A.I in space, the alien friendships they make along the way, and discovering how science and magic might coexist in a universe where they can be one and the same.)

Words: 352,079 (incomplete, has not been updated in a while)

A long fic set during Infinity War where they just ... run away to space. And it’s great.

Rewriting Icarus

Summary: Stephen and Tony, from the beginning to the end and beyond.

Words: 23,504

Pre-powers AU, except they fall in love then get powers. Sad, angsty, beautiful. 

variations on a theme

Summary: Stephen sees into millions of possibilities and finds only one where they win, but he never expected to end up falling in love with Tony Stark in almost every single one of them.

Words: 5,134

Another Stephen looks through the possible futures and falls in love with Tony? ... Guess you can’t have just one. 

Five’s A Party

Summary: It's an orgy fic, I'm not sure what else to say

Words: 2,639

... Not much I can add to that. Magic smut. 

A Lapse in Judgement

Summary: Stephen, the newly minted Sorcerer Supreme, is strong, powerful, and in control of his life in every micromanaged detail, because failure to do so could result in (another) cataclysmic event within the universe. He is. But then Stephen accepts an off-handed offer to spar from Tony Stark – a man who is Stephen’s non-magical equal, a man who Stephen barely sees outside of bi-weekly meetings and the few and far between fight against a villain – and Stark discovers Stephen’s biggest weakness, his most hateful secret that is a deeply fundamental part of Stephen’s psyche.

Except instead of judgement, and horror, and disgust, Stark meets him halfway, and a lapse in judgement turns into a possibility that could change their lives forever.

Words: 22,694

This is the first of a series which was just updated (haven’t finished reading the new part yet, looking forward to it) and is just a really good, surprisingly soft and emotional BDSM series/fic.

Ironstrange Fics and Ironstrange Cinematic Universe

Oh, how did these get here?

Yes, I’m reccing my own work. I’ve written 29 fics and 377,132 words for this ship, I think I’m entitled.

Ironstrange Fics is a collection of every ironstrange fic I’ve written, short, long, sweet, angst, and everything in between. Ironstrange Cinematic Universe (itself responsible for 49% of those 377k words) is my ironstrange rewrite of the MCU specifically. Please read, enjoy, and leave comments, I’m not updating any fics for a couple of weeks and I need the validation. 

[pascalpanic]

Prom Date (Frankie Morales x f!Reader)

Summary: It’s approximately 2030, and you were in the graduating high school class of 2021. Your boyfriend, Frankie, is slightly older than you and doesn’t know that you never got a prom, a graduation, any of it. Being the sweetheart he is, he decides that he needs to fix that. 

Warnings: cursing, the tiniest allusions to Frankie’s drug problem and his ex-wife, cavity-inducing fluff

WC: 3.4k

A/N: Okay, this one goes out to the kids who don’t get the chance for prom because of COVID: that sucks. This is my fix-it fic for you! This takes place after the events of Triple Frontier mainly because I didn’t want to write Tom but as if it happened a number of years after it did in the timeline so it’s maybe around 2030 here and the heist happened in like 2028ish then? So Frankie’s the age he was then, separated from the mom of his kid, and getting maybe like 50/50 custody of her. Here’s my inspo for what Luna, Frankie’s baby looks like! Her mom is only briefly mentioned but that’s where the gray eyes come from, the brown wavy hair is all him 💖. Also, I think the nickname Thumper is adorable for little kids who have lots of energy (it was also my nickname as a baby) and so Frankie most definitely calls Luna “Thumper”. I also, naturally, have inspo for the reader’s dress and Luna’s, but the outfits are never described specifically so you can feel free to imagine what you want for their outfits! Additional note: I don’t understand children’s milestones so please just suspend your disbelief if Luna is doing something that’s not fitting for a kid of 22 months, oops. Biggest thanks to @lunasblipsandblurbs​ and @ilikechocolatemilkh​ for their help- there may or may not be two characters named after them in here ;) and as always, my trusty proofreader Miki (who’s a nerd and doesn’t have Tumblr)

Movie night was going as it usually did for you and Frankie Morales: the TV droned quietly in the background while you cuddled with him, sitting in his lap. The two of you chattered and made out instead of watching the movie. Somehow the conversation made its way to your high school experience. That was a long time ago now. Both of you were fully grown adults. Hell, Frankie had a baby, you were working on a Master’s degree, and the two of you lived in a house together. Your high school experience was far different from his, you two soon discovered. He had all of it; you had your junior and senior year during a pandemic.

Your boyfriend looks at you incredulously. “So you never had a prom?”

You shake your head. “I wish I did, but no. I cried so hard when they announced that it wouldn’t happen,” you admit with a sad smile. “My best friend and I still wore gowns and got dressed up, but we just took pictures in the park and ate Mexican food on the couch.”

“As much as that sounds like a blast, that’s so shitty,” Frankie chuckles and snuggles you closer to his chest. “Was all of your senior year like that?”

“Pretty much,” you nod. “Fully digital and everything. Didn’t even get the chance to go to my junior prom either.” 

“Jesus. And you had the shit luck to be born into the one year where you didn’t get either?” He asks, rubbing your back and nuzzling his face into your hair. 

“Class of ‘21, what a time,” you sigh. It was true- you were the one graduating class that the pandemic hit hardest. It had upset you at the time, but you had gotten over it by now. It was years ago anyway, that didn’t matter. “My luck can’t be that shit. I still have a pretty damn cute boyfriend,” you tease and lift your head, softly kissing his lips before breaking away and resting your head on his shoulder once more. 

Frankie pouts down at you. “But you got all of that taken from you! Senior year was supposed to be the time to slack off and have fun. I took, like, two shop classes and one on basic aviation. Didn’t do anything,” he laughs. 

“Even if I was at school, it wouldn’t have been like that for me, Frankie,” you chuckle softly. “I was taking a bunch of classes for college credits and everything.”

“I know, hermosa, you’re a nerd. Just play along with me this time,” he asks jokingly, jostling you around on his lap. 

“Frankie,” you squeal and cling to him, laughing. “Fine. Poor me, I didn’t get anything from my senior year. It has haunted me and made my life a living hell.” You give him a fake pout. “Is that better?”

A smile covers his face as he looks at you. “Much better. Because now that you’re upset, I’m going to get to make it better. We’re throwing you a prom.”

You immediately frown. “Frankie, we’re adults now. Prom is not important to me the way it was then,” you try to reason with him, but you know your boyfriend. If he’s got a plan, you can’t get him out of it. 

Frankie shakes his head and takes off his ball cap, setting it on your head teasingly. “Too bad. We’re having a prom for you, babe. You deserve it, a night all about you. Here, you know what?” He says, his face lighting up as another idea pops into his head. “We’ll do it for your birthday, since that’s coming up. We’ll have a birthday party-prom for you,” he says, absolutely beaming. 

“No, Frankie,” you start to protest, but he cuts you off. 

“Come on, it’ll be fun! We’ll dress Luna up, I’ll rent a tux, we can invite the boys,” he offers and the more he talks, the more you have to admit that this idea sounds like a blast. Your frown slowly eases into a smile as he talks. “Oh, you like it, this is happening,” he laughs and kisses your head, pulling you close to his chest. “Babe, will you be my prom date?”

“It’s not the most elegant of prom-posals,” you tease, “but it’ll do. Of course I will.” You nod and beam up at him. He kisses your forehead and the two of you return to watching the movie.

-

When the day, your birthday, rolled around, your first order of business was queueing the music for the night. Frankie had decided it was your night, and that made it that much easier for him to pin that responsibility on you. It was to ensure you liked the music that was playing, he had said, and he had half-heartedly meant it. 

As you sat on the bed you shared with your boyfriend, bouncing his daughter on your knee, you filled out the playlist for the dance. “There better be some Fleetwood Mac on there,” Frankie says with a grin as he walks into the room, fresh from the shower. Luna, his baby, reaches for him excitedly and he picks her up. “And maybe something like Baby Shark for this one,” he teases and blows a raspberry onto her tummy, earning a giggle from his daughter.

You grin up at him and his little girl, laughing. “Luna’s only in it for the pictures, come on,” you say and tilt your head as you look at him. “But you’ll be happy to know that I put down The Chain as the first song of the night.”

“Yes!” Frankie exclaims and flops down on the bed next to you, Luna giggling as the two of them fall. She crawls over to lie between the two of you, enjoying being between her two favorite people. “Aw, is that your mama?” He chuckles, and you shake your head.

“Frankie, no,” you say and bite your lip for a second, looking away from the two of them. You know she loves you, and you absolutely adore her, but it hurts your heart that you’ll probably be nothing more than Dad’s girlfriend to her. “She knows that.”

“Hey, she knows the difference in you and Maria,” he shakes his head. “But that’s her mother, and you’re her mama, right niña?” he coos to the little girl and she giggles, burying her face in your stomach. It melts your heart. “Yeah, your mama.”

“My niña,” you murmur happily and pull her up to your chest, wrapping your arms around her. Luna relaxes happily as her head meets your chest. Frankie chuckles a little at the fact that your Spanish grammar isn’t entirely correct, but he doesn’t challenge your words. “Are you gonna tell me what your daddy is planning for tonight?” You ask her, teasingly nonchalant, before looking down at Frankie.

His face holds a little bit of a red flush. “I have no clue what you’re talking about,” he says, playing it cool.

“I know you too well, Francisco,” you tease and look down at him, rubbing Luna’s back gently. “You’ve got some kind of surprise plan for tonight, and I can’t tell what it is, but I know you’re planning something. You’ve got the worst poker face,” you laugh and cup the side of his face with your hand, enjoying the feeling of the stubble beneath your palm.

Frankie shakes his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he repeats, but you can feel the way his skin warms with the lie. “I don’t have anything planned that you don’t know about,” he tells you quickly.

You simply smile at him and rub the side of his face. “That’s a blatant lie, babe. But I’ll let it slide, since I know whatever surprise it is will be a good one,” you chuckle and press your lips to his. He smiles back and cups your face too. Luna makes a noise of disgust and pushes the two of you away. You both laugh at her action and smile down at the little girl, a carbon copy of her father save for her eyes. She takes her tiny hands and puts them on either side of Frankie’s face, pressing a kiss to his nose. “Oh my god, Luna,” you laugh. “Am I not good enough for your daddy? Is he breaking up with me, is that it?”  You ask teasingly.

“I’m getting you dressed up and treating you nice before breaking up with you, yes,” Frankie retorts sarcastically and rests his head on your shoulder, picking up his little girl and bringing her to sit between the two of you, perfectly fitting in the space where your thighs press against each other. 

“You never know,” you shrug with a smile. Luna grabs your face and kisses your nose this time, and your heart melts. “Aw, thank you. We’re each getting some love, huh?” You ask the little girl and tug at her wavy brown whale-spout ponytail. “Well, I think you and I need to get all dolled up, don’t you think?” You ask her and she giggles excitedly, babbling an affirmation in her little speech pattern. 

Scooting off the side of the bed, you kiss Frankie sweetly before picking Luna up. “Alright, Thumper,” you say with a mock groan. “Wow, you’re growing so much,” you say as you jokingly grunt at the effort of holding her. “You’re gonna be as tall as your daddy soon!” Luna protests that, giggling and playfully hitting your arm, mimicking what she’s seen her father do teasingly.

Frankie watches the two of you adoringly, his heart in his eyes. The two girls that matter most to him. “Hopefully not,” he shakes his head, chuckling and simply watching the two of you interact.

-

Frankie and Santiago did a wonderful job decorating, and the backyard is beautiful just as the sun goes down. Twinkle lights line the perimeter of the stone patio, and the night is a wonderfully warm dream, the colors of the sky absolutely stunning with tiny cotton wisps floating through. The boys are all dressed in their tuxedos, Frankie even omitting his traditional ball cap and putting some gel into his curls, and you beam as you and their dates take pictures of the four of them. They’re making the “delta” symbol with their index fingers and thumbs, naturally, since the Delta Squadron seems to be their favorite thing to call themselves. “You look like a bunch of sorority girls,” you call out over the already-blasting music, making Frankie’s face flush slightly.

“Santi’s hot as hell, but you sure got the cute one,” Lex, Santiago’s date murmurs to you, and you laugh at that. You wink at Frankie and he winks back, right as you press the button to take the photo. “Look at that, I mean come on,” she laughs and nudges your side. You two just met tonight, unsurprising since Santiago always brings new girls around, but you find her to be easy company. The Miller boys each brought a date, neither anyone you know, but the two of them stand separately. “And you, my dear, are just as cute as your daddy,” she grins down at the little girl holding your dress. “Okay, enough of these idiots,” she calls. “Time for couples’ photos! Moraleses, you first,” she says and scoots you (and subsequently Luna) towards the fence wall, decorated for the photos with fake vines, flowers and twinkling lights.

“We’re not-” you and Frankie both stumble nervously, avoiding saying ‘married’ or any word of the kind. You both give up as your eyes meet, and a smile falls across both of your faces. You give your head a little shake and the two of you dismiss it. The men disband from around Frankie and Luna runs to his side, him squatting down to pick her up. “Mija,” Frankie exclaims as she barrels into his chest, nearly knocking him over. “Don’t you two look wonderful, all matching?” he murmurs and presses a kiss to your lips before Luna groans and pushes your face away. 

You laugh, both at his words and Luna’s actions. The toddler had insisted that the two of you match colors; your dresses were different, but the same hue, and you both had absolutely beamed at the fact that the two of you were dressed similarly, especially when she informed you that she wanted to look just like you. “And you, in your tux,” you smile and break away, straightening Frankie’s bow tie. 

The group takes photos of the two of you as you converse and kiss, especially at Luna breaking the affection up with her tiny hands. You take pictures in different poses: where you stand now, Luna standing on her own, you and Frankie in the classic and cheesy prom pose, some with just you and him, him and Luna, just you and the little girl, who absolutely thrives under the spotlight given to her by the adults. Benny comments like she’s a model walking a runway, and she giggles, hiding her face in the tulle of your skirt. You keep an eye on the level of the sun in the sky, since Frankie’s mom is coming to pick Luna up later to allow the party to last as late as you want it to.

As the pictures are finished, you go to the ledge where you set your phone, starting the first song for the dance part. Just like you promised Frankie earlier, it’s The Chain by Fleetwood Mac. All of the boys holler excitedly as they recognize the song, grabbing their dates and starting to dance with them. Frankie picks up Luna and starts swaying her along to the slow beginning; naturally, with a father like hers, she already knows the tune and shouts along to the words.  You walk over to the two of them, singing already, and Frankie takes your hand, giving you a little twirl. You happily follow along, grinning at his little girl resting against his chest. She’s tired already, and you’re not surprised; despite the excitement of getting ready, it’s past her typical bedtime. He sets her down and she runs off to find her Uncle Santi, dancing with him, and Frankie takes you in his arms, singing the lyrics at the top of his lungs with you. 

As the song draws to an end, the second song comes on: a slow one, the song you and Frankie have always loved. His heart speeds up as he thinks about what he’s about to do. He signals behind your back to the older Miller brother, who finds his way to your phone and turns it down a little. You lift your head from his shoulder at the change in volume, clearly upset. “Will, why the hell did you turn it down?” you call across the backyard, and he simply shrugs, holding the best deadpan he can. Frankie pulls away from you, probably to go knock him upside the head, you assume, but the look on his face confuses you. “What?” you ask him, looking down as you notice Luna has once again attached herself to your leg.

Frankie takes a deep breath then grins at you, and your confusion is just as strong. You ask him the same question, tilting your head, and you notice that the rest of the couples have turned to stare at the two of you. “Mi amor, you know how much I love you, right?” He asks. You nod, a small smile on your face, still confused. “I adore you, with everything in me. The most important thing in my life, my little girl, she loves you just as much. I know I’m a difficult man. I’ve done some messed-up shit, been a junkie, been a recovering idiot basically,” he chuckles softly, “but you never care about that, just about who I am now. You’re so wonderful, so perfect,” he tells you, the softest smile on his face. Your heart starts fluttering. Where did this monologue come from? What is- oh, you realize, and the smile drops. His drops too and he pauses, but you grin again, even wider, and he picks up his train of thought.

“Do you have it, just like we practiced?” He asks as he looks down at Luna, who nods and giggles excitedly. She’s holding something, something she wasn’t before. “Buena, mija,” he nods and ruffles her hair. She hands the object to her father, quickly enough that you can’t see it, then runs off to clutch at Benny’s hand, leaning against him. Your heart stops in your chest as you see what he’s holding: a small, rectangular box covered in velvet. You go to say his name but the words die before they can exit your mouth. “Will you do me the honor,” he begins asking as he falls to one knee and taking your hand, “of becoming my wife, of letting me marry you and be with you forever?” 

Tears well in your eyes at the love in your heart, your face hurting from how wide you’re smiling. He opens the box to reveal the ring inside, simple and elegant yet stunning, just like the relationship between the two of you. You go to tell him yes, to affirm the feelings inside, but your voice breaks. “Yes,” you say, your voice watery and cracking. You nod frantically and he takes the ring from the box, sliding it onto your finger. He stands and you immediately take his face in your hands, kissing him desperately and happily. You giggle into the kiss, and the men and their dates behind him break into whoops and cheers. You laugh as you break away, forehead falling to Frankie’s tuxedoed chest, before looking up through watery eyes and holding up your hand excitedly. Everyone cheers again and you laugh again too, hugging him tight. “Frankie,” you coo lovingly as you break from his chest and look up at him. “This is our senior prom. We’re just kids,” you joke. “You really want to marry me this young?”

That earns a belly laugh from him, shaking his head. “Shut up,” he teases back, spotting Luna’s excited bouncing. “Come here, Thumper,” he calls and waves her over. You both squat down and beckon her over, and she once again zooms into both of your arms.

“Mama and daddy getting married,” she squeals in her little baby voice and it melts your heart, her tone filled with contentment. You nod and squeeze her and her father tighter.

“We sure are, kid,” you laugh and stroke her head. “You’re gonna be my flower-girl-of-honor, right?” You ask and pull away from the hug. She nods excitedly. 

“Flower-girl-of-honor?” Frankie asks and tilts his head.

“Well, she can’t just be my flower girl, Frankie,” you say as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “She’s my daughter, right?” you ask her, earning a happy nod. She agreed.

Later, Frankie’s mom indeed came and picked up her granddaughter, absolutely beaming and telling you that she was glad her son finally got the balls to propose. You had both laughed at that, thanked her once again for watching Luna for the night, and returned to the dance floor.

The party seemed to last all night, you and your new fiancé and the rest of the attendees having the time of your lives. “Well, this is the best prom I’ve ever been to,” you tease, grinning up at Frankie as the two of you slow dance. He just chuckles, pressing a kiss to your forehead and singing along to the words of the music playing. “Oh my god, it was a prom-posal,” you gasp as the pun hits you. “Jesus, why did I do that?” he groans sarcastically. “That pun is gonna haunt me the rest of my life now.” “Just like I am,” you sing happily, grinning so wide your nose scrunches. He laughs and shakes his head at that, but pulls you closer into his chest. “You just made a promise you’re not gonna wanna follow through on, Catfish,” you tease. “I’m gonna make your life so miserable.”

Frankie sighs at your sarcasm but smiles contently as he looks down at you. “I don’t think you could if you tried, hermosa,” he tells you before bringing his lips to yours for a sweet kiss. 

[theladyofdeath]

The Perfect Gift {Rowaelin}

Based on a prompt sent in by anonymous.

This has been a hard Christmas for everyone, @snelbz​ and I included, so I apologize for my lack of posts. In years past, Christmas fics have been my favorite to write and post, but this year...I lacked any Christmas spirit, whatsoever. However, as that has been the case for many of us, hopefully these last few holiday fics will give you a little boost of holiday spirit. (;

Written with Shelb, of course.

Rowan got the same gift for Christmas every year: working overtime from the week before Christmas until after the New Year. 

It left him exhausted, hardly able to keep his eyes open as he pulled onto his street. He longed for his apartment, even if he wasn’t sure if he was going to the fridge for a beer or heading straight to bed.

It had been one of those days.

It didn’t help that he had to drive slower, being extra cautious, because of the heavy snowfall. 

He parked in the lot, thankful that there was a spot near the staircase and as he brought the car to a stop, he dragged a hand down his face.

Thankfully, he’d be off tomorrow and would celebrate the holiday with his friends. Before turning right back around to be at work the day after Christmas.

With a yawn, Rowan pulled himself from the car and trudged up the stairs towards his apartment. As he approached, however, he realized he could hear festive music playing from within and he looked up to find a large, and very glittery, wreath hanging on his front door.

He reached for the knob and found it unlocked, which it certainly hadn’t been when he’d left for work this morning.

He slowly pushed it open, and froze.

Aelin Galathynius was up on a stepstool, reaching up high to place a star on the top of a Christmas tree.

It wasn’t his Christmas tree.

Rowan didn’t have a Christmas tree. 

Rowan had zero Christmas decorations, had nothing that resembled the holiday whatsoever. 

Aelin, as she shook her Christmas-pajama-ed ass to the obnoxiously loud Christmas music streaming through his bluetooth speaker, apparently disapproved of that fact.

Rowan cleared his throat, and loudly shut the front door behind him.

She yelped and nearly dropped the sparkling tree topper, but righted herself and turned around to look at him. “Oh. Hey.”

Rowan had to fight off another yawn threatening to take over, but he felt a small delight in unexpectedly seeing his best friend. “What are you doing, Ace?”

“You’re off early,” she said, ignoring his way question and hopping off the stool. She carefully placed the star on the coffee table, which looked like a tiny snowman village. “You don’t usually get off work until, like, ten on Christmas Eve.”

“Lorcan sent me home, said I’d been working too many hours,” he said, leaning against the back of his door.

“Great,” she said, grinning. “Here, go put these on.” She held out a pair of pajama pants, that were identical to the pair she wore.

He blinked at the red and green Christmas trees displayed across the gray, fleece fabric. “Are we really doing this?”

Her mischievous grin deepened. “Oh, most definitely.”

He shook his head, slowly. “You know, I planned on coming home, taking it easy, going to bed early…” He trailed off, taking the pajama bottoms from Aelin, once she shoved them into his chest.

“On Christmas Eve?” Aelin asked, one golden brow raised. She grabbed her phone off the side table and turned the volume down, just a little bit, as some classic, cheesy song played in the background. “You can take it easy, but we’re going to be festive, damn it.”

He sighed, knowing there was no way he was going to win the current argument, and made his way back towards his bedroom. Decorations lined all of the walls and there was some sort of lit up knickknack or garland sitting on every surface of the apartment. He paused and turned back to look at her. “How long have you been here?”

Glancing down at her watch, she said, “I got off work at two-thirty today, like a normal person, so…” She shrugged.

“So two-thirty, then?” He asked, starting his walk back to his room again.

Aelin laughed. “Pretty much.”

Rowan just shook his head as he stumbled into his bedroom. The moment he closed his bedroom door, he stared lovingly at his bed.

His perfect bed.

So comfy, so warm.

With another wide yawn, he kicked off his boots, then his jeans, and slipped on the pajama pants.

He hated to admit just how soft and cozy they really were.

And it didn’t make him want to not climb into bed any less. 

By the time he made it back into the living room, Aelin had forgotten about putting the star on top of the tree and was pulling a tray of gingerbread man cookies out of the oven.

“You need a life,” Rowan announced. “This is…”

“Amazing?” Aelin supplied.

Rowan chuckled. “A bit much.”

She smiled, setting the tray down on the stovetop. “We only get one Christmas a year. Why not make it count?”

He rolled his eyes and turned, finding a festive movie menu on his television, with a pile of blankets on his couch, two mugs of hot chocolate and decorated cookies on the coffee table. He looked back into his room and wondered how he hadn’t noticed his comforter missing from his bed.

“Oh no,” he said, letting his head fall into his hand.

“Oh, yes,” Aelin said, smirking as she moved past him and flopped onto the couch.

“Christmas movies are cheesy,” Rowan muttered.

“Not all of them,” Aelin protested, crossing her arms.

“Yes, all of them, every single one,” he argued.

“You're such a Scrooge,” she teased, picking up her mug of hot chocolate. When she pulled the mug away, she had a thick, whipped cream mustache. 

Rowan couldn’t help his laugh as Aelin’s eyes narrowed. She quickly sucked in her top lip and licked it off, a gesture that made Rowan’s laughter quickly fade.

Rowan and Aelin had been best friends their entire lives. They'd been there for each other through every high and low of their lives, whether that was Aelin graduating top of her class from the University of Terrasen or Rowan’s father leaving just shy of his fourteenth birthday.

Rowan had been in love with her for years.

She had no idea.

“Stop looking at me, asshole,” Aelin muttered, taking another sip from her mug.

Rowan cleared his throat and shook off the moment with a sneaky grin. “If only I had my camera. That would’ve made good future blackmail.”

Aelin rolled. “No need to save blackmail, you already scare every guy I meet away with your looming height and endless broodiness.”

Rowan chuckled. If only she knew. “Alright, Ace. What horrid movie are you forcing me to sit through?”

“A childhood classic,” she said, and pressed play, letting the sound of The Grinch fill the room.

Rowan narrowed his eyes and sat next to her on the couch. “You better be happy Jim Carrey is my favorite actor.”

“Is he?” She asked, with mock surprise. “I had no idea.”

Rowan grabbed a cookie from the plate and bit Santa’s head off. It seemed the best response to Aelin’s sarcasm.

The movie started — Rowan detested movies that spoke in rhyme — and the two settled in to watch. After only a couple of minutes, Rowan was yawning.

“You better not fall asleep,” Aelin said, raising an eyebrow as she looked over at him.

“So bossy,” he said, leaning forward to grab his hot chocolate. He put the mug to his lips and drank. Pausing the movie, he looked over at her. “Is there alcohol in this?”

“You’re asking me if there’s alcohol in it?” Aelin asked, shooting him a grin.

“Of course there is,” he muttered, taking a sip. He could taste a slight hint of rumchata through the cocoa and extensive whipped cream.

Aelin was good at a lot of things.

At the top of the list was a solid mug of hot cocoa.

The titles played, and The Grinch began.

Rowan used to love that movie, back before his father left and Christmas still felt like Christmas.

Aelin had had a hard childhood, too, and Rowan envied her for still loving Christmas. After all those years, she still adored the holiday. Still adored the magic of the day.

Rowan had a much more difficult time getting into the holiday spirit.

That could have been why he chugged the hot chocolate and Aelin was up getting seconds for them both before the titular character was even on screen. That pattern held until an hour later, when Aelin was grabbing a bottle of whiskey out of the freezer, the Rumchata long gone and Rowan was hollering from the living room, voice beginning to slur, “Like, if he doesn’t like Christmas, why doesn’t he just move? I’m sure there’s a community of people somewhere who hate Christmas just as much as he does.” Aelin sniggered as she set down the bottle, but he went on. “And for that fact, the Who’s just need to let the damn man live his life. He’s not hurting anyone up on his mountain.”

“He kind of is,” Aelin argued, closing the fridge and heading back to the living room. “I mean, he scares everyone and makes people miserable on purpose.”

“Yeah, because everyone’s so damn judgmental,” Rowan said, his head falling back against the couch cushions. 

“I shouldn’t be surprised that you love the Grinch so much,” Aelin grinned, falling onto the couch next to him. “Save for being green, you’re practically the same person.” 

“Not true,” Rowan scoffed. “I would never wear the outfit of a German yodeler.” 

Aelin rolled her eyes. “First of all, it’s called a lederhosen. Secondly, you’re so full of shit.” 

Rowan was unable to control his grin. 

“I could see you in lederhosen, by the way,” Aelin continued, sipping from her mug. Rowan followed her lead, the warm sensation of whiskey trailing down his throat.

“I don’t think it’s my style,” he snorted, propping one of his feet onto the coffee table.

“You’d rather wear the table cloth?” Aelin asked, giggling quietly.

“I think that’s more of your style,” he chuckled, tossing back the rest of his mug.

Aelin cocked her head and looked over at him. “Topless, huh? You think that’s my look?”

Rowan began to backpedal. “No, I mean- I just meant it was a skirt.”

Aelin began to howl, Rowan’s cheeks bright red.

“You’re something else, Whitethorn, you know that?” Aelin asked, downing the liquor in her mug.

“In a good way?” Rowan asked.

Aelin looked at him through his side eye and remained silent as she tossed an arm around Rowan’s shoulder. “You’re an interesting man, you know that?”

The alcohol he’d consumed, coupled with the scent of her around him was nearly too much and he was unable to stop his hand from resting on her thigh. “Interesting, huh? Is that a good interesting or a bad interesting?”

Aelin’s own cheeks darkened, but her fingers began to draw small circles into his shoulder. “Good interesting. You’re never boring.”

She lifted her arm off his shoulder, but was glad when his hand didn’t leave her thigh.

“I’ll take interesting,” he went on, even if all he could think about was his hand. His hand that rested on her thigh. Her thigh, which was warm and unmoving. “As long as it’s a compliment.”

Aelin cocked her head to the side, and golden strands fell into her face. “And what do you think of me? Am I interesting?”

“You’re…” His words trailed off as he turned his head to the side and looked into her eyes. Those turquoise and gold eyes that made his knees weak and his heart ache and made him feel like his chest was going to burst. “...dangerous.”

Aelin took a sip of her whiskey, licking the last sip off her lips. “How am I dangerous?”

“First of all, you have no filter,” Rowan said, unable to hide his smile. “You say whatever is on your mind without the consequences.”

“And that’s a bad thing?” Aelin asked, brow raised, still fully aware of Rowan’s hand on her thigh. 

“I say it has both its good and bad qualities,” Rowan followed.

Aelin laughed, quietly, then said, “And what else makes me so dangerous?”

“Exactly what you’re doing right now,” he said, taking a deep breath, regretting it immediately when he realized how close to Aelin he was. The smell of her spice and vanilla perfume him and if he would have been standing, he would have fallen to his knees. “You have to have the last word. It’s impossible to win an argument with you.”

“Some people would call that tenacity,” she said, bringing her legs up and tucking them beneath her.

Rowan’s fingers squeezed gently. “Most people would call that stubborn.”

Aelin tossed her head back and laughed and Rowan was powerless to stop himself from leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to her cheek.

As soon as his lips left her skin and he’d realized what he’d done, his eyes went wide.

Aelin only hesitated for a moment before lifting a beautifully sculpted brow. “What was that for?”

“There has to be a reason?” He meant for it to come out as a snarky remark, to match her tone, but it came out nothing more than a whisper.

Aelin slowly shook her head. “No, there doesn’t have to be a reason.”

Rowan took a moment to try and figure out what that statement meant. Was it an invitation? Something cordial to let him know that kissing her cheek was okay? Did it mean that she wanted something more?

The two fell back into silence and as the movie played, Rowan continued to ponder Aelin’s reaction to his kiss. He was just about to clear his throat and apologize when lithe fingers and manicured nails finger-combed through his hair.

He nearly purred.

Rowan leaned into her touch and closed his eyes for a moment, feeling Aelin move closer as well. He didn’t want to do anything to stop her, didn't want to say anything that would result in her stopping the way she was lightly scratching at his scalp, but he also wasn’t completely positive he wasn’t dreaming.

A thousand emotions rushed him, lust nearing the top of the list. He tried not to let it show, but was certain he was failing as his eyes fluttered shut one more time.

“Feel good?” She breathed.

He made a contented noise, somewhere between a moan and a sigh, and settled deeper into the cushions. With a breathy chuckle, she ran her fingers through the front and brushed the stray strands out of his face. He cracked one of his eyes open and looked at her through a heavy lid.

With his pine green gaze on her, Aelin’s cheeks heated. “What?”

He gently shook his head, but continued looking at her, taking her in. “What's on your mind?”

She took a deep, shuddering breath. “Nothing.”

“Liar,” he said, with a grin. 

“Nothing important,” she corrected, her fingers still working their magic.

Rowan watched her for a second before repeating, “Liar.”

“Why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind?” She asked, turning the tables on him.

He was quiet for a minute more before he admitted, “I was thinking about how different my night is going than I planned.”

She asked, “Yeah?”

He nodded. “See, I was planning on coming home, downing a beer or two, and passing out.” The smirk he tried to hide broke through. “Instead I find you, dancing around my house, baking cookies and just being all around cheery.”

“Are you complaining?” Aelin asked, cocking her head to the side.

“Not at all,” he replied. “I’m the luckiest guy in Orynth.”

She rolled her eyes, even though her cheeks turned a bright shade of pink. “You're full of shit.”

“No, I’m not,” he said, slowly shaking his head. “I mean it.”

Aelin couldn’t hide the smile that grew on her face and when she turned to Rowan, she found a similar smile on his own. The hand in his hair drifted down, a thumb brushing over his cheekbone

“Can I kiss you?” Rowan asked, not letting himself think of the irreparable damage he could be doing on their friendship.

With a smirk, Aelin said, “I thought you already did.”

Rowan hesitated before letting out a breathy laugh. “Well, then can I kiss you agai-.”

Before he could finish, Aelin had leaned toward him, and put her lips on his.

That hand on her though tightened and her other hand framed the side of his face, and Rowan Whitethorn forgot how to breathe as he kissed Aelin.

When they finally pulled apart, both beaming at each other, Rowan wrapped an arm around her and they settled onto the couch.

“I hope you have a pretty good present for me tomorrow,” Aelin said with a grin.

Rowan laughed, pressing a kiss to her forehead. He didn’t bother to tell her that no present would ever compare to this night, she was present enough.