#i just HOPE i get it done before the date when i published the first chapter

[lavendermatchastrife]

Please Come Home For Christmas

summary: you move back to your small town just in time for the holidays and your hot new neighbor gives you a warm welcome!

a/n: I just thought that Gojo deserved to be in a Christmas romcom. This is one part, another will be released later.. probably. Either way this can be read as a standalone. I have not written or published since like 2014, fair warning I usually only write alt characters. Please enjoy my attempt at a corny Christmas romcom.

word count: 14300+

warnings: 18+ mdni, sexual content, unrealistic and corny, reader afab, au!non sorcerers, no beta we die like men, established last name, sensitive topic mentions such as: weight/mental health, insecure!reader, implied/referenced chubby!reader, mentioned/implied Asian reader, inexperienced!reader, cocky!gojo, alcohol use, drunk!reader, drunk!gojo, swearing, gojo lowkey objectifies tf out of reader, obsession if you squint, use of 'you' not 'y/n'

Snow gently falls as you wander outside, looking for the pickup checkpoint. Cold hands rub together while you make your way through the outside of the bustling airport. You breathe a few puffs of warm air onto them, occasionally scanning the crowd for a familiar head of ashen blue hair. A sigh breezes past your mouth, of course your best friend is running late on one of the coldest days of the year so far. A cold day and you had failed to wear a pair of gloves. (In your defense you did just get your nails done.) You sigh once again, and go to grab your stack of luggage to look around for your friend some more. You’d hoped the pickup area would be less crowded considering the abrasive temperatures and slicing winds. Of course that wasn’t the case as countless people flooded the outside of the airport. Christmas was right around the corner, it made sense that it was going to be crowded regardless of where you went. Another sigh wracks your body when someone pushes against you, almost knocking you over. Before you can turn on your heel and give them a piece of your mind however, soft gloved hands obscure your vision from behind. Giggles erupt and the petite frame behind you shakes with their amusement, and you gasp in feigned shock.

 “Guess who~” the singsong voice brings a bright smile to your face.

 “Eve!” you whip around and bring your best friend into a tight embrace. She hugs you back even tighter, and you both hold each other soaking in each other's warmth and company. All care for the world lost on you during this brief reunion. The scent of her favorite perfume invades your senses as you take in a deep breath. Pulling back, your eyes process her appearance for the first time in what felt like decades. In all honesty, you called or video chat almost every day; but it had been so long since you’d actually seen her in person.

 “Oh my god I’ve missed you so much!” She cries out dramatically, pulling you back in for another hug. You chuckle, patting her head while she holds you in place.

 “I missed you too, Eve.” she lets up her hold on you, and you take note of her outfit. Her hair is styled into low hanging twin tails, a white and grey plaid scarf is neatly wrapped around her neck. A dark purple puffer jacket with white fur trim swallows her petite figure, a denim skirt is placed over a pair of thick tights that are surely keeping her warm. 

 You've known Evelyn Days since your childhood. Meeting in some dumb middle school extracurricular (not dumb; it was a book club) and it was like you’d had an instant connection. One seat next to each other and from there it was history. Coincidentally she lived two houses over, and came by whenever she felt like it. Most nights you’d spend at each other’s houses, doing projects; homework; video games; sometimes nothing at all. She was your date to prom. When you moved away from your small town it was hard, not because you particularly liked where you’d grown up; but because you’d found home in Eve. While you were close to your parents for most of your life, you’d had a falling out. Your relationship with your parents became rocky when you’d decided to pack everything up and pursue a career in writing in the big city. Most family members thought you’d been betraying your community. Rather than settle down and start a family, pick up a job at a local business, or further your education for the betterment of your town; you’d left everyone behind. A long time ago you were dead set on becoming a teacher there. Growing up changed your way of thinking, and instead you decided to become a writer. Life felt stagnant and often boring in your small town, it was beautiful and safe, however you couldn’t shake the feeling that you needed to live a little more. Your parents eventually saw your side of things, but the time spent with that tension was still hard to think about. Despite the popular opinion of your tight knit community, your friend Eve supported your decision. She was all for your abrupt change in career path and your sudden need to leave. She of course was heartbroken, but knew that it wasn’t goodbye.

 Eve smiles at you, shaking you from your reminiscing, it reaches her eyes and you feel in that moment incredibly happy to be home. You take a hold of your luggage and she helps you with any bags she can carry. As she turns on her heel, leading you out of the airport you catch up on your small town gossip. She tells you all about how Vanessa (your high school bully) still can’t keep a boyfriend. Mr. Choi (your neighbor down the road) passed away almost six months ago. Alma (a mutual friend from high school) is on her second pregnancy; twins. Some kids have been vandalizing the lake, TP-ing the cherry blossom trees. While driving home one piece of juicy gossip piqued your interest a little more than the others.

 Coming from out of state was a handsome, mysterious, new high school teacher.

 “He moved here about 4 months ago. All of the old guys grumbled as soon as they saw his moving van outside of Mr. Choi’s house. You should’ve been there, the whole town gathered at your parent’s place and watched in your front lawn while they moved his stuff in.” She giggles at that, stopping at a red light and turning her head to face you. ��No but he’s like… actually incredibly handsome. Even from far away I could tell he was gonna be way too much for our sleepy town.” You believed her, rolling your eyes as she went on about how she just knew he had a tight body. “Oh but that’s beside the point. He’s actually a pretty stand up guy. We all had our doubts, y’know, since he’s not from around here. But he goes to church every Sunday. Bought gifts for his immediate neighbors and paid a visit to the rest to introduce himself. The kids in his class love him. He’s been a pretty great addition to the community.” Her rambling brings a small smile to your face, and as she prattles on about the next person and the next subject you listen with your head turned to look outside of your window. November was looking more like December, snow beginning to fall just a little harsher as the time passed on, gathering in fluffy piles on every street and lawn in sight.

 Your surroundings start to become familiar after an hour of driving, and you feel excitement building up inside of you. Shades of blue, orange, and pink have replaced the bright golden morning, the little bit of farmland you passed through was engulfed by fluffy blankets of shimmering white. As you cross into your small town you’re greeted by the picture perfect Christmas card. A rainbow of  lights decorate the outside and inside of various shops. Big velvety red bows are tied around every iron lamp post. At the center of the town square is a gazebo, sparkling red wreaths are on the pillars of the entry point. The railings have silver and gold lights wrapped around it intertwining with a darker red garland. Christmas was only a couple weeks away, and your town was decked out for the holiday. 

 “The city decided to decorate early this year, did it a week before Thanksgiving.” Eve explains, rolling her eyes as you stare in wonder at the various Christmas light fixtures scattered around the small park surrounding the gazebo.

  “Those weren’t there the last time I visited for the holidays.” You note, turning to look at Eve and pointing in the direction of the lights. You knew your town heavily relied on the income brought in by the season, but they were really going all out.

 “I think they’re hoping to draw in more Christmas tourists or something.” She replies, finally beginning the turn down your road. “Like, a Christmas walk? A family photo event?”

 “Mm, I see.”

 As you near your house, you begin to pass by Mr. Choi’s and you try not to immediately widen your gaze in surprise. Even from a distance you can tell that the man struggling to put up decorations outside of his new house - is quite tall. Muscular but not to an obvious degree in his navy sweater. Bright red ears, a matching pink nose, eyes hidden behind rectangular shaded frames, chin tucked into a comically large cream-colored scarf. Bright white hair tousled about, shit eating grin plastered on his face when he set something up successfully. You didn’t even need to see him up close, you knew this man was gorgeous.

 “Is that our new neighbor?” You ask, trying to mask your interest but of course your friend picks up on your curiosity.

 “Sure is. Quite the looker.” She hums, slowing to a stop to wave at him when you finally pass by.

 He’s on your side of the car, struggling with a roll of string lights this time. His hands are visibly shaking as he throws one end of the chords over the other. When he registers that there’s a window rolled down and someone shouting, “Good afternoon Mr. Gojo!” He begins to jog your way. You hold your breath while turning to your friend and silently will her to roll up your window and move on. The evil look she gave you had you sending a quick prayer up to the sky before finally turning to meet your neighbor. He stops by your window, leaning down and resting a folded arm on the roof of her car to get a good look at you both. His proximity turns your nerves hot, and you lean back slightly away from him. 

 “Well if it isn’t Lil’ Miss Evelyn!” His deep voice rang in your ears, a playful lilt sending warning signals to your brain. He shifts his glasses down, crystalline blue eyes peeking over the rim. 

 “And who might you be?” Gojo tries not to stage at you too hard, but he’s taken aback by the sight of you. Your hair was braided into low pigtails, your pout had a deep burgundy gloss. He could tell you were beautiful as soon as he saw you even from far away, but he was almost winded when he came close to you.

 “I’m-“ Evelyn cuts you off, grabbing your hand and holding it close to her cheek.

 “Why, this is my beautiful wife, finally back in town.” You turn to face her, cheeks tinting pink and you laugh at her remark. You properly introduce yourself to him, and try not to dwell on his gaze that hasn’t left you.

 “Visiting for the holidays?” He asks, his gaze not-so-subtly raking across your face and then over your frame.

 “No, moving back. I figured if I could do my job anywhere, why not home?” You shrug as your response leaves your lips, a lazy and content smile spreading across your features.

 “She’s a writer, a very talented one.” Eve brags, turning her nose up in pride.

 “Oh neat, maybe I’ve read your work?”

 “I doubt it, I’m hardly popular, and I usually only write for children and teens.”

 “Then I’ll have to snag a couple copies.” He insists, pulling his phone out to look

you up. He makes a show of adding your oldest book to his Amazon cart before leaning back down, “you find a decent place in the area, Miss?” His eyes stay locked with yours as he waits for your answer.

 “Oh, just about the coziest place around.“ You point at your parent’s house across the street. “Childhood room, warm meals, rent free. I have it made.” His eyebrows raise at this, cheeky smirk making its way onto his face. You were the pretty eldest daughter of the Manivong’s he’d heard so much about. “It’s good to meet you, Mr. Gojo.” You add, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, looking up at him and finally letting your eyes meet his own. He reaches a slender hand out, long fingers grasping your own in a warm handshake.

 “It’s very good to meet you too, Miss.” He replies, winking at you. “Call me Satoru.” You nod in response and silence falls between you both. His hand holds yours, unwavering and you hope your own doesn’t start to sweat. He’s clearly hanging onto your every word and action, your nerves burn with his active perception. Your friend is long forgotten as you both have a staring contest with each other. The cold mid-afternoon air seemingly has no effect on either of you. Unbeknownst to you, Evelyn was being thoroughly entertained by the whole interaction. She’d never seen you so smitten before, and she couldn’t wait to get you alone later for the inevitable talk that would happen.

“You’ll have to drop by some time, I’ve made it a point to get to know all of my neighbors.” He leans in just a little closer, “If you’re anything like your old man, maybe you could help me with some decorating.” He suggests, he sounds playful and you aren’t sure if he’s hitting on you. You weren’t used to interacting much with anyone outside of your immediate circle, let alone the opposite gender. You always had a hard time telling when people were flirting with you or being friendly. Deciding that maybe this Gojo character is just a really friendly man, you attempt to brush off the itchy feeling building up inside of you. However you couldn’t help but be slightly intimidated by his confident aura, so you offer a meek nod.

 “Maybe, if my schedule allows it.” You’d noticed that he still hadn’t let go of your hand, and hesitantly you pull your own from his grip.

 “Well if decorating falls through, I'm sure we could find something else to do.” He’s hitting on you so obviously now and it brings just a little bit more warmth to your face. You try to sputter something witty out, however words are lost on you in your slightly flustered state. You look like a goldfish, your eyes wide while your mouth opens and closes with every failed attempt at a response. He soaks it in, smitten by how easily his words effected you. 

 “Well,” Eve decides then to intervene, “we should probably head out. She has a mountain of unpacking to do. I’ll bet her parents are waiting for her.” Eve says, getting ready to pull away. Satoru’s eyes flash with disappointment for a split second, not wanting to part from such a pretty thing. You’d been so easy to tease, so cute under his scrutiny he couldn’t help but mess with you even if it was just for a little while. He was looking forward to being neighbors with you, already.

 “I would hate to keep those two waiting.” Satoru replies, glancing from Eve back to you, “It’s been a pleasure.”

 “Likewise. Have a good night, don’t hurt yourself with all that decorating. Christmas isn’t going anywhere.” you tease, beginning to roll your window up. It wasn’t clever and you were more embarrassed while trying to match whatever playful atmosphere there was than you would’ve been if you had just said something like, “bye see y’round”. Gojo chuckles in response, pale blue eyes peering down at you from those damned rims one final time.

 “I’ll certainly try not to, especially now that I have such a beauty watching me.” He sends you a wink before he’s pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and skulking back to his yard. Your eyes are fixed on his back as Eve peels away, and they can’t seem to leave his broad figure until you’re pulling into your driveway. The very short drive to your house is spent in silence, not uncomfortable but very knowing. You had the feeling that you were in for an earful. You were grateful she’d wait until you were both comfortable in your room to even begin to bring up your vaguely salacious interaction. 

 Much like the other homes in your neighborhood, yours was decked out in various lights and fixtures. Your father had a penchant for detailed displays and Christmas was his favorite holiday. A delicate nativity scene graced the center of your front yard. Various cream colored light-up deer were placed across the rest of the yard. The front porch had dark evergreen garland wrapped around the pillars with a rainbow of sparkling lights, a classic poinsettia wreath hangs on a silver hook at the center of your burgundy front door. A sloppily put together snowman is closest to the steps of the porch, and you wrap your black and white striped scarf around it. As you tug it on tightly the front door suddenly flings open and three children resembling yourself come running after you. “Sis!” They all yell in unison, trying not to stumble over each other as they race into your arms. You wait for them, arms wide stretched and they pummel into you. All four of you fall to the ground, snow catching you and their delighted squeals allow a sigh of relief to finally escape you. It finally felt like you were home. Bumbling squeals and excited rambling fill the empty silence. Rosy cheeks beam up at you. After a good laugh, you four scramble to get back up, while you dust off the snow from yourself and the children you feel the sudden need to turn around. When you do, Gojo is leaning on the railing of his porch. His gaze brings heat to your cheeks once again, and when you meet it you abruptly turn back around. You miss the signature sly smirk he throws your way, before he turns away and into the warmth of his own home.

 “Oh my god, you guys aren’t even in snow suits, where are your jackets?!” Your exclamation brings exasperated groans and naughty giggles spread amongst your siblings. You shuffle them inside, rolling your luggage inside along with Eve. “Shoes off!” You yell at them, when you finally clamber through your doors, excitement buzzing around you; shaking off your own shoes. “Mommy~ Daddy~ your favorite is home!”

 Your home is just the same as you’d last left it. Toys scattered around, various shoes strewn near the front door. A staircase and banister directly in front of the door, leading to the second floor where your old room is. The only difference between your last visit and now are the mountains of Christmas decorations throughout every area. The same evergreen garland wraps around the handrail leading upstairs, multi-color lights wrapped along with it. Wreaths of varying themes are on every door. Leading into the living room that is just a few steps away and to the right of your front door, are snowflakes clearly made by your siblings, hanging from the ceiling or taped to the walls. A mistletoe hangs in the entryway of the living room, and as you pass through it you spot a great big Christmas tree tucked into the corner. Not yet decorated.

 You hear clattering from the kitchen, a few light swears and then your mother is rushing over to you. You’re engulfed in a soft yet firm embrace, and when you hug your mother back your father saunters down the steps from the floor above. He’s in no rush to hug you like your mother, but he smiles while he waits. “Ah, my little girl!” he pulls you in tight while you bury your face into his chest. He smells like cinnamon and a heavy aftershave (of the musk variety) that makes you cringe and pull away in disgust.

 “Whatever that is, smells awful!” you remark, scrunching your nose. He huffs and rolls his eyes mumbling something along the lines of it’s always something with you. “Do you need any help with dinner, mom?” You ask, she shakes her head with a soft smile.

“Oh no dear, you know how I get about my kitchen. Just go get your stuff situated and settle in. I’ll call you guys down when it’s ready.” You don’t have to turn around to know that Eve is buzzing at the end of the staircase, waiting for you to finally follow her up the steps and into your room. You know she’s hardly said a word to your parents, eager to ’talk boys’ with you in what felt like years.

 You turn away from your parents, finally making your way to the steps and sure enough Eve is there. She impatiently grabs your hand and drags you up and around the corner. Your room is on the left side of the second floor and the only one at the end of the hall. Adjacent to a restroom that you’d claimed as your own however it was originally for guests. Nearing your bedroom you pump the breaks, Eve quirks an eyebrow. Her silent question is not lost on you.

 “I just wanna put it out there that I really, truly, honestly don’t know what that was about.” It sounds as if you’re pleading but you aren’t sure if you should be defensive. What is there to even be defensive about? It was just a little flirting. Wasn’t it? It’s not like it was any grand display of attraction. There were a few playfully exchanged sentences. 

 She shakes her head unconvinced, and pulls you into your room, the door already slightly ajar. You stumble in, greeted by video game posters, dark bedding, a large fluffy black rug on oak floors, and an enthusiastic cat. The large tan and brown Maine coon stretches into a big yawn. He then chirps while running up to you, weaving through your legs. He had been taking a nap on your bed, the indent from his resting spot on the corner closest to your door still there.

 “Listen babe,” Eve crawls onto your bed, propping one of your pillows behind her back as she sits against the wall. “you don’t flirt. If you’ve ever thought someone was hot, you’d usually just tell me about it later.”

 “I mean, sure he was attractive-“

 “Let me finish,” you sit next to her, pulling your cat into your lap. “I think he wants you.”

 “You do?” You’re bashful and twiddle with the ends of your fingers a little, peering up at her through your lashes.

 “Oh my god he wants you so bad!” She cries out, and you both erupt into giggles. You laugh at the fact that someone as crazy good looking as Gojo even looked at you. It just felt too good to be true. “He was inviting you over; he wants to hook up with you, I just know it.”

 “I’m not gonna-“

 “You should sleep with him!” You quickly shush her, covering her mouth with your hands. You stare at her horrified, wide eyes and she mirrors them.

 “Shhhhhh, my parents will hear.”

 “Sorry, sorry, but just listen to me. You had a really bad breakup, I think just a little fling could be good for you.”

 “That sounds so easy coming from you.” You sigh, flopping down so that you’re resting with your back flush to the mattress and your legs are draped over Eve’s. Your hair is splayed out, and your cat (Dusty) fiddles with it as you speak. “I have, like, no confidence, plus. I’ve never…gone all the way with anyone before. Messing around is one thing but putting it in scares the hell out of me.” You groan, rubbing your hands over your face.

 “You could just give him some head.” Her suggestion makes you snort, “either way, he was totally into you. He’s never talked to me like that. On top of it, he’s not dating anyone around here.” While she speaks, you decide to go through your boxes. You pull out a towel and travel sized toiletries. Throwing a bag of makeup you found onto the vanity adjacent to your bed, you nod at what she’s saying. You kick your clothes off, feeling the sweat from your layered airport outfit cool your skin once exposed to your slightly chilly room.

 “Would you, y’know-” as her sentence trails off, her eyebrows wiggle with implication.

 “Oh absolutely, but like; in my dreams right?” She scoffs at that, and you defensively ask, “well would you?”

 “Nah, I’m holding out for this super cute friend of his that pops by every couple weekends.” Eve sighs dreamily and you quirk an eyebrow at this. She doesn’t further elaborate and you’re too tired to even ask about that. Rather, you finish getting together a change of clothes for the night, not wanting to look sweaty and awful for your first dinner with your family in ages. The black bra you wore accentuates the curves of your breasts rather nicely before they’re hidden behind your carefully wrapped towel; and Eve of course is no stranger to this revelation, “Did you go up a cup size?”

 “Mhm, yep. Thank you for noticing, it’s all the carbs from that bakery near my old place. It was a real problem.” You sigh again for what feels like the billionth time, recalling your binge eating during the worst parts of your most recent breakup. Your long term boyfriend had cheated on you, in your own bed, a tale as old as time. You were miles away from any support system you had, and the only comfort you’d found was through constant snack runs. Snack runs, romantic comedies, and so many tissue boxes. As a result of this you’d put on more pounds than you’d care to ever admit. During the lowest point you had decided that enough was enough and began exercising more. Not working out at a gym by any means, god knows that you did not have the capacity nor the commitment for that. You walked more, and did Chloe Ting workouts in your room when you were feeling motivated enough. “You’d think that considering I’m much more active, I’d have lost more weight. These tits just won’t go away.”

 “More o’ you to love.” You roll your eyes while she suggestively bites her lip. You tell her you’ll be back, and go to take a much needed shower. Washing away the dirt and grime from your long day eases the tension in your shoulders. Your soap smells like lavender, the scent and steam filling your bathroom almost instantly. When you finish, you walk back into your room with your freshly dried hair and a towel still wrapped around you. You shimmy on slightly flared black pants, and you thank whatever is out there that the black turtleneck you chose for the night is the same shade. Finally after throwing on a random (black and white polka dot) pair of fuzzy socks, you get started on your makeup. It’s a simple wing, just to boost your confidence if anything. You keep your base a tinted moisturizer rather than a full coverage one, not wanting to go through the pain of setting everything with powder tonight. Dark brown lines your lips and you pop a matching shade of brown gloss. Feeling content with your freshened up appearance, you adjust your facial piercings back into place. Right as you finish up, your mother’s voice calls to you from outside of your door. A gentle rap against it follows her voice.

 “-would you mind running a plate over to Satoru? Dinner is ready, I'm just waiting for it to cool off a little before serving everyone else.” Your eyes widen in panic, she wants me to run dinner over to him? You don’t feel ready to see your dangerously handsome neighbor so soon. You open your door trying to remain as inconspicuous about your raging emotions as possible, “why, don’t you look lovely dear, did you go up a cup size?”

 “She sure did!” Eve replies still propped against your wall and resting on your bed, the fluffy cat now in her lap. “She would love to take Mr. Gojo a plate of food.” You whip your head around, squinting at her as if to say “you’re dead to me” and she sticks her tongue out at you. You groan quietly before turning back to your mother.

 “I’ve only just met him, do you think that’s a good idea? Won’t it be awkward?”

 “Oh he is a very sweet boy, I doubt you’ll have any problems. Now go get bundled up, it’s gotten colder out there.” Your mother insists, thrusting a hot container of food into your hands. It’s glass, and you’re grateful for the cloth keeping your fingers from being burnt but it’s still very hot to the touch. You don’t protest, if you did you know you’d tip her off. You were the one that always greeted your neighbors, brought leftovers, ran errands for everyone over the years, it’d be strange if you were suddenly opposed to it. “I feel so bad for that poor boy, still doesn’t have a real friend around here. All he does is work, or help out around town. ‘Least I can do is give him some dinner.” Your mother was too sweet for her own good. You hum in response, resigning yourself to the task thrust into your hands. Her bleeding heart was almost sickening. You decide to throw on your grey puffy jacket again, and matching fuzzy earmuffs. Black gloves hug your fingers, when you grab onto the container of food once again you’re thankful for the lack of heat. Your mother retreats down the steps and you close the door, taking a deep breath.

 “Oh my god you’re gonna do it.” Eve teases when you turn back around to her, your red face doesn’t help whatever denial spills from your lips. “Oh my god this is so exciting.” Her jittering frame full of excitement only further adds to your growing anxiety.

 “We’re not doing anything, I’m just being neighborly.”

❄️

Eve’s knowing look haunts you when you find yourself making the small trek to Gojo’s house. The lights are on, smoke coming from the chimney. His Christmas lights, that he’d successfully installed along the railing of his porch; twinkle in tune with your beating heart. You buzz his doorbell, staring at the silver and grey tinsel wreath hanging from his white front door.

 You’re just being neighborly.

 You’re just being neighborly.

 You’re just being-

 The door opens, and instead of staring at the pretty wreath it’s replaced by a slightly dampened shirt clinging onto a muscular chest. You gulp, and your eyes trail up.

 “Hello.” You start when he doesn’t say anything immediately, already feeling awkward.

 “Good evening, Miss.” Gojo’s deep voice is sultry, a stark contrast to his cheerful tone from earlier. He sounded tired. It’d gotten darker as the hours passed, the soft twinkling from the Christmas lights doused his features into an ethereal glow. He’d showered, his hair clearly still damp, and a towel hung over his shoulders. “I see you got all dolled up just to see lil ol’ me!” His teasing implication short circuits your brain. Your mouth runs dry, you forget what you were supposed to say.

 “I-“ you look quickly from his chest to his eyes back to his chest and then away, “do you like stew?”

 “Pardon?” Gojo leans against the frame of his door, his languid pose only accentuating the muscles previously hidden by his winter coat. You really do try to keep your eyes level with his own, but if they drift could anyone blame them?

 “My mother made stew,” you bring the glass dish forward, “well it’s either soup or it’s stew; I can’t remember. It’s hot so be careful.” Your averted gaze entices him to call out your name. Its softness comforts your nerves slightly. You turn to face him again, “oh, yes?”

 “Your mother makes a great stew.” Your eyes focus on his chest while he speaks, and it felt like he’d been flexing on purpose. Taunting you, as if he knew that you were like a cat being coaxed with some catnip. (Spoiler alert: what you brushed off as nothing was entirely deliberate.)

 “Yes, she does, she puts all of her love into her cooking.” You reply, shifting your gaze to finally meet his own.

 “Won’t you have dinner with me?” His tone is enticing, pleading if you focused hard enough to recognize it. His sudden invitation catches you off guard.

 “I’m sorry?”

 “How about I drive you back over to your place, you grab yourself a bowl, and we eat back at mine?” While he tries to sound suggestive, maybe even flirtatious he mainly sounds eager. He was hooked on you, just a single interaction with you and that was it to him. Gojo wanted to take any chance he could get to have you over.

 “I don’t know you.”

 “Well that’s what dinner is for silly.” He leans down towards you ever so slightly. It began to dawn on you that Gojo was a very bold man. If he wasn’t bold then he was certainly confident, and he was certain that you wanted him too. “Drinks, of course; are on me.”

 “I’m not sure..” you trail off, a shiver running through you as the night breeze starts to seep through your coat. Your breath comes out in a fog and Gojo of course seizes that opportunity as well. 

 “It is freezing outside, do you want a ride back to your place anyway?” You glance at him again, and he senses your hesitation. His mouth begins to open, but you cut him off.

 “I would appreciate that, thank you.” His smile is blinding and he turns inside slightly to shuffle around the wall for his keys. He slips on a pair of snow boots outside of his door (near the doormat). While he guides you to his car you realize how underdressed he is.

 “Mr. Gojo, where is your coat?!” You want to scold him like you would your siblings.

 “I’m fine like this, your place is just across the street.” You can’t protest when he opens the passenger door for you, but when you slip inside it’s like an ice box.

 “My god are you sure?” Your teeth want to chatter but you will them not to. With your jaw tensing you almost beg him to go put a coat on. “You’ll catch your death in here.”

 “You really hate this shirt, huh?” His tone is incredulous but you can tell he was just joking around. Even so, he reaches behind you towards the backseat. His proximity causes you to freeze up again, puffs of your breath fan across his close figure. He was so close to you; he smelled of peppermint. His bulging chest was so close, if you moved even the slightest bit you could easily rest your head against it. His pebbling nipples from behind his shirt seemed to taunt you, damn the cold weather. Gojo was invading your space on purpose, of course, and you were innocently oblivious. He produces a navy jacket, and as he slips it on you wonder if the wide turtleneck even keeps him warm.

 “I’d hate for you to catch a cold, think of your poor students.”

 “Ah, so you’ve heard of me?”

 “Just this afternoon.”

 “How’s my reputation?”

 “It’s hard to say, so far it’s leaning towards your favor.” You tut, it’s playful. “My personal opinion however, has yet to be determined.”

 “I’ll have to find some way to get you on my side.”

 Once the vehicle is warmed up the short drive to your house is made in a peaceful silence but there is a tension growing. From what, you can’t quite place. You thank the gods when you realize that you’re in your driveway. There’s a palpable pause between you both, he’s waiting for you to leave. Your fingers twitch from their spot in your lap, and you feel yourself stalling. Looking to the side, your pretty glossed lips part, Gojo finds himself staring at them. A cool feeling washes over yourself, not wanting to part just yet; you can’t stop your mouth from moving.

 “I’ll be right back.”

 Gojo blinks, “you will?” He swears he can hear his heartbeat quickening almost immediately. 

“Yes, I won’t be long. Dinner is still okay?”

 Fuck yes it is.

 Your eyes widen and he realizes that he’d said that out loud. He doesn’t fluster easily but he coughs to cover his brief outburst. Gojo was not an eager man, as cocky as he may seem he truly wanted for nothing. He’d never had to proposition anyone before. He knew he was good looking, he had decent finances on top of it. Yet when he approached that window earlier his confidence seemed to leave him instantly. Your wide eyes and flushed cheeks were endearing, not to mention you were exactly his type. He wanted you bad.

 You don’t waste any more time and unbuckle yourself, hurrying to leave his car. You had to be quick or you’d change your mind. He watched with bated breath as you hurriedly walk up the steps and into the warmth of your childhood home. As soon as you’re out of his sight, Gojo relaxes almost immediately. He leans down to rest his forehead against the steering wheel, a dramatically whisper-shouted, “fuckkkkk yessss.” escaping him in the process. He was so in, you were right within arms reach. He felt lame, wanting you so bad despite having no idea who you were. If he was a better person with a clearer mind his almost imstwnt longing for you might have concerned him. However he was simple, all he could think of at this point was having you under him by the end of the night. Call him a sleaze, but he truly didn’t do this often, so he was going to take what he could get. Gojo’s fingers grip the steering wheel harder, and as his body thrums with anticipation he finds himself hurriedly tidying himself up. He checks his appearance in the mirror, perfect as always. Nothing in his teeth, lips glossed. His hair was neat but also messy in a sexy way, like he’d done it on purpose-yet he ruffled it some more for good measure. He unzips his jacket to get a look at what exactly he had put on last minute. The compression shirt he threw on when he had heard his doorbell ring was a lucky grab. He knew it hugged his chest well, clinging to him a little harder and a couple areas dampened with his shower slicked body. It was no surprise that the grey sweats that hung low on his hips didn’t leave much to the imagination. Yeah, he had this in the bag.

 On your side of things, your heart thrummed in a gentle acceptance. You’d left Gojo to his own devices and upon entry into your home, you were refusing to let panic set in. Your siblings (Emmett, Phoebe, Lillian) as well as Eve and your parents are situated around the table. Slices of warm bread, a tub of butter, as well as carefully placed bowls of stew were placed in front of everyone. They’d been waiting for you. Your mother is the first to greet you. Shit, you were beginning to feel bad.

 “I know this is so last minute, but do you care if I have dinner with Mr. Gojo?” You hate being inconsiderate, you know they’ve missed you. It was your first night home, after all. They were so clearly waiting for you to get back.

 “What for?” Your father sneers, his bright mood upon seeing you dampening at the mention of your new neighbor. “Why can’t he just eat over here?”

 “Well honey, there weren’t enough chairs. The old set is in the attic, I didn’t want to bother with all of that.” Your mother explains, “I think that’s a wonderful idea, dear. Getting close with people around your age is important after all.”

 “He’s in his late twenties, Maira!”

 “Making friends is important, Christian. She doesn’t have many, love.”

 “Eve is here though, that’s so rude to her!”

 “Mr. Manivong, I’m here like, every night. I won’t mind.” Eve is practically bouncing in her seat and you know you’re in for it later. She tries to not sound too excited at the prospect of you having dinner with the hottest catch in town. “I’ll keep the bed warm for you, my love.” She salutes you and you bite your lip in nervousness. You make a vague gesture towards yourself, silently asking if you look alright. Her salute shifts into an okay and then she begins to dramatically fan herself. You snort and shake your head at that. Neither of you realize your father was watching the both of you until you hear a scoff come from him.

 “Of course.” He grumbles out. Everyone in the room ignores him.

 You don’t remember seeing your mother leave her seat. Before you even realize it she has a hot bowl shoved into your hands as well as a warm wrapped loaf of homemade bread; and she’s ushering you out the door. Soft words of encouragement and excitement leave her, vague mentions of so handsome good for you, and take your time sweetheart your father will live. Your father’s grumbling fades as the door shuts behind you, and you’re then faced with the reality that you’re about to have dinner with a (handsome) complete stranger. The cold autumn air bites your cheeks, and you steel yourself. 

 It’s just dinner. You’re just neighbors having dinner.

 You open the passenger door once again, and Gojo’s slightly slackened frame straightens immediately. His features turn bright, and despite him waiting for you in your driveway; he was still happy that you actually came back out. He doesn’t waste time with useless greetings, he just makes sure you’re buckled in and pulls away. It’s begun to snow again, the fat clusters tap against the windshield filling the silence. You’re undeniably excited, your frame practically buzzes with the idea of a new friend. Friends, yeah right. You were having a hard time admitting to yourself the real attraction you were starting to feel for him.

 Gojo glances at you when he’s pulling back into his property. Once parked his eyes find themselves lingering on your thighs as they subconsciously rub together. His crystalline hues meet your own and his tongue darts out to wet his lips. His mouth had suddenly gone dry. You both try not to awkwardly clamber out, but you notice that he seems just as stiff as you are. He hadn’t bothered to lock his door, when he opens it for you he tries not to appear too eager. You leave your shoes near the entryway after you kick the snow off of them and he follows suit. You linger by the threshold, clutching your container of soup. Gojo takes it from you, his fingers lightly brushing your own, and sets it on an island in the middle of his kitchen and dining room. He makes an excited hum when you hand him the bread as well. 

 Upon entry you’d noticed how cozy his home was. The living room greeted you at arrival, black rectangular picture frames hung in several areas. Among them were photos of family members or friends, some of Gojo himself with them. The same man with stretched ears was in quite a few, you noticed. Situated next to his grey couch was a photo in a silver oval frame of Gojo and some students, on what you assumed was a field day. They were all bright smiles and peace signs. A mug that read World’s Greatest Teacher was placed next to it. The dining and kitchen area was separated by partial walls and a marble island, the bottom cupboards had various Christmas washcloths hanging from the outside of them and winter themed placemats were on his dark oak dining table. He had one of those realistic trees that looked like the branches were brushed with snow; it was in the leftmost corner of the room, closest to the door. You could tell he started decorating, a box of ornaments in varying shapes, sizes, and colors sat unopened near it. Silver and gold tinsel were still perfectly wrapped in their packaging. The only thing on the large tree were warm twinkling rainbow lights.

 He steps close to you once more, and offers to take your coat. You thank him, shuffling the thick garment off. You don’t notice how his eyes linger on your chest for a little longer than they should have. The ribbing of your sweater accentuated the outline of your breasts, and now it was his turn to be distracted. He wanted you before and seeing the curves of your body for the first time didn’t help sate his desire. It certainly didn’t help his case when you seemed to push your breasts out more as you held your hands in nervousness behind your back. Truth be told the only thing on your mind was how sticky you felt in that jacket. It was hot in your house as well as his car with the thick layers on and you began sweating. It was relieving not having it on anymore but your breasts under the warm sweater felt suffocated and the thing you wanted most was to just take your damned top off. Your uncomfortable shifting only brought more attention to them, yet you still didn’t pick up on Gojo’s virgin-like ogling. Eyes glued to one thing only: your tits.

 “Well we better eat it while it’s hot.” His deep voice cuts through the suddenly thickened air, startling you. You nod, following him to the dining area. He doesn’t bother taking any of his own bowls out of the cupboards, choosing to instead grab a couple of spoons to save time on dishes. You can respect that, you hated doing the dishes.

 Rather than being any more nervous, you decide that the sound of clinking silverware and the news playing on his television as white noise isn’t so bad. Small talk wasn’t something you excelled in. Starting a conversation was a hurdle in itself, but maintaining a steady flow while keeping the interest of the other person was overwhelming. As a result of your awkward mannerisms and ‘lack of interest’ your relationships were few and far between. The only person that seemed to bask in your silence was Eve, who could chatter away to no end. When it struck you that Gojo didn’t seem to have the desire to make you talk, it oddly comforted you. You’d always felt pressured to fill the empty space and you usually fell short of any fulfilling interaction. 

 Eating with your neighbor might not be so bad if it stayed just like this.

 Gojo clears his throat. “Your mother is a great cook.”

 “Yea, she is.”

 “She has your dad or one of the kids run me over some dinner or a snack almost every night.” He remarks, gesturing towards the island behind you. You turn around and spot a couple bags of various snacks that you could always find in your own cupboard. At the center of the island was a dish with three cheesecake slices tucked inside. You loved your mother’s cheesecake. “She made that a couple days ago, I’ve been too busy to indulge.” He pouts, going over to grab you both a slice. “I have a bit of a sweet tooth and hardly any time for myself so she’s always saving the day.” You accept the slice, eager to sate your own craving.

 “She’s pretty great, and her cheesecake is the best.” He hums in agreement, a cozy silence falls into place once more. 

 While initially dinner together was a little awkward, all of Gojo’s aforementioned confidence seemingly disappeared; eventually conversation picked up. While usually you were slow to open up, Gojo had a way of getting you to talk without trying. You’d learned that he was quite the nerd, and when it felt like conversation was running short he would bring up a game he liked to play during his free time. A book he’d read recently. An anime one of his students recommended. With dinner having been finished long ago, you’d both gravitated to his couch.

Maybe I should head out, it’s gettin’ pretty nasty out there…

No, no, it’s freezing. Why don’t you wait a little while, at least for the snow to let up?

Reruns of old Christmas specials played in the background on his wall mounted television. Glasses of red wine reflected the flames from the fireplace underneath it. Small talk about work, college, short term aspirations; morphed into steady laughter and stories from your childhood. The longer you spent on it the more you realized his sofa was just too comfortable. The atmosphere was quite intimate, you were clueless to the fact that it was deliberate. Gojo hadn’t planned on having you over so soon, it wasn’t his fault that he was thrown off a bit. Naturally, he’d set things into motion the way they should be throughout the evening. He had dimmed the lights over the course of the night, letting his fireplace illuminate his living area. A consequence free show played as a source of casual entertainment. Gojo casually lit a holiday pine scented candle in the kitchen while you had been enjoying dessert, and when things shifted to the living room he lit a sage scent that complimented it perfectly. He, of course, wouldn’t be a good host without providing refreshments. His finest and most expensive wine, a sparkling palate cleanser that wasn’t too sweet, wrapped foreign chocolates, and dried fruit were neatly placed on his coffee table in front of the sofa. He had you right where he wanted you.

 “Oh I didn’t realize you moved from there! I have a couple o’ buddies around that area.” his features brighten after learning where you moved from.

 “Ya don’t say! Small word.”

 You could feel as the minutes shifted into an hour, and then an hour and a half; your hesitancy to leave grew more and more. As your stories became more intimate, the proximity between you both shortened. While you weren’t put off by how close he was, it was something you were hyper aware of. Your elbows brushed lightly against one another on the back of the couch as he mirrored the way your head rested against your hand. If someone had peaked in on you both, they might have mistaken you for good friends or partners, the laughter and conversation flowing freely between you both. The alcohol in your system had your core feeling warm, your cheeks rosy, and your lips loose. He was practically entranced by you as you explained how your recent ex tore your heart to shreds.

 “Eve ended up flying up there for a weekend and she helped me throw his stuff out. Couldn’t just throw my mattress out though, but I guess it’s fine since I moved back here in the end.” You reach over to the coffee table for your glass of wine, taking a sip. An amused snort leaves your mouth while you watch on the tv a stop-motion reindeer jump around in glee at his crush admitting that she thought he was cute.

 “I can’t believe he cheated on you, in your own bed.” He remarks, shaking his head with a click of his tongue. Gojo can’t take his eyes off of your form, soaking in the subtlety of your enjoyment.

 “Ugh, I know! He couldn’t even make me cum in it, what made him think he could get her to?” The wine seemed to remove your filter. Despite the both of you being equally surprised by your words it brings bubbling laughter up from your stomachs. Gojo laughs in further disbelief; you laugh at your own expense.

 “Oh you poor thing,” his sympathetic coo is bordering on patronizing, “I bet I could make you cum.” The wine seemed to remove his filter as well. He had mumbled it, you don’t think he even meant for those words to leave his stream of consciousness. There’s mirth swirling inside of his piercing gaze, and something else that you can’t quite place.

 “I’m sorry?” Your laughter teeters off, and Gojo decides that he might as well just go for it.

 “How ‘bout it? Wanna fool around?” He wraps his hand around yours, and takes the wine glass from you. When he sets it aside, your breath hitches in your throat. His delicate features were tipsily flushed, much like your own. And to your absolute horror: he sure was handsome.

 “I don’t know you.” Your statement from earlier bubbles up and escapes from your throat before you can even think of stopping it. Yet you lean in closer, your fingers move from being dropped into your lap, to grazing the surface of the cushion between the both of you. He places his own hand to just barely ghost across the tips of His fingers against yours.

 “Well, we’ve met.“ he holds up his free hand, and ticks away at his fingers, “Had dinner. And now we’ve shared some drinks. I’d say we’ve been on a couple o’ dates by now.” You find yourself leaning back as he leans into you further. Fingers itching to reach out for him.

 “I’m not comfortable sleeping with you tonight.” Tonight? Does that mean it was possible in the future? Truth be told, his offer was tempting, you just felt shameful having sweat so much. You don’t miss the way his features light up with excitement, however. You both crawl backwards, and his forearms rest on either side of your head, his nose barely brushing against yours. He’d lost that dumb pair of shades two wine glasses ago, wanting to see you without any obstructions. His lips almost graze your own as he speaks.

 “We don’t have to have sex.” Right, he said he wanted to fool around. You hum, biting your lip lightly in thought. 

 “Gojo I-“

 “Satoru.” He corrects, ocean blue eyes boring into your own hazy ones.

 “I really need to shower, I sweat on the way over here, I showered earlier but I’d feel terrible-“ He’s nodding along, not seeming to care for your (very valid) excuses. They’re falling on deaf ears, because why were you wrapping around his neck? Why was he so damn mesmerizing? You felt stupid for a brief moment, and figured it didn’t actually matter if you just kissed him. So you did. It was a light peck at first, your eyes flutter closed, and he reciprocates with a peck of his own. One turns into two, two turns into three, three shifts into a deeper kiss. You make a noise in the back of your throat, or was that him? Your fingers tangle into his snowy locks, as he settles his weight between your legs. Your thighs grip his hips and it’s definitely him that groans. You weren’t ever really into kissing, it repulsed you when it went on for too long. But as Gojo experimentally swiveled his hips into yours, the slight friction eliciting a sultry moan, you think to yourself that you don’t actually mind it. Not with him at least. His tongue snakes its way into your mouth, and as it dances with your own it almost hypnotizes you. He pants in between kisses, growing more eager and frustrated with every passing moment that he grinds into you or sucks on your lips and your tongue. It grows sloppier, he eventually switches from your lips to kissing around them. Drool gathers around the edges, and he eagerly laps it up, but this only worsens the mess. He kisses down your mouth, your chin, your jaw, your neck. It’s fiery, hotter than the flames flickering across the room, you think. 

 As you become uncomfortable with the heat, you squirm to pull your shirt off. He pulls back, going to remove his clothes as well. The obvious tent in his pants causes your fingers to stutter with the button on your own bottoms. The large imprint only grows larger as his pants are removed and reveals a monster confined behind black briefs. You gulp and stand up to shimmy your pants off, walking away to put your clothes somewhere you could easily find them. You were stalling as your nerves built up again. Were you going to have to stick that huge thing into your mouth? He’s oblivious to your inner struggle, making himself comfortable on the couch below you. He taps his thigh a couple of times, a wordless beckoning when he notices you staring at him. The short distance to him has you nervously clasp your hands behind your back. When you’re in front of him again, you drop to your knees. His blatant confusion almost immediately embarrasses you. Why did he look like that? Shame wells within your gut as you believe you’d made a mistake.

 “I’m sorry, did you not want me to suck you off?”

 He stares down at you, blanking on what to say. Of course he did, he was just hoping to make out some more first. A noise of consideration thrums in the back of his throat, and then suddenly he beams at you.

 “No actually; I’m gonna eat you out.” He flashes you a cheeky grin, his confidence from earlier returning. “Awkward question but I gotta ask, are you clean?”

 “Yes I am. Haven’t done anything since I last tested.” You tilt your head to the side. “But why would you wanna do that right now? Like I said, I sweat a lot earlier.”

 “…to get you off? Because it’ll be fun?”

 “Oh, are you sure?” Your hesitation is cute, and concerning. Rather than respond he sits up and wordlessly pulls you onto the couch so that you’re next to him. He lays you out gently, and your heart thrums. “I’m not sure if I’ll finish tonight. I’m really okay with just doing you. I wouldn’t want to put you through such a hassle.” You ramble in embarrassment, your shame at being so hard to sexually handle evident.

 Your previous partners were less than attentive. They’d usually moved on or given up after a few minutes. Suffice it to say you certainly hadn’t finished from any head you’d briefly received. You just couldn’t help the numb feeling you’d felt every time someone touched you intimately. Unbeknownst to you Gojo was not only competitive, he also loved a good challenge. There was a chance to be the best head you’d ever gotten, and the first to make you cum all in one go. You feel his breath travel from your clavicle, nibbling kisses that wander downward over your navel. Your shivering at the anticipation of his touch is not lost on him. 

 “Gotta be insane to think that I’m not gonna eat this pussy tonight.” As he said that, he finally spread your legs for him. Your knees touch the couch at your side. His hands are flush against the swell of your thighs; holding them in place. Gojo peppers the ghost of short and soft pecks against your clothed sensitivity. You try to resist the urge to buck up, but at your subtle movement he firmly buries his face against the fabric. It’s a silent encouragement to do what you want. You aren’t used to it, and in that moment you are so grateful that you had the foresight to match your panties with your bra. He continues to kiss the same area, they deepen with each one. He could sense your lack of confidence, your inexperience, and he was perfectly okay with taking the lead. You’re unsure when he does it, but your panties are suddenly pulled to the side. The wet muscle that was buried in your mouth earlier finds itself dancing with your lower lips this time. There was a tense silence in the room, save for the crackling of flames in his fireplace, but as he starts to work you; your breath audibly hitches. You squeeze your eyes shut, and the pad of his tongue runs up and down from your twitching hole to your buzzing clit. It’s almost terrifying, your hands go to your mouth to suppress the noises begging for an escape. You can’t help but pant as his tongue continues to torment you. He applies just the right amount of pressure, soft lapping at your clit so wet and noisy.

 “Ngh.” Your back arches, he applies just a little more pressure up and down your slit before sucking on your clit. It’s hypnotizing but you find yourself becoming overwhelmed. One of your hands snakes into his cloudy tresses, “Wait, Gojo, I’m getting scared.” Your voice comes out high pitched and whiny, it’s the first thing you’ve said since he laid you out. He moans against you upon hearing you, “This is scaring me a little, can you slow down?” The breathlessness in your voice makes the hard-on behind his briefs throb almost painfully.

 “Call me Satoru, sweetheart.” He kisses your clit then, having missed feeling the hard nub against his soft lips. “Of course I can slow down, whatever you want.” He doesn’t sound put off, he wasn’t complaining about his jaw, he wasn’t just whipping his dick out. Yet you can’t help but feel embarrassed and like you’re inconveniencing him. With your inexperience taking over you mumble and push his face back, “I’m sorry I’ve never really done this for so long before, if you want we can switch.” He pouts at the feeling of your warm hand holding him in place.

 “What do you mean ‘so long’ it’s barely been ten minutes.” He’s puffing out a playful laugh, and then weaving his arms around your thighs. Hugging them almost to bring your arousal closer to his face, he gently rubs the plush of them as he starts to gently lap at your slit again. You tasted amazing, he had to focus on not cumming in his pants as soon as he was met with your dripping sex. You were paranoid for nothing, Gojo couldn’t get enough of you.

 “Gonna keep going until you cum, we can stay here the whole night for all I care.”

 “I’ve never finished like this before.” You admit, hiding your face behind your hands. It’s like the embarrassment can’t leave your body. His ministrations don’t stop, and they start to grow in intensity at your words. You’d been spurring him on whether you had meant to or not. 

 “Shouldn’t have told me that sweetheart, now we’re really gonna be here all night.”

 “Gojo, I can’t stay here all-“

 “Satoru.“ The deepening of his voice is just barely a growl, and your hips buck in response. 

 You suddenly yelp, because instead of feeling his tongue enter you; you feel him shift so that one of his hands is positioned at your entrance. A warm digit probes the outside of it, not entering but teasing you. Your thighs clench around his head and he groans at this. “Fuck yeah, you want it?”

 “I, I don’t know. Your fingers are so long.” You sound like you’re on the verge of tears, and if you were being truthful you probably did want it. You were absentmindedly grinding your hips, swiveling them into his prodding touch.

 “You think my fingers are long? Wait till you see my dick.” His teeth playfully nibble at your thighs while he waits for your permission. You inhale sharply, still trying to suppress the noises of pleasure he so desperately wanted you to let out.

 “A little is fine, but go slow please. It’s been a long time.” Your soft and curious gaze pierced his own, and he knows he’s in for it. You’re gonna be the death of him.

 He tuts, “I don’t know.~ It doesn’t sound like you want it bad enough.” His finger betrays him, and it shallowly teases your entrance. Labored puffs of air leave your mouth at this. Your eyebrows pull together and he could cum on the spot just by the sight of you. There’s an almost magnetic push and pull between you both. As your hips continue to gyrate, furthering in intensity as your frustration grows; he’s barely teasing you and pulling himself in the opposite direction just to lead you on. Never fully leaving you, remaining firm in just grazing. Occasionally a faint whimper will escape you, and he rewards you with pushing in just a fraction deeper each time. He was finding out that you didn’t have to try hard to get what you wanted from him. 

 “S…Satoru.” Just hearing those few syllables tumble from your trembling pout has his hips stuttering into the couch. He’d picked up a steady grind of his own while waiting for you to just give in to your desire. “I want it.” It’s barely audible and he makes an incredulous noise in the back of his throat.

 “Pardon?” He’s tugging your panties down, tucking the delicate purple lace into the cushion of his sectional. His breath ghosts over your sensitive nub, he can’t help but reward it with a sloppy kiss. You mewl almost instantly, the loudest you’d been all night. “Yeah, you got somethin’ you wanna say to me?”

 “I want it.” You sound so sure now, your cares finally departing from your conscience. What did this matter in the end? You huff, caressing his face and he eagerly leans into your touch. He’s kissing your fingers, and peppering your wrist with his affection.

 “You want it bad?” He’s lifting your hips just enough to provide himself with better access to your dripping folds. The sight of him through your half-lidded eyes has you panting once more. You eagerly nod, continuing to caress his face and massage his scalp.

 “Nnmmh!” Your throat draws out sickeningly sweet whimpers once he’d begun his descent upon your flower once again. This time with added vigor, and a delicious friction you’d never felt before. His experimental kitten licks from earlier evolving into deep drags of his tongue against each and every dip. With his glossy lips on your clit, they alternate between harsh sucking and firm circular motions. He still doesn’t finger you, your fear and hesitation from earlier finally blooms into a deep desire for more. “Satoru.” You mewl, the drag of your voice heavenly, the breathy pitch sardonically kissing his senses.

 “Yeah, baby?” He’s removed himself from you with an obscene pop from your clit, his mouth and chin coated in a glossy sheen of your slick and his saliva. You’d been grinding against him harder, searching for more friction.

 “I want your fingers in me so bad, Satoru.” You’re begging at this point, pulling him up briefly to kiss him in the hopes of sweetening him up. You’re entangling tongues, he’s dragging his clothed erection dangerously across your weeping petals. The sound of your mouths colliding and teeth mashing quickly fills the air once more. Gojo’s hot touch finds itself attached to your breasts, and he wastes no time finally ripping that god forsaken bra off. Your breasts spill out of the cups, and two twinkling pieces of jewelry flirt with him at eye level. He’d instantly pulled away from the intensity of your lip lock as soon as your pierced nipples had made contact with the air. His large hands find purchase on your plush chest and you push into his touch. The gentle massage he gives you almost relaxes you more than it arouses you. The friction from his hips against yours, his soft suckling on your neck, and the fervent kneading of your breasts makes you lightheaded in the most tantalizing way. He’s finally snaking his way back down to your core, kissing along that same fiery path. He doesn’t say anything, too entranced by your every movement. A single digit almost immediately bullies its way past your resistance. The inside of you is tight, warm, and so obnoxiously wet. His finger slid in so easily thanks to the abundance of your natural lubrication. You finally moan out, arching once again into the pleasure he gives you. He’s working you, in and out, in and out. Licking and sucking up and down from your entrance right back to your most sensitive bundle of nerves. Your toes begin to curl, you’d never felt this electric before. Your hips rock yourself against his face, and you give in to the pleasure. Allowing yourself to close your eyes, run your fingers through his silky hair.

 “This pussy tastes so good, sweetheart.” Your absent nod in his direction has him biting back a snicker. You’re lost in the pleasure but he wants you to do more than this. He wants you to feel so much more. He wants you desperately. His pace picks up in intensity, lapping at your clit and steadily thrusting two fingers into you. The addition of another digit has you immediately blanching.

 “Ah, r’there!” They thrum against your sponge-y sensitivity, “ah, ah, ah! So good!~” And while your moaning doesn’t grow in pitch, you are hardly being loud, your vocalized praise encourages him. Targeting your g-spot he nibbles and suckles on your clit relentlessly. His wrist is escaping you fast, pounding back into you harder each time. Your honey squelches and it fills the room drowning out the noise from his crackling fireplace. You don’t notice him reach over to shut the specials you’d previously been watching off. You also don’t notice the way he occasionally pulls his mouth away from you to take in the intensity of your being in the throes of pleasure. He was determined to get you off. As he’s working back into another rhythm with the intent to finish you, he hits that hot spot over and over again. “Satoru~ ngh.” Your head is thrashing back and forth, “Satoru…is t’much I feel weird, baby, oh- slow down.”

 “Fuck, what did you just call me?” He suddenly stops his ministrations and you almost sob in frustration as your teetering peak is pulled away from you. You stare at him, eyes fogged from your heat and confusion. Didn’t he want you to call him by his first name? He kisses you then, kicking off his briefs. It’s more intense than earlier, if that were even possible. He’s between your legs and you feel something smooth prod at your slippery entrance.

 “B..baby?”

 “Shit, call me that from now on, sweet girl.” His words are punctuated by a shallow swing of his hips against you, length sliding against your thigh. He’s staring into your eyes, they’re blown and dark to an animalistic degree; his hair is disheveled into beautiful chaos by your own hands. He’s intimidating to say the least, and yet something about him was eagerly welcoming you in. If Santa existed then you’d hoped you would see Satoru wrapped under your tree for Christmas. By gods was he beautiful.

 “Who’s making you feel good, baby?”

 “Satoru is?” Your questioning tone has him rasping out a humorous gasp between a sloppy kiss and he’s moaning into the next one.

 “Fuck yeah, call out to me.” He’s massaging the fat of your breasts, running his fingers along your sides soothingly, squeezing along the plush of your tummy, kissing your face, your lips, your neck. Finally he’s back to persistently penetrating your gummy insides. The slick walls can’t decide whether to suck him up or push him out, and his dick thrums with want at the thought of feeling you around him. Satoru sits on his haunches, your lower half thrown over his own, and if he moved even a little bit he could insert himself into you if he was so inclined. Instead, he’s watching you writhe under his touch, fingering you without a care for your overstimulation. Rubbing his spare hand across your clit, skilled digits flat as they rub impossibly fast against it.

 “Mmm, ha,” you pant, tears pricking the corner of your eyes, “ah wait!” The pounding motion of his fingers going in and out of you grows into that intensity once again. Pounding. Pounding and pounding as he’s rubbing your sensitive bud with no sign of letting up. “Satoru please! Something weird is happening. Ungh!” Your voice peaks almost pathetically, and he’s laughing at you. Your writhing is amusing and so attractive to him he doesn’t know if he should be euphoric or in disbelief.

 “Haha, look at you! You said you wouldn’t cum! You’re almost there aren’t you? You wanna cum, Miss?” He’s throbbing against your backside, sliding in any way he can against you. Desperate for sweet friction but determined to ensure that this isn’t about him. Wet beads of precum staining the skin where the head of his member slides freely. “Cum for me? Don’ be scared you’re just cummin’. Are you tellin’ me you’ve never felt this before?” You shake your head profusely, and grab his wrist to find purchase. He doesn’t stop, his pounding almost bruising. Finally his fingers speed up just right against your clit and the small shriek that tumbles past your sobbing makes him choke out an obscenely loud moan. It sounds pornographic and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was the one being brutally pleasured. Despite barely any stimulation he was clearly as fucked out as you were, and he practically cums when a massive wave of sparkling slick splatters across his abdomen. It paints his wrist, his abs, his face, your thighs. Fat tears fall from your drunk eyes and he’s moaning again, “oh fuck-“ sorry, sorry, sorry, “you just squirted on me!” He’s laughing out loud, and your embarrassment makes you want to run away. That hasn’t happened before, I’m sorry! Gojo lays you down once again, his fingers barely leave your tight cavern.

 “I’ve never done that before.” Your pathetic whining from embarrassment nearly sends him over the edge, “oh my god I’m so sorry!”

 “No, no, no, awe, baby.” He’s cooing, kissing you once again, “uh uh, no apologizing, that was so sexy I almost came just from the sight of it.” you’re moaning some more at his soothing.

 “It was good, baby? 

 “So good, sweetheart.” his fingers slow to a stop. He brings them to his lips, gingerly

sucking them clean. His vulgar display has you clench around nothing. Satoru then positions his erection flush against your lower lips.

 “Wait, Satoru, I’ve never...” Your voice trails off and he sucks in a sharp breath eyes practically rolling to the back of his skull as he waits for you to finish your sentence, “I haven’t gone all the way.” You mewl when he pulls away to smack his hardness across the sputtering wetness.

 “Shit I’m gonna cum, you’re gonna make me cum.” He’s panting, and the state of his disheveled hair and flushed cheeks brings a pang to your heart. “I wasn’t gonna put it in, can I just feel you?” He licks the tears that escape from your eyes, and sucks on your desperate lips. His own desperation manifested in the form of shallow ruts against your overstimulated pussy. You nod, spreading your legs to welcome him further into your embrace. He tries not to let surprise take over his features as you reach out your hand to lay flat over his sliding prick. You apply pressure, and the both of you groan as a result. With you pressing his throbbing erection against your plushy folds as he slides back and forth it provides a sweet relief he’d been desperately needing. He was shameless in voicing his noises of pleasure, he was so sensitive considering it’d been a long time for him as well. Your noisy slick sloshing and creating a mess of you both fills the room. “God, this pussy is the best. So good baby.” His rutting picks up in pace, he tenderly holds your face just to kiss you hard. You’re both moaning into each other, noises filling his space so naturally.

 Slip and slide.

 Slipping and sliding.

 Your lower halves dance with each other so agonizingly, and you find yourself pushing him back to grind yourself on him. “Satoru I’m close again, ah.” Your head is thrown back, it’s as if you’re a siren calling out to him and he can’t keep his eyes off of you. Your features are cast in the dazzling lights of his tree. “Ah, ngh, ah!” You lean down, hands splayed across his pale chest, breasts scrunching together and he almost thrusts into you. He grabs your thighs, rocking you harder onto him. His groaning and grunting as your sweat and juices flow freely between you makes your slippery descent all the more intense. It’s sudden, your orgasm wracks through your entire body, “oh fuck!” You lean down to desperately kiss him, and he finds it adorable. You’re so cute and as he’s swiveling his hips upwards to chase his own high he lets you know.

 “So cute baby, so good for me. Cum all over me that’s right, I’m gonna cum too.” You were an affectionate and kissy partner, everything he’d ever wanted.

 “Cum for me,” you kiss him again, sucking on his bottom lip and then you bite it hard drawing back with a pop, “cum for me, baby.” He’s about to, his eyes roll back into his skull, but before he can you’re pulling away and making your way down his figure this time. You lick a thick stripe of saliva from his heavy balls all the way up to the tip of his swollen prick. You take him in easily, mouth being stuffed impossibly full. You’d been wanting this all night, to feel him down the back of your throat.

 Gojo was big, and you knew there was no way you’d be able to fit all of him into your mouth. That certainly didn’t stop you from trying, and as you’re sputtering and choking on him he gasps in encouragement. He’s seeing stars regardless, tensing to keep from spilling down your throat immediately. He steals a glance at your bobbing head, your timid freshly manicured fingers wrapped around the base of his cock and pumping what your mouth can’t take. It’s too much, and with only a couple measly thrusts he’s spilling into your mouth.

 “What are you an angel?!” He’s gasping, moaning like a porn star once again. Although you didn’t know much about him, Gojo being loud in bed somehow just made sense. “Shit take it, take it, take it.” He’s fucking his seed into your mouth, you attempt to breathe heavily through your nose and suppress as many gagging noises as you can. It’s sloppy, and bubbling past your lips and Gojo can’t stop himself. Drunk on you, drunk on the feeling of your lips; nether and otherwise against his dick. “Fuck I think I love you baby, holy shit you’re the best.” He’s rambling and you try not to let his fucked out confession freak you out. Rather than dwell on his pillow talk, you make a show of swallowing his load, sticking your tongue out once you’ve finished. “Shit come here, gimme a kiss sweetheart.” He’s grabbing you by the shoulders, pulling you to straddle him. You lean in to kiss him, the intensity from your orgasm fizzling out as you languidly rub your swollen lips together. You taste bitter and sweet at the same time, an almost dangerous combination for Satoru. The kiss you both share is dizzying, raw lips drawing together just to keep feeling each other. He sucks on your tongue and fondles your breasts some more, his hands having felt lonely without you in them. You think to yourself that if he did love you after one night of fooling around that you might be okay with it. 

 “Did you really enjoy it, Satoru?” You ask, but he doesn’t even need to answer. Not when he is gazing back at you with half lidded eyes, a lazy smile, sloppy hair, and a flushed chest, neck, and face. His lithe hands rub your sides in comfort, your shoulders in appreciation, your hips in adoration.

 “Gimme another kiss, sweetheart.” And you do, with no hesitation. It’s languid, romantic even. “Shit, wanna go again?”

 “I have to go home, Satoru, next time though.” His dumb smile has you bashfully looking away. When he reaches his pinky out in front of you, you grasp it.

 “Promise?”

 “Promise.” There would be a next time? He’s stupidly elated just thinking about such a promise. You’re grinning to yourself, without realizing it you stroke his hand soothingly. Fingers intertwining, there’s another feeling between the both of you blossoming.

 “So, about your Christmas plans?”

❄️

Satoru offered to give you a ride home once you’d both sobered up and you happily accepted. Before leaving, he was attentive, making sure your body was okay, that you weren’t sore anywhere. Tentative fingers brushed over your body with a dampened and warm washcloth, cleaning any mess that was made. He located your discarded clothes, handing them to you minus the pair of panties you came with. They were conveniently misplaced but your brain was so foggy that you didn’t care. He was clearly the best sexual partner you’d ever had, and you hoped that the good chemistry would be a constant among the both of you.

 The drive back was light, there wasn’t an awkward atmosphere, rather he seemed to be in a great mood and it rubbed off on you. You’re looking out the window, rosy cheeks scrunched into a giddy smile. His hand rested on your thigh, a caring thumb ran soothing circles in place. It was snowing again, the tiny flakes melted as they landed on the window. When you pull into your driveway for the final time, your hand meets his own where it rested.

 “I had a really good time.” you admit, although it was rather obvious. You sound hesitant like you weren’t sure how he would act around you now that everything was said and done. He didn’t like it. He brings your laced fingers up to his mouth, kissing your knuckles as he holds it against his cheek. 

 “We could have a better time tomorrow.” You smile and look away again.

 “I don’t know…” but you don’t pull your hand away, instead you bring yourself closer to him. You peer at him, biting your bottom lip nervously. “Isn’t that too soon?”

 “Never.” 

 “Hmmm…” you look at your house. The lights are off inside, your rooms window is at the front of the house on the second floor and you can see that it’s still on. You roll your eyes fondly, of course Eve was still awake. She confirms that by peeking her head out of your curtain, she spots Gojo’s car and immediately shuts it. “Well, I’d love to.”

 “Then I’ll see you tomorrow, sweetheart.” He kisses your hand again and you think to yourself that you wished he would just kiss you again. As if reading your mind he gently cups your face and brings you in for one. It’s languid, and while it wasn’t meant to be deep it naturally evolved into something bordering on intense. He can’t get enough of you, his insatiable lips ravage yours and you crawl into his lap across the way. He leans his seat back, pleased with the steamy development, and his hands go from caressing your face to traveling down your back and finally down to grope the plump of your backside. You whimper, but continue the lip lock. Your tongue experimentally traces his bottom lip and he groans, opening up for you to explore him again. He’s rutting his hips up, it isn’t serious by any means he had no actual desire to take it any further than that. You grind down on him, your movement turning sloppy. Before things can blossom into anything else, you pull away, a string of saliva snapping between the both of you. His hands are still on your ass, and yours are in his hair. He’s flushed, panting, and you can’t help but kiss him again. Your neediness makes him laugh but reciprocates all the same. He was so messy but the way he handled you was absolute perfection. You break apart, finally, and you look behind you to make sure no one else is around. Paranoid your family might see you.

 “Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow.” You finally say, departing from his warmth painfully. You leave then, closing his car door gently as you do. You look behind you and wave, he’s smiling while resting his chin on his toned arms.. They’re folded over his steering wheel while he watches you go inside. He waves back, a little shake of his wrist and you finally disappear into the warmth of your home. The walk of shame (at a less than appropriate hour) was surprisingly not as bad as it could have been. No one is up to catch you other than your mother in the kitchen, she’d gotten up for a midnight snack and met you while you were putting the dishes in the sink. They’d be tomorrow's problem. 

 “How was it dear?” She asks gently, sliding a glass of hot chocolate your way.

 “Good, we watched some Christmas specials over dinner and talked for a bit.” you know that it shouldn’t have taken you this long to get back, and she knows that too, but she smiles and nods along.

 “That sounds wonderful, we’ll invite him over next time.”

 “How about tomorrow?”

 “I’m sure he’d love that.” You smile back at her, you would love that too. You sip your cocoa until it’s gone, chatting with your mother about unimportant things. She retires before you do, and you quietly make your way up to your room. Your creaking footsteps cause you to cringe, and as soon as you’re twisting the doorknob your friend jumps up from her spot on your bed.

 “Fucking finally, oh my god tell me everything!”

a/n: erm would y'all let gojo go down on u the first day u met him?

◼️yes

◼️definitely

◼️absolutely

i scattered different references to a few christmas songs so i hope y’all catch em :3 merry xmas and happy holidays hope y'all enjoyed ~🐇🎄❄️

header by @strangergraphics 🖤

[miwachan2]

Remember, take all the time you need, no one is rushing you at all

Your mental health matters most, and we can be patient no matter how long it takes

Make sure to drink water and eat as well as get some sleep <3

i havn't updated is ALMOST A YEAR I need this second chapter done PRONTO!!

RRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!

[heartshapedmisery]

𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐧 𝐮𝐩 | art donaldson

summary ― .ﾟ���‪ ˖ art is your tennis coach, but after he tells you to "loosen up" a bit, you're not sure if your boundaries are strictly professional anymore.

warnings ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖  MINORS DNI ! ( 18+ ) | language, graphic smut, unprotected sex ( wrap it before u tap it y'all ), soft!dom!art, sub!reader, sexual tension, art gives reader a massage, praise kink, p in v sex, fingering, if i missed anything, please let me know!

word count ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ 3.2k +

pairing ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ standford!art donaldson x fem!stanford!reader

author’s note ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖  saw challengers the other day .... its all i can think about rn so i made a fic! hope u enjoy! also i know nothing about physical therapy so if this makes no sense I'm sorry

publishing date ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖  may 5th, 2024 | © HEARTSHAPEDMISERY

tags ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ @madnessandobsession @hashtagtobefuckinghonest @mitskilover23

A bead of sweat rolled down your temple as your feet carried you quickly across the tennis court, your eyes refusing to leave the bright yellow ball that was coming towards you from the opposite side of the net.

"Keep your eye on the ball, sweetheart!" Art barked, a few blonde strands of his hair falling in his eyes as he watched you simply miss the ball once again.

The nickname caught you off guard, dismantling your focus and causing you to falter your movements. Your arm swung out far enough, but your racket was just below the ball, allowing it to fly right over it and hit the concrete behind you. A tinge of pain seared through your right shoulder, making you wince.

"Shit!" You grumbled in annoyance, your eyes refusing to meet Art's since you knew he would scold you for your miss.

You threw the racket in your hand down at your feet, irritated that you hadn't kept the ball going back and forth between you and Art for more than 2 times in your last 5 tries.

Your mind was somewhere else; normally you were a beast on the court, dominating your competition (all thanks to Art). Today, not so much.

"What was that, the 6th time?" Art scoffed, waving his racket about in the air. "What's wrong with your shoulder?" he pointed his racket in your direction, a look of concern written on his face.

You didn't answer him, walking off the court over to the bench and grabbing your water bottle. He followed you, taking the bottle from your hand when you were done and squirting the liquid into his mouth. Your eyes watched him carefully, following the water droplets as a few fell from the corner of his mouth.

"You're tense, I can see it all over you when you're moving around out there," he said, motioning to your shoulders and neck. Your eyes caught the way his polo clung to his toned chest, sweat starting to seep through from his constant movement.

"I'm fine," you told him, shrugging his words off. "Just a little distracted, is all."

A lopsided grin cracked across his face, not buying your excuses.

"Come here," he motioned for you to move towards him, which you hesitantly responded to before walking to him. Carefully, his hands grabbed your shoulders and spun you around, your back meeting his front harsher than you had expected.

Your heartbeat quickly picked up, the feeling of his hands on your bare shoulders felt hot and heavy on your skin.

This wasn't the first time Art has caught you off guard like this. You had noticed over the past few months how touchy he could be, whether he was correcting your form or bidding you good job after a match with a rub on the back.

And no matter how much you denied it, you couldn't help but love every second of it. Despite being your coach, he had an effect on you that no one else did. He drove you wild, but of course, he never realized that.

At least, you thought he didn't.

"Your shoulders are very tight, especially your right one. That's why you're not getting a lot of movement," he spoke softly in your ear, his fingers running up the sides of your arms before finally gripping your shoulders. His fingers squeezed your flesh gently, burning against your skin enough to make you let out a sigh he undoubtedly heard.

"You need to loosen up a little bit, sweetheart. All this stress is messing you up, and we can't have that." his voice was smooth and sultry, a total contrast to what it had been only moments before on the court.

His fingers kneaded at the muscles at the top of your back, working out all of the kinks and knots that inhabited your shoulders. Your eyes quickly fell shut as you leaned into his touch, getting lost in the feeling of his hands on you.

"Ah," you breathed out, the feeling of his thumb reaching a spot that unraveled the tension in your right shoulder. "Right there."

You couldn't see it, but a wide smile bloomed across his face at your words, his thumb moving to massage the muscle deeper than before. You let out a breath groan, which (as much as he hated to admit it) indubitably went straight to his lower half.

He didn't expect you to be so responsive to his touch. It surprised him, but that didn't mean he was opposed to it.

"Yeah?" He breathed. "Does that feel better?"

He knew exactly what he was doing, even though you were so oblivious to his shenanigans.

"Yes," you groaned, allowing your head to fall back slightly. You breathed in deeply as he continued his work at your muscles, watching you revel in the relief at the top of your back.

To anyone else, his actions only looked like a coach helping his player work out an injury. But to you and Art, this was months of tension finally boiling over. The way his hands worked across your skin, the pleasurable sighs you let out. It was the two of you crossing a boundary you had never expected to abandon.

"Art!" a voice sounded from the opposite side of the court, making your eyes snap open. His hands stopped their movements, but he didn't remove them from your shoulders as he looked over his shoulder at whoever was trying to get his attention.

It was Mike, the Athletic Director at Stanford.

"Mike," he stated, greeting him with a nod. His voice almost sounded disappointed, not appreciating that he had interrupted the two of you. "What can I do you for?"

His hands finally left your shoulders, your skin feeling dull and light from their wake. You quickly snapped yourself back to reality, brushing away the hot feeling in your chest as you watched the exchange between Art and Mike.

"I just have some paperwork for you to fill out for the semester," he said, "Won't take long."

You watched Art's expression lighten, giving him a slight nod before agreeing to meet him in his office and Mike dismissing himself from the court.

Your gaze met Art's as he turned back to grab his gym bag off the bench and slung it over his shoulder. You watched him carefully, before taking your own bag off the bench.

"Put some ice on that shoulder," he pointed to your right side as he slipped his Ray Bans onto his face to shield his eyes from the sun. "I'll come check on it later, okay?"

You nodded, your mind already racing at the thought. You watched him as he walked away from your view, a feeling of excitement and confusion bubbling in your chest.

You didn't see him again until after lunch. You had been wandering around your small apartment in nothing but a tank top and pajama shorts (due to the blistering California heat outside) with a bag of ice taped around your shoulder, trying to keep your mind occupied until Art arrived.

Your afternoon classes had been canceled so you decided to take it easy at home, trying to keep your arm relaxed as much as possible.

When you heard a simple knock at your door, the feeling from earlier that morning had returned, rising in your chest and making your neck hot at the thought of him. He stood nonchalantly at your door when you swung it open, greeting him with a warm smile.

"Hey," you said, moving out of the way to let him in. He sent you a small smile back, following you into your tiny living room.

"How's the shoulder?" he rasped, taking a look at the ice pack on your arm that was starting to leak.

"Pretty good, hasn't really changed much. Still a little sore, though." you told him honestly, still confused as to why you had tweaked it so bad.

"Mind if I take a look at it?" he asked, gently running his hand up the side of your arm. The sensation sent chills down your spine as you nodded simply. He had to stop doing that or else you were going to go crazy.

"Here, sit down between my legs with your back towards me," he motioned to the couch, sitting behind you before moving to remove the athletic tape from the ice pack. You could feel his warmth behind you, his breath hot against your shoulder as he peered at your injury.

Your breath hitched as you felt his finger hook under the right strap of your tank top, your head turning slightly to catch his eye.

"Do you mind if I move this down?" he asked gently, eager to make sure you were okay with him touching you like this. You nodded, a little quicker than you had anticipated.

"Yeah, that's fine," you breathed, before turning back around. Carefully, he pulled the strap down, exposing your bare shoulder to him. Your eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of his calloused hands against your smooth skin, his fingers slowly beginning to knead at your muscles.

"I feel a lot of tension here still," he told you, his hand gently moving to raise your arm up slightly over your head. You felt a pop in your joints, an instant feeling of relief washing through your shoulder. A breathy moan escaped your lips at the movement, grateful that it felt better already.

"Shit," you breathed, thankful for his skillful hands. "That feels good."

Art let out a breathy laugh, making your heart swell. "Lean back against me, I want to try something."

You followed his instructions, your back meeting his toned chest, sinking into his embrace. The smell of his cologne invaded your senses, making you sigh.

Carefully, he wrapped his arm around your collarbone, his left hand laying flat against the front of your shoulder while his right hand gripped the back of your bicep where your arm met your shoulder.

His hands were slow and gentle but still had you unwinding more with each movement. His left hand gently pushed your shoulder back as his right pushed your arm forward, earning another pop in your joints.

"Oh my god," you groaned under your breath, your hand subconsciously moving to grip his muscular forearm without realizing it.

"That's it, sweetheart," he cooed in your ear as you let out a sigh of relief. "Does that feel better?"

'So much better," you told him honestly, still holding onto his arm. Your eyes quickly fell down to it, an idea circling in your mind before your hand slowly began to move. He watched you carefully, his eyes following your freshly manicured hand moved to settle over his, before carefully moving his hand down your chest.

"But I think I'm still a little tense, Art," you breathed, biting your lip as his fingers ghosted over your hardened nipple before you moved it down further to your abdomen. His mind finally caught on to what you were trying to get at, a sly smirk cracking across his face.

"Could you help me?" you whispered, settling his hand on your lower stomach, dangerously close to where you wanted him most.

He didn't respond, his hand simply moving from underneath yours and allowing his fingers to slip underneath the waistband of your skimpy shorts, your breath hitching. He moved his free hand from your arm and down to your thigh, gently spreading them apart.

You felt him exhale a deep breath, before finally answering your request. "Of course. Anything to help my star player."

His fingers broke the barrier of your panties just as the words left his mouth, dipping into your soaked core without warning. You let out a moan as his lips pressed gentle kisses to your bare shoulder before moving up your neck and settling just below your ear.

His middle and ring fingers played at your clit, rubbing it gently before dipping back into you, curling his fingers inside of you sweetly.

A moan sounded from your plump lips, your head falling back on his shoulder. Your hand gripped his bicep as he continued to give you what you wanted, writhing in pleasure at his movements.

You could feel his hard-on press into your back as you sunk into his embrace, turning you on even more.

"How does that feel, baby?" he rasped, kissing your temple as he could feel you beginning to unravel on his fingers. "Is this what you wanted?"

You whimpered, biting your lip as you nodded your head. "Yes!"

As his fingers moved quickly inside of you, you felt his free hand wrap around your torso before moving up to your chest, his fingers ghosting over your hardened nipple.

"Please, Art," you whimpered, so close to your high. He took your words as a sign to keep going and allowed his fingers to fondle your breast, which sent you over the edge.

"Fuck, I'm-" you whined, your words caught dead in your throat as your orgasm washed over you, a defeated moan sounding from your chest.

He was mesmerized as he watched you, the way your head kicked back against his chest and you gripped his thigh as you came down from your climax. The pure ecstasy was seeping from you, and it drove him wild that he brought you to this state.

Carefully, he removed his fingers from your soaked core, bringing them to his mouth before sucking them clean. Your head snapped around to watch him, going feral at the way he reveled at the taste of you. You couldn't tear your eyes away from him.

Your hands cupped the sides of his head, your fingers running through his blonde locks of hair. His eyes fell on your wet, plump lips before he smashed his own against them without warning.

A whine of approval sounded from the back of your throat, your body quickly crawling into his lap, straddling him as you sunk deeper into the kiss. His hands ran up the sides of your thighs before settling on the flesh of your ass, squeezing it as he held your core down against his hard-on.

His lips finally pulled away from yours, both of you out of breath as you met each other's gaze once again. He was quick to attack your neck, leaving sloppy and wet kisses all over your skin as he rocked your hips over his erection for any sort of release he could get.

Your fingers tugged at the hair at the nape of his neck, earning a low groan to sound from his chest, which went straight to your core. You were growing impatient, pulling away from him in order to tug your tank top over your head. His eyes fell to your bare chest, a look of pure lust haunting them.

You quickly stood up from his lap to remove your shorts along with your underwear, giving him the opportunity to rid himself of his clothes as well. Your eyes nearly bugged out of your head as his hard-on slapped against his lower stomach once he pulled his boxers off, his tip reddened and already leaking with precum.

"Come here, baby," he said soothingly, his hands pulling you back into his lap once more, your bare chest flush with his. Your faces were inches apart, your lips parted as you watched him reach between your bodies and grasp his cock, slowly giving it a few pumps before he aligned himself with your core.

You raised your hips a little, hovering over him to allow him to guide himself into you, a deep moan ripping from your chest when you finally sank down on him.

"Fuck," he groaned, the feeling of your wet core overriding his senses. You stretched around him so sweetly, taking him so well he couldn't help but moan.

Your hands settled comfortably on his shoulders, using them to help stabilize yourself as you began to rock your hips into a steady motion. You couldn't help but bite your lip, unable to keep your moans from falling out of your mouth.

He filled you to the brim, reaching a part of you deep inside that had never fully been satisfied. It made you ecstatic; you couldn't get enough of him.

"Fuck me, Art," you moaned, pulling at the hair at the nape of his neck. "Fuck me hard."

He let out a shaky breath at your bluntness but obeyed you nonetheless. His hands gripped your hips roughly before he began a steady pace of fucking up into you, making you reel your head back in pleasure.

"Look at you, taking me so well," he moaned in between whimpers of pleasure, gripping your hips harder as he quickened his thrusts. You were a blubbering mess at this point, your head falling to the crook of his shoulder to muffle your cries.

His arm wrapped around your torso to keep you steady, his free hand moving to rake through your hair and pull your head back up to meet his gaze. He watched you intently as tears formed in your eyes, your orgasm not too far away.

"So pretty," he cooed, cupping your face. "All for me, right?"

"I'm yours, Art," you whimpered, clawing at his bicep as you felt yourself tipping over the edge. "All yours. Fuck, I'm close!"

Your moans were like music to his ears, sounding so melodic as your eyes fluttered shut in lust. With a few quick final thrusts, your second orgasm washed over you, making you writhe with pleasure as a nearly pornographic moan ripped from your chest.

He gripped your hips as he stilled his movements, his eyes intently watching you as your face contorted with your climax. He nearly came at the sight, letting out a shaky moan as you slumped back against him, completely fucked out.

"Fuck," you breathed, looking up at him as he panted heavily, a lazy smile on his face.

Suddenly, you remembered he hadn't come yet, and your body was already sliding off of him and sinking to your knees between his legs before you could even think otherwise.

"Wait, no you don't have to-" he assured you as he sat up, but you were already shushing him and taking him into your hand, gently pumping him as you gripped his thigh for leverage.

His eyes were blown out with lust as he watched you jerk him off, relaxing into your touch as a whimper escaped his throat. You looked so sexy sitting in between his legs, so eager to help him reach his climax. It didn't take long before he was letting out a guttural groan and painting your chest with his release.

His chest heaved up and down as he pulled himself back together, taking in your appearance before him. He never wanted to forget you like this; your face flushed and dewey with sweat from the orgasm he had just given you.

"Sorry, baby," he breathed, sitting up to grab your tank top and wipe you clean with it. You sent him a small smile, thankful for the gesture before you got back on the couch next to him and curled into his side. He grabbed the blanket that was hanging over the back of the couch and laid it over the two of you, trying to make you as comfortable as possible.

The sudden realization that you had just fucked your tennis coach began to seep into your brain as you felt the warmth of his skin on yours, goosebumps running down your spine at the thought.

Fuck, this was going to make for an interesting practice tomorrow. . .

[misaerabl]

SHE GETS THE JOB DONE

"Take it like a taker, Cause baby I'm a giver"

Farmer!Ellie X F!Reader (from this prompt)

SUMMARY: after a breakup, you find yourself sulking at a town gathering, trying to dodge the relentless pity of those around you. ellie approaches with a teasing grin that cuts through your gloom. what starts with lighthearted teasing unfolds into an intimate encounter that leaves you realizing ellie makes you feel in ways no man ever has. (Inspired by The Giver by Chappell Roan) WARNINGS/Contains Adult Language: smut with some plot, smoking weed, fucking outside, bottom r, stone top e, e calling r princess, baby, eating out (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), also idk how to write in a southern accent so pls just imagine lol A/N: soooo, this is my first smut on this account. I've been working on this for 2 days and I'm publishing this while on the way to a resort lol. I hope you enjoy it, please inform me if I miss any warnings! ALSO THIS ISN'T PROOFREAD

Minors and Men DNI / word count : 2.4k words

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You sit alone at the table, the one you’d helped your parents set up earlier, surrounded by the dull hum of voices and clinking glasses. Everyone at the gathering knows about the breakup, and one by one, they stop by to offer their condolences, each making the sting more unbearable.

An older woman pauses beside you, clutching her chest with dramatic flair as if she could feel every ounce of your pain. You force a tight smile, but it's clear she’s milking the moment for all it's worth.

A beer bottle, half-empty, rolls toward your feet, breaking the uncomfortable tension. You nudge it away with a light kick, and it rolls until it stops at someone’s scuffed Converse. You’d recognize those shoes anywhere. You look up and meet the familiar eyes of Ellie Williams, who lives a few farms over with her parents. She’s leaning against a post, the same mischievous grin on her face that she had when you first met at Joel Miller’s farm during a community gathering your parents had dragged you to. Even then, she stood apart, a little defiant, too cool for small talk.

She raises an eyebrow, smirking. “So, third time aint the charm, huh? Don’t worry—maybe you’re just warming up for the main event.” She winks, the teasing tone in her voice pulling a real smile from you for the first time that night.

You roll your eyes, smirking back. “What? are you going to suggest I date your brother next? Cause he’s such a ‘nice guy’,” you say, making air quotes.

Ellie laughs, the sound rough and genuine. “Oh, hell no,” she says, shaking her head. “I was thinking more along the lines of gettin out of this circus. What d'ya say?”

The thought of escaping, even for just a little while, tugs at you. You nod, your smile growing.

She holds out her hand. “Come on, before someone else comes over to tell you how ‘brave’ you are.”

You hesitate for a moment, then take her hand. She leads you around the back of the house, past the clinking bottles and the laughter, until you reach the quiet of the horse stables. The night air is crisp, and it smells faintly of hay and earth. You both settle down on the cool ground, a silence stretching between you that feels oddly comforting.

Ellie pulls something from her pocket—a slim joint. She catches your raised eyebrow and grins. “What? You didn’t think I’d come empty-handed, did you? Best remedy for a breakup.”

You snort, half in amusement and half in disbelief. “Is that… weed?”

“Only the best,” she says, smirking as she lights it. She takes a slow drag before holding it out to you, eyes twinkling with challenge.

You glance at the joint, then back at her. “Don’t tell me you’ve never smoked before,” she teases, nudging it toward you.

You haven’t, but tonight feels like a night for firsts. You take it, trying to act casual, and inhale—too deeply, it turns out. You’re soon doubled over, coughing hard enough to make your eyes water.

Ellie bursts into laughter, a sound so infectious you can’t help but join in between coughs. “Okay, not quite like that,” she says, patting your back. “But hey, first time for everything, right?”

“Clearly,” you wheeze, handing it back and shaking your head as you catch your breath.

The laughter fades into a comfortable silence. Ellie flicks the joint away, watching it fizzle out on the ground. The distant stars seem brighter out here, and you find yourself staring at them until she speaks.

“You’re pretty, y’ know that?” Ellie’s voice is softer now, her gaze meeting yours. “He was an asshole, anyway.”

A short laugh escapes you, rough but sincere. “Yeah, I’m not even sad ‘bout him. I don’t know why everyone thinks I am. I hated the guy and didn’t try to hide it. Fuck he was so bad in bed like the rest of ‘em.”

She nods knowingly, a smirk tugging at her lips. “People love a good breakup story. Makes them feel included in the drama.”

You roll your eyes, the last bit of tension slipping away. “Too bad I’m not giving them the heartbreak they want.”

Ellie nudges your shoulder, the touch light but grounding. “But I do meant it,” she says, a serious edge to her tone. “You’re pretty.”

You meet her eyes, and something shifts in the quiet between you. The world around you fades out, leaving just the two of you under the stars. Without thinking, you lean in, your hand lifting to cup her cheek.

The kiss starts slow, tentative, but the moment your lips touch, a rush of warmth spreads through you, making everything else feel distant. When you pull back, the air feels charged, like you’ve stepped into something unfamiliar but right.

Ellie’s eyes widen slightly, then curve with a grin. “You like me that much already, princess?” Her voice is teasing, but there’s a softness to it, a vulnerability that wasn’t there before.

A blush warms your cheeks, and you look away with a laugh. “Maybe I do,” you admit, the words surprising you.

Ellie tilts her head, her grin shifting into something deeper, more genuine. “You know how long I’ve been wantin to make a move on you?” she whispers, her voice low, a secret just for the two of you. 

Before you can respond, she leans in, closing the distance in a heartbeat. The kiss this time isn’t hesitant or testing—it’s sure, carrying the weight of all those moments neither of you spoke of. Her hand finds the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair as the world around you blurs out of focus.

There’s a rush, a quickening of everything—your heartbeat, your breath, the feeling of her lips moving against yours with a gentle urgency. It’s like all the time she’d spent holding back is now pouring into this one moment, and you match her, letting yourself fall into it.

“Fuck I can’t take it anymore princess…” Ellie pushes herself back before straddling you on the ground. She lifts your shirt and kisses your collarbone, you couldn't help but let out a soft moan.

You take off your shirt and toss it aside. Seeing the stupid smile Ellie had on her face when you did made your stomach whirl. She reaches behind and unhooks your bra, fully exposing yourself to her. 

You start to unbutton her shirt, she was wearing a wife beater underneath it which made you frown. 

She notices it and chuckles a bit to herself. She starts to kiss you slowly, getting lower and lower until she reaches your stomach. 

You stare at her as she starts to undo your jeans, growing more impatient, and hungrier for her touch. 

There's no describing what you're feeling right now. Being so responsive to her touch, letting out moans and groans... 

Once she had removed everything you were wearing leaving nothing but your panties, she positioned herself between your legs, staring up at you and then back to the wetness you had underneath. 

"Fuck princess," She glides her fingers over your soaking underwear, making sure to admire your body "So wet f'me already?"  

You moaned and reached for her hand which was still caressing your breasts. “Mhm… Shit” Your response made her smile. She slowly started to remove your panties, two of her fingers sliding into your wet folds. 

Her touch is gentle yet firm, as she slowly slides two fingers inside you, feeling the warmth and wetness that's been building up. She looks up at you, maintaining eye contact as she starts to move her hand, her fingers curling upward to hit that spot that makes your breath hitch.

She continues to watch you intently, her touch unyielding as she works her fingers in and out of you. "You like that, princess?" She asks, voice low. "Tell me how much you want me.”

"I want you so bad..."

Ellie's fingers continue their relentless pace, curling and stroking inside you. Her other hand comes up to cup your breast, thumb circling your nipple. She leans in, hot breath ghosting over your ear as she whispers, “That's it, baby, let me hear those pretty moans.”

With no warning, she flips you over onto your stomach with a strong hand on your hip. She straddles your thighs from behind, pressing her clothed body against your bare back. Her fingers never leave your slick heat as she continues to thrust and stroke, now reaching even deeper.

You feel completely overwhelmed as Ellie's fingers continue to pump in and out of you, hitting that sweet spot inside that makes your whole body tremble. Your chest is pressed against the ground, your face buried in your arms as you try to stifle your screams.

“Fuck Ellie!” Your scream muffled, barely being able to talk. 

She chuckles darkly, the sound vibrating against your skin. "Grip the dirt, princess. Let it feel your desperation." Her fingers never stop moving, now scissoring inside you, stretching you in the most delicious way. "What's the matter, can't you take it?"

Her voice turns rougher, laced with a possessiveness that sends shivers down your spine. "No man has ever touched you like this, have they? They couldn't, because this…” She pauses to curl her fingers inside you, chuckling against your ear at your broken cry.

She continues her relentless assault, fingers pumping faster as her palm grinds against your clit. "This is what you needed all along. To be taken, claimed, owned by someone who knows exactly how to make your body sing." Her teeth graze your shoulder. "Say it.”

"Tell me, has a man ever made you feel this good? Made you this desperate? Made you this... needy?" Her fingers curve upwards, hitting that sweet spot inside you that makes you arch your back and let out a cry to the night sky.

“NO! FUCK NO!” You whimper. 

"And don't you forget it," She says, her voice low and dominating. 

You know that you wouldn't. Right in this very moment, you feel like you're seeing stars. You know that every time you touch yourself remembering this night, you'll be screaming her name.

She grins, her hand working faster "I love seeing you like this princess…" She leans in, her voice dropping to a whisper

"So responsive, so vulnerable. And all mine to play with." Her breath is hot on your neck, her voice laced with power and satisfaction. "You're going to come for me now, aren't you? With my fingers inside you, and my voice in your ear, saying you're mine.”

“Ellie- I want to see your face… Please?” 

She pauses for a moment, considering your request before nodding. "Good girl." She slowly removes her fingers from your trembling body, leaving you empty and aching for a moment before she flips you over onto your back. "Look at me, princess.”

You lock eyes with her as she brings her shiny, wet fingers to her mouth and sucks them clean. A smirk plays on her lips as she leans down between your spread thighs, her hands gripping your hips tightly. "Wrap your legs around my neck, baby.”

You do as she says, You wrap your legs tightly around her neck, holding on as she buries her face between your thighs. Her tongue dives inside you, lapping at your sensitive walls with ruthless enthusiasm. She sucks on your clit, her fingers digging into your hips as she eats you out with wild abandon.

As if reading your mind, she slides two fingers inside you once more, pumping them in rhythm with her thrusting tongue. Her mouth is merciless, her tongue flicking against you as her fingers stretch you wide. "Look at me,”

You're forced to keep eye contact with her as she devours you, her gaze burning with intensity. "I want to see the look on your face when you come. I want to see the moment you break." Her fingers curl inside you, rubbing against that spot that makes your vision blur.

Your breath hitches, and you dig into her back as your hips buck against her mouth. She growls against your flesh, the vibrations sending you hurtling towards the edge. "Ellie... please..." Your words trail off into a moan as she feels you clamp down around her fingers.

Her expression darkens, eyes locked onto yours as she redoubles her efforts. Her tongue swirls around your throbbing nub while her fingers pump in and out of you, the dual sensation becoming too much to bear. "Come for me, princess,”

Your back arches off the ground, legs shaking violently as you find your release. You scream her name, eyes wide and unblinking as you come undone. Wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you, drowning out everything else. You hope the loud music inside was able to drown out your desperate screams.

As you shake and tremble, Ellie finally releases your hip, using her free hand to spread your pussy open wide. She looks at you with a hungry gaze, admiring the way your juices drip out of you. "Fuck, look at you," 

With a gentle kiss to your inner thigh, she lifts her head and crawls up your body to wrap you in her arms. She strokes your hair and rubs your back soothingly as you catch your breath. "Shh, you're okay, princess. I've got you.”

You nuzzle against her chest, the beating of her heart a soothing rhythm that calms your racing thoughts. The way she holds you now, tender and gentle, is a stark contrast to the intense passion from moments before. You feel cherished, protected.

You let out a content sigh, nestling closer. "I feel... satisfied. Really satisfied." You look up at her, tracing her jawline with your fingertips. "And you were right” 

Her eyes sparkle with a mix of amusement and affection, her voice low and husky. "I told you, princess. I know exactly what y’ need." She presses a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose. "And I'm glad I could be the one to give it to you.”

She continues to hold you, the warmth of her body and the security of her embrace making you feel safe and loved in a way you never have before. "You're mine now, princess. Mine to protect, mine to care for, and mine to love.”

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do not republish any of my works! all rights reserved to me I guess

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

To Be Alive In Summer

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Betrayal had never been in your cards, and you definitely didn't see yourself being the one responsible for the act. When having to go undercover, first comes the problem of staging your death.

WORDCOUNT: 8.3k

WARNINGS: Angst, betrayal, intense gore, violence, death, allusions to intimacy, weapons, vulgar language, recovery, torture, happy ending, etc.

A/N: The final request is finished, hope you enjoy it @l-inkage! Onto the AUs next.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You didn’t want to do it, but in this job, comfort was always an option and never a guarantee. It needed to be done. And that meant sacrifices had to be made to the dark altar of your contract with One-Four-One.

But this one just might break you in the process. 

“Are you sure that,” you pause and think over the instructions that Price had just given you—straight from the top of the line. “Are you sure that this is the best way, Sir?” 

The man’s lips are flat, eyes narrowed, he doesn’t like this either—especially if you don’t. John’s a Captain, he tallies out orders and expects people to listen without hesitation; doesn’t express his worry about their safety because that isn’t what this is about at the end of the day. It’s about keeping the good people outside of bases like these alive and breathing.

And right now that hinged on you being dead.

“Berto needs mercenaries,” Price grunts, “and any record of you needs to be wiped before we send you in.”

Vito Berto—head of a crime family that had been picking up traction in recent years, so much so that One-Four-One had to be put on it for covert reconnaissance before any more people ended up dead.

You would be sent in under the cover of an experienced mercenary; one among the ranks that Berto would need for a hostile takeover planned in three months on the Palace of Westminster in London. The House of Parliament. 

Vito was one cocky son of a bitch if he expected no one to get word of this.

Your job was to uncover the exact date, time, and the mission plan before getting out as quickly as possible. In order to do that, the soldier holding your name needed to be dead so nothing could be traced back to you, your task force, or your loved ones. 

And people needed to believe it.

“Can’t the records just be forged, Sir?” You ask, the meeting room dark and pulsing with the cold air from the vents. “What about Gaz and Soap?” Your throat closes for a moment and you speak slightly lower. “Simon?”

Price sighs and crosses his arms, fixing the stance of his feet.

“They’ll deal with it.” Inside of your pockets, your hands twitch. 

He won't. Not inwardly.  

“I…” your jaw clenched. 

Your relationship with Ghost was…strange. You’d both had your fun, of course, and you had a casual air about that sort of thing—it had happened, but nothing more could ever come of it. There was a modicum of soft care with you two; an acknowledgment of partnership in the field and out of it. 

You didn’t have to explain to people that Ghost was closer to you than others. You’d seen his face; that says enough. 

“It needs to look real,” Price explains, tilting his head down to you. “Not only for Laswell's state of mind but yours. I won’t be putting you in without giving you the best chance.” 

“You can’t tell them?”

“Negative. Security measure.” You frown, biting at your lip.

John closes his eyes and shakes his head. A second later a hand is set on your shoulder and the man leans in slightly to reassure you like a relative. You look up into your Captain’s gruff face, seeing the small amount of care he levels into his cerulean irises for you. 

He squeezes your flesh, watching hard.

“We need you for this, Trick.” The nickname was exactly why you were the only one who could do this. 

You were the first choice. No one was better at undercover work.

“How long would I be gone, Price?” Shifting out of the hold, you cross your arms and level him with a dead stare. “How long do they have to live with this lie?”

John grunts. “Less than three months, yeah? But all of it’s up to how long it takes to gather intel. Full black.” 

“Exfil point?” 

“Town five miles from Berto’s estate. Cafe with a red door near the bookstore. Woman inside’ll be your handler.” You turn away to glare at the far wall, hesitant even when you know you shouldn't be. This was your job. 

Brown eyes keep flashing behind your eyes—a skeletal mask that stares with stained glistening blood, blood you yourself feel reflected on your own visage. A shared damning of two people who would never see those great halls of the afterlife. Neither of you are good.

Simon had to understand. 

The Captain sees the shift in your expression.

“You in?” He asks you with a blank look. 

You take a deep breath, chest heavy and heart hurting. “I don’t like it,” your voice is low, monotone. “But, yeah, Sir, I’m in.”

“Good,” the man nods, hooking his thumbs into his belt. “It’ll happen in three days. Be ready.”

You watch him walk out of the room, patting you on the shoulder one last time before the door shuts behind him with a click of finality that pierces your lungs. You clear your throat and swallow down saliva, turning your face away as if ashamed. 

It’s the quiet that gets to you in that moment—the encompassing nothingness. So often you would have moments like these with Simon. Just sitting; not taking. But this silence was so different. 

This was betrayal. 

After you steady the slight tremor in your hands, you scoff and shake your head backing up a step before leaving the room; turning off the lights. 

You walk down the long hallway, feet heavy as your mind runs, and overhead the lights buzz like flies. Eyes stuck to the floor, your shoulders are hunched in with thought and your lids half-closed in a display of obvious inner turmoil. 

The shadow that waits for you, leaning against the wall, you walk past entirely—missing it and not hearing the confused call of your name behind you because of it.

“Trick!” Your hand comes up to itch at your chin, fingers pushing into your flesh. The aggressive Manchester accent slides off of you until large fingers curl into the back collar of your vest rig. 

You breathe in sharply, blinking in surprise as your feet get pulled back a step or two, pace halting as Ghost curls around your body, staring down at you. His brows are narrowed, that mask still on and the bottom fabric twisted in the obvious downward press of his lips.

“Bloody hell is wrong with you, then?” 

Sighing, you scowl and shake him off of you, moving back to allow yourself some air. Did he really have to show up now? Why was he even here, you had to ask yourself. Was he…waiting for you?

“Nothing,” you don’t look at him, speaking low. “Distracted, is all.” 

Ghost crosses his arms slowly, his brows flinching briefly as he makes a sound in the back of his throat. “Meeting go well?” 

“Fine.” He can tell something’s wrong; you know he can—he’s the best at interrogations for a reason. Ghost knows when someone is lying to him. 

You glance at his chest before you begin to open your mouth. 

What could telling him hurt? Just a hint. He’d get it—I know he would. Berto had the nickname ‘The Tanner,’ given to him by his men. When he found out anyone had double-crossed him, he’d take a large breaking knife and separate the thin layers of skin from his victims. Intel suggests he keeps them awake for all of it, stopping when they pass out only to start again when they wake back up. 

If there was any leak in this base…any at all…you wouldn’t be coming back. 

You wouldn’t be coming back to him. 

Simon’s thighs shift.

“Talk to me.” He always speaks like he doesn’t care about the answer, but you’d be a fool this far into your… relationship? To believe that he didn’t. You’d seen Simon panic over your injured body before—it told you enough. 

The easy moments and the side-eyed looks when he thought you didn’t notice or weren’t doing the same to him. 

Your fingers twitch, forcing a smirk that didn’t convince even you. Your heart was telling you to explain it to him, but your brain was firmly set behind iron doors; tongue held back by iron tongs. 

“Personal matters, Simon. Nothing you need to worry about, Big Guy.” He doesn’t look away from your eyes. Brows set in a line and that mask jeering at you; almost mocking. 

The Lieutenant doesn’t answer and your heart is visible from under your gear.

“J-just,” you stutter, face getting hot as you look away. “It’s not that I don’t want to tell you, it’s…” 

Trailing off, you rub at the back of your head in a self-soothing motion. 

Simon blinks slowly and you hear a large chest-rattling sigh. He shrugs in that way only he can—a fast jerk of shoulders that looks more like he’s trying to push off a bug than simply trying to move past what you’re saying to him. 

“Doesn’t make a difference,” it does. “Garrick and MacTavish are waitin’ down at the firing range. Best get down there ‘fore one comes looking like a kicked dog.” You can still feel him digging into you. Knives and the suspicion in his tone. 

You don’t want to do this to him. Not after all that you’ve gone through together. 

“Right.” Your feet are moving before he is, planted into the floor and pushing off through the small pinches of electricity in the nerves. Pushing out a hard laugh, you try to send him a light smile. “Did you tell them to be ready to get their arses beat?” 

Simon looks down at you as he walks beside your form in large steps; arms swinging. “Haven’t seen ‘em yet. Waiting for you.” 

If it were possible to shrivel up from guilt, you’d be nothing but bones.

“O-oh,” you huff, but it sounds like all of the air has been expelled from your lungs. “You didn’t have to do that, y’know.”

Simon grunts, accent grating as he stares ahead. “Wanted to.” 

“Good. That’s nice.” You feel like screaming. “Thank you.”

It’s nearly instantaneous how fast his eyes go dark with concern. “You sure that head of yours is on straight, Trick?”

You push open the doors outside and wonder if you even have the ability to answer him; out of everyone, you can’t lie to Simon.

“No,” your lips admit quietly, self-degrading in its own right. 

A hand grabs you by the wrist and before you can slip out, you’re being pulled back into the building and pushed into a side room. 

“Hey!” You shout, eyes flashing as the door is shut behind you. You’re released and the light is immediately turned on. “Simon, what the hell are you doing?” 

“Enough,” he levels, and your arms are clasped so you’re facing his chest, looking up into his serious and hard gaze. “Fuckin’ speak to me.” 

You’re surprised at how insistent he is about this. 

“I’m not telling you anything,” you speak through stutters and he growls in his throat. His hands are like motel lava even under his gloves and above your skin—burning like a brand.

“What happened in that meeting room, Trick?”

“It’s classified,” you say, harder than intended, spitting the words with a hint of desperation. If not for your own safety, then for his, but you know that if he keeps asking then you’ll tell him the truth. 

They were going to stage your death, and they won’t be making it pretty. 

“Fuck classified,” he leans in closer, curling over you. “You’re acting like someone’s bloody taking you hostage.”

“Simon! It’s not—”

“Cut the bullshit!” You growl and try to shove away from him, struggling with glaring eyes that go sharp with the onset of tears. “Somethings got you worried and I wanna know what it is.”

Simon wasn’t the greatest at articulation, but neither were you. 

You knew he was trying to tell you he was concerned. The man was holding you tight, but not hurting you; his face close and his shoulders wide. Along your face his eyes were darting, as if he could peel back your skin and make you explain what Price had told you. 

The Captain had given the Lieutenant a look as he’d seen him waiting for you but had said nothing. That alone had tipped Ghost off to something being wrong. 

But you weren’t having it.

Yanking out of Simon’s hands, you shake your head and put on your worst glare—meeting muddy brown and huffing. 

“Mind your own business, Riley. It’s for your own good.” The man blinks in mute shock, fingers in the air twitching before they fall to his sides.

You speed-walk out of the room before he can speak, lips slightly parted at your strange behavior. 

For his own good? What in the hell did that mean? 

Simon’s jaw clenches, a grunt in his chest as he aggressively rolls his wrist. He turns to follow after. The both of you don’t talk for the rest of the day.

—

Your body shakes along with the helo as it takes off, carrying you away from the scene of gunfire down below. In your earpiece, you hear the loud calls and yelling from your friends. Gaz is calling out to Price to give him permission to move up; the Captain too busy grappling Soap to the ground. 

Ghost is taking cover behind a wall, but he’s not quiet. 

“Trick’s in the damn building!” 

No, I’m not, you want to flick on the line and tell him. Over the three days before this operation you'd barely spoken—in fact, you’d been avoiding all of them fervently by the mass amount of guilt in your stomach. 

In the nights, you hadn’t even slept, and now you’re sure it’ll take even longer too.

Their forms become tinier, and you grasp the roof’s handle as the helo rises farther and farther. 

“Price!” Simon barks. “We have to get her—”

“There’s no time!” John responds, grunting and forcing Johnny down as he spits curses and tries to call your name over the comms. You flinch violently, looking away for a moment. “We’re surrounded!”

“I can get through!” Bullets wiz through the comms, and you can nearly imagine you are down there—trapped in the house down the way after being shot and injured by hosties. But you’d never been in that house. Never been alone down the way for recon. 

You’d been at the second exfil point. Price knew it. Laswell knew it. 

But Simon had not. 

“Negative, Ghost! Keep where you are, we can get to her later. We need to—” The building you were supposed to be in explodes in a fiery wreck; a great bloom cloud going into the air as the helo shakes from the after-blast. 

You have to turn your face away, shielding your eyes. The pilot calls to see if you’re alright, but you don’t answer. All you can hear is the screams.

“Trick!”

“Simon, get back into bloody cover!” 

“Fucking Hell! Trick, answer me!” It gets too much—the bareness of his panic for you. The panting breath; the running stomp of feet.

You rip the connection from the radio on your vest and place a hand over your mouth, breathing as if you had really been in an inferno like a piece of fodder. 

Simon had already been through so much in his life, and doing this to him as well as the task force was the definition of betrayal of the loyalty you’d cultivated.

Of the love.

Because you did love him—even if you’d never say it to each other. If he found out about what you did, which he would eventually, in one way or another, he’d hate you for the rest of his life. So perhaps you were mourning, as you stare below as the helicopter takes you higher and higher up. Farther away from him. You were mourning what you had, because you knew it would never be the same. 

Simon Riley would never trust you again, and all you had to blame was yourself. 

The tiny tears dribble out of you and fall all the way down to the ground, where the man still screams for you to answer him; John barks orders with a sheen of panic in his eyes from the bare-bones ferality of the Lieutenant. Brown eyes blazed and cities burned in his pupils. 

John had underestimated the bond that the two of you shared. 

And he just might pay the price for it.

—

Getting through selection was far easier than getting through SAS training, Vito Berto seemed to only want mercenaries that had the faintest hint of the ability to hold a smuggled weapon. It made sense because if the people he was planning to send in were well-trained, it would be easier to trace to him—ability equaled a higher level of intelligence. Planning. Resources. 

To fit in, you made sure to miss a few of your shots, even if it made your instinctual perfectionism rise. John would have torn you a new one if you’d missed this many during your selection all those years back. Probably would have asked how a Muppet like you had gotten this far with shite aim like that.

But Berto ate it up like Sunday dinner. Gave you the nickname Cross, actually. Like the crosshair of a scope.

It was safe to say you despised him. 

But the days grew longer and the nights short with all of your running around. You’d found out that your Captain’s timeline was incorrect—the attack wasn’t in three months, it was in two. And while Berto was cocky, he wasn’t reckless. 

He somehow knew there was a breach in the ranks; you could see it by how he looked over the squads in the underground bunker, all of you hidden under rock and stone like prisoners. The man would sneer, eyes filtering back and forth from the perch. 

Sometimes you had to stop yourself from simply taking the shot presented in front of you and deal with the consequences afterward.

Price had been clear: all of the people gathered here needed to be taken care of quickly and quietly—if you snapped, the rest would disappear like roaches. Alive and biding time.

During those two months, the thoughts of Simon wouldn’t leave you. 

Moments that seeped in behind closed eyelids after you’d slunk back into bed, the USBs full of vital intel stashed into the lining of your uniform in a small hidden pocket. His twitching smile and those deep scars along his face; the ones that would never go away. 

In those moments you wondered what it would be like if you had told him how much you cared for his quiet company or his dark humor. The way he would level a hand on the small of your back off duty at the bars as a way to silently shield you from the stares from patrons. 

You’d never be able to tell him now. 

Vito “The Tanner” Berto knew of a leak, and when you came back to the bunker after sending out the multiple USB sticks, the physical files, and the first-hand accounts of what was going on—eager for just a little more to make this betrayal worth it…he was waiting. 

You could only fight off so many others, no matter how subpar the training on their part, before sheer mass overtook ability. Like a house of cards with a bowling ball, you were shoved to the ground surrounded by multiple dead bodies of those you’d taken down with you—writhing and hissing as if a feral animal. 

Restraints were leveled with your wrists; your head pulled back so your nose faced the ceiling. You only stopped struggling when the chilled barrel of a pistol was set under your chin.

Breath stilling, it was hard to understand how, even then, all that was in the front of your mind was Simon. Simon and his brown eyes. Simon and his screams when that building went up in fire and smoke.

“Trick!”

You could still hear the exact pitch and rhythm like it was yesterday.

“Cross,” Berto mutters, gun heavy as it digs into your flesh. Men pant and grapple to keep you back as you sneer and jerk your arms. “I should have known it would be you.” 

“Well,” you growl, teeth bared, “obviously you didn’t.”

A slow smirk runs on his lips. 

“No, but I’ll have to rectify this. I can’t have you getting in the way.” You can only hope that the intel gets out before the end of the second month—if not, then all of this was for nothing. 

Why couldn’t you have left when you had the chance?

“Fucking Hell! Trick, answer me!”

He was why. 

Simon—the source of all of your problems and the only person who could fix them besides yourself. It’s a sick joke really. 

Vito grabs your chin and you huff out a swift breath, heart skipping beats as he burrows his digits tightly into your skin; hard enough to leave marks. He sighs and clicks his tongue and you have to keep back a whimper as his nails create crescents along your jaw. 

“You won’t tell me anything, will you, then?”

“Negative,” you spit, heated. 

He scoffs. “Of course.” 

Berto throws your head back as you try to snap out and bite at his hand, rabid, but the man’s already gone and the mercenaries behind you yank you back like a dog on a leash. Your knees slide along the floor and you rage trying to turn around before the others are forced to shove your face into the ground. There is a distinctive snapping in your nose bridge as the concrete comes up to meet you; the tears come instinctually after—unable to be stopped as you yell in pain. 

Blood floods your nostrils and mouth, making you cough as Vito’s voice echoes in your ringing ears. 

“Let me get my knives.” 

—

They had you chained in some damp back room, the corners riddled with mold spores and the air heavy with condensation. You were tied to the ceiling—feet dangling uselessly below you and the tips of your boots dragging across the floor with a quiet scrape and a creak of metal. 

Above you, on the hook, the chains were tied so ruthlessly that you’d lost circulation to your arms entirely, nothing but an electric buzzing far inside of your bones. Akin to the static of a TV screen in between connections. Your clothes had been shredded by blades—long sections of your flesh underneath, cut away. 

Blood stains most, if not all, of the floor. It drips from your nose; it falls like rain to pool at your feet in rippling crimson. 

Simon had been your partner during required interrogation training and he was far better at it than you. The man could go for hours through the mental strain that was leveled out by other soldiers on him; stoic and silent. It was the way his eyes would blank that told you he could live through far worse—that he already had. You’d had your fair share as well, but never before had you felt as hopeless as this. 

There was a slim chance that anyone would come for you here. Laswell and Price would carry the guilt of it, but you didn’t want them to. 

The blood slips over your lips, and the taste of copper makes you gag; spitting out saliva from your lips. 

It was half your choice, after all. 

You try to slip into a happy memory as the lights fade in and out, the footsteps and mutterings outside the door of little interest anymore.

ironic, that the man with the mask of a dead person brought you comfort when so little could. 

You never got to tell him how much you loved him. A thin smile comes across your lips. 

“Shouldn’t be out here this late,” the man utters as you lay out in the field, arms and legs splayed and twitching when the long grass brushes against them. “Past curfew.”

“Like you aren't out here with me?” You raise an eyebrow, looking up at the stars now that the large base lights have been dimmed. The air is cold, and the breeze makes you shudder through a chill. But you don’t wipe that smile from your lips. “Bit hypocritical, Simon.”

You hear a low grunt. 

“Out ‘ere because you weren’t answering your damn door.” A shadow slips to your side, and the man settles down with a huff on his lips. Simon retired his combat mask for a simple balaclava instead, and he sighed long as he settled his arm on the bent form of his right leg. 

You blink over at him, raising a brow. 

“Looking for me, Ghosty?” 

“Bloody hell, Trick.” You chuckle, shifting your arms to rest on your chest as you look back at the stars far above. 

“Oh, it’s alright, Big Guy.” The man shakes his head. “I won’t tell anyone you’re going soft for me.” 

“I’m not.”

“You definitely are.”

“Trick, I’m tellin’ you to—”

“Shh!” You wave a hand in his direction, silencing him and making him blink at you in deep annoyance and confusion. Ghost’s eyes were narrowed, the black of his face paint gone and smelling like standard issue body wash. 

He must have gotten out of the shower and come to see if you were still awake before making his way outside when you never answered the door. Funny how he knew where you would be.

“Fucking what, then?” He growls, shoulders wide.

You place a finger to your ear, shifting so you’re sitting up on one elbow and facing Simon. On your face, a wide smile lingers, but on his, the dark brows narrow with knowledge of a deceitful event incoming. “Listen.” 

A silence falls, Simon’s ears twitching for something in the long grass or across the field. Nothing. Nothing but the breeze and the way your face glowed as you watched him, eyes glinting with amusement. 

After a long minute or two, he looks at you with utter bewilderment. You lean in closer, poking a finger into his bicep.

“Can you hear it, Simon?” You’re one of the few he lets call him that, though never in public.

He glares. “No.”

You flutter your digits in the air, giggles trapped in your mouth. A whisper hits the Lieutenant’s ears. “Silence.”

“Bugger off,” he hisses as you reel back and belt out laughter, holding your sides and lightly curling into yourself. “You’re worse than Johnny. Jesus.”

“Aww, c’mon!” You let your laughter die down to chuckles, sanctity of night broken, but not so between the two individuals who look at each other with brimming affection none will name. 

“You’re the one that came to find me, remember?” Your tease makes Ghost roll his eyes, looking away across the open area with its wave-like grasses.

“You’re right, then, I did,” Simon grunts, his hand coming up to rub his neck. “Mistake on my part.”

“Jerk,” a soft slap is leveled to his arm and he chuckles deeply. “But you can’t fool me, Ghosty. I know you’ll always come lookin’ for me—I’m too important to you to lose.”

“Keep kiddin’ yourself, Trickster.” He doesn’t say how he would agree with the statement, it was true after all. “I won’t be dragged into your bloody messes.”

He wouldn’t leave you behind to drown in them, even if it was as simple as you sneaking out of your bunk to watch the stars. 

You’d both known each other too long for that.

You smile over at him as he sighs before slipping off his mask, itching at his stubble with hard fingers. The air settles. No comment about it entering in on the see-through waves—there didn’t need to be one. 

“Mhm,” you hum, beaming. “You keep thinking that, Big Guy.”

“Trick!” Your memory shifts, and you sit up immediately. You’d thought you’d just heard…

Eyes dart out over the field, jumping back and forth rapidly. You look to the side, but Simon is gone entirely.

“Simon?” Heart beating, you stand fully up and turn in a fast circle, confusion and fear infecting your mind.

“Trick!” Pain sparks in your body, and you hiss and grab at your clothes. You blink so fast that you half-believe the world is ending.

“S-Simon?!” What was happening? What was hurting so bad? Where did Simon go?

“Trick, fucking wake up!”

Your eyes snap open and you instantaneously feel the burning pain inside of your ribs. 

The ground is underneath you, hard and wet from your own blood as you yowl and cough, air entering your lungs in quick bursts. 

Hands encase your cheeks, shaking your head—keeping you present. 

A skeletal mask littered with droplets of human fluid stares down at you, and behind it, panicked brown eyes slash through your psyche in the small moment between agony and confusion. 

Simon?

“Holy hell.” It’s that same Manchester accent. The same scrape of vocal cords. “Alright, Sweetheart. Keep those eyes open—keep ‘em on me, yeah?” 

What was going on? You try to open your mouth to say something but all of it is lead. Were your ribs broken? How? And why was Simon’s bottom covering pushed up to his nose; his lips stained with blood? 

The man frantically goes to press into his radio.

“This is Bravo 0-7,” he breathes, and you whimper as your throat gets clogged with congealed saliva and blood. You cough violently, gagging, and Ghost quickly turns you on your side to help you expel it. His hand is hard on your shoulder. 

“I say again, this is Bravo 0-7!” Those browns never leave you, shocked and serious. “Price, I’ve got ‘er. It’s not good; had to revive but I don’t know how long she’s got.”

Revive? You’re spacing in and out, limp, and trying to breathe. 

Simon tears open his medical pouch and begins wrapping tourniquets—packing the wounds with gauze until you can get proper medical treatment on the helo back to base. 

“Bloody…” he trails, Price barking an order over the connection to bring you out; the firefight was moving to the East to give him an opening to sneak back out. “C’mon, Trick.”

Everything swims; you want to go back to that field—those stars. 

Simon was here? Truly? The thought was hard to understand in your state. 

“S-Sim—” Your voice gurgles, and you can’t feel your legs. You had to tell him. Tell him the good and the bad; all of it.

“Don’t talk,” he growls, moving you as your body seizes in a state of static shock. “I’m getting you out of ‘ere.” You’re lifted up in one grand movement, Simon grunting as he shifts you carefully into a bridal hold. “Then you’re going to explain this to me when you’re squared. Won’t take no for an answer.” 

You could feel the anger sizzling off of him even half-conscious. The mixing emotions that convulsed into a mess of adrenaline and desperation. Forcing your eyes to stay open, you blink up at him as he glances down at you at the same time, just before he exits the door he had broken down. 

The visible skin of his lips and chin tighten; going down with the twitch of with a serious frown. Something flutters behind his eyes as he stares before glancing away and clearing his throat. 

“Eyes on me, Trickster. Don’t you dare close ‘em.” You grimace as he begins jogging, heavy boots echoing along the empty corridor as the sounds of gunfire and pandemonium sound off from the other side of the bunker. 

It was hard to push back the black at the sides of your vision; already it was seeping back in. Ghost holds you tight, unwilling to even let you slip an inch from his grip as the lights above swirl, brightening and dimming. 

“Oi!” You’re jostled, and you snap back to it, tensing as your wounds flex and pull. Simon glares. “What’d I just say?”

Your weakly poisoned grimace makes his lips twitch up. 

“Good.” 

There’s the sudden flick of a safety being clicked off, and the Lieutenant halts in a jerking of feet and a ruffle of canvas.

“I’ve heard about a Ghost making his rounds, hm?” Berto stands at the end of the hall, pistol held in front of him. “I saw an apparition disappearing to find one of its own. No worries. She’ll be a ghost, too, soon enough. Perhaps I’ll have to put you both to rest together.” 

The voice makes you go panicked, remembering the tear of flesh and the sharp blades slicing your skin away, chunks that peeled, and the long stripes of flexible tendons. Your lungs fight for breath, your head weakly slapping into Simon’s neck after an attempt to move your body. Limbs shake and battle nerves; the fabric of your brain.

Your blood stains the man’s gear all the way down the front. It’s dripping to the floor, down his arms and off his elbows. You’re bathing him in it—a full-body baptism of betrayal. 

“Berto,” Ghost says, accent casual despite the gun leveled at him. The name is drawn out. “Apologies, but I’m taking back what’s mine.” He tilts his head. “Scratch that, I’m not apologizing for getting back on a Bastard like you, eh? Pity I can’t hang you up like a hog, I’m proper good with a blade too, but as you can see, I’m on a crunch.” 

Vito’s face goes confused, skin scrunching. “What—”

The bang of a bullet being discharged echoes down the way. The clatter of a great expulsion of air from lungs. Stumbling. Gargles. 

The slam of a body to the ground. 

Smoke spreads up from under the clutch of your knees, where Ghost holds the abyssal body of an M19 forward, his finger lightly on the trigger before he shifts it back in well-practiced discipline. 

“Slag,” he spits. 

Simon hikes you farther into him, lending over his available body heat as you shiver. He presses his face into the top of your head, sighing in relief before starting his pace again. The man’s lips brush your flesh as your lids flutter. 

“Still with me?” You whine into his neck, fingers twitching. “I know it hurts, Love. I know. Easy with it.” 

It didn’t just hurt, it burned. Buried like the nine layers of Hell. 

He keeps whispering to you, slinking around corners and stepping into shadows. By the time he makes it outside with you, the chill of the air on the bottom of his face he didn’t even bother to re-cover, you’re tapering on the edge of oblivion again. 

Teetering like a porcelain doll on the end of the high shelf. 

“Bravo 0-6, leaving the bunker now, I need that MedEvac prepped and ready to go,” Simon speaks quickly, not wasting a single instant. 

John’s voice wafts through. “Copy, 0-7. Helo is comin’ in, be ready it’s going to get hot!” 

“Affirm. Keep it frosty down ‘ere.” There’s a low chuckle and the swift wizz of bullets. 

“Get our Trickster back in one piece, Ghost.” Simon hears the buzzing of helicopter blades in the night, a slick form descending from the dark clouds not moments later. He turns away from the flurry of air, walking hurriedly backward so the air doesn’t aggravate you. 

“Trick,” Ghost calls to you above the noise, hearing the hurried feet of medics coming out to take you from him. Your face is scrunched and you burrow into him. “I’m handing you over!” 

You try to open your eyes enough to convey your unease at that. You have to tell him. You have to explain why you had to do it. The guilt is eating you; gnawing with red teeth and gripping with devil’s claws. You have to explain that you love him even if he hates you now. 

Medics grapple you away, and you are in pain, lips peeling back to gasp sharply, thrashing. 

No!

“Fuck,” Ghost growls, pulling you away from the men as they ask him what in the bloody hell he’s doing. He doesn’t even know—all he knows is that he’s pissed at you for what you did, but never in a million years did that mean he wanted to see you in pain. 

Simon can’t lie, when he was told you were alive, the universe had held its breath. A miracle. A ruse. But alive. Alive and trapped. 

“Stop it!” He yells, caging you into him. “I’m here! I’m right here, Trickster!” 

You’re already too gone for it, not recognizing the metal of the helo as you’re settled on your back, the loud slam of the door. Fingers pull and prob as you hiss and snap, suffocating. 

Ghost holds down your shoulders, his eyes right above yours—but you’re not looking. The helo takes off

“Bloody hell,” Simon yells. “Look at me!” 

You don’t know what compels you to do so, but your eyes open just the slightest bit wider. Brown melts into your pupils, taking you in and reminding you of chilled summer nights. Simon. You pant but stop struggling. 

The medics jump into action, ripping away the remains of your shirt and pants so they can get to the wounds; assess the damage done. 

“That’s it,” Simon sighs long, swallowing. “That’s a girl. There we go, Sunshine.” 

You blink, face peeled as everything swirls far more aggressively this time. 

“Listen to me, Trick. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere, you understand. You said I’d always find you, yeah?” Hands grab your cheeks. “Well, I fucking did, eh? I found you. We’re gonna fix you up, Sweetheart. It’ll all be gone by morning.” You stutter down a breath, ragged throat stretching.

“Let ‘em fix you up—”

“I love you.” 

It all fades to black, but all you remember is the sweep of horror that spreads behind the man’s eyes.

—

“You went back,” Price’s arms are crossed, and he stares at you as your fingers play with the sheets of the hospital bed. “Why?”

You sigh and rub at your face.

“Trick.”

“I felt like I needed to,” you give away, twitching your fingers out in an expression of nonchalantness. “I felt…” Your voice trailed off into a growl. “Bad.”

“Feelings aren’t a part of this, Trickster, you bloody know that,” John hisses, leaning his head closer as you glare silently. “If you’d left when you could, none of this would have fucking happened.” 

“I feel bad, Price!” You break, snapping. “I fucking know! But I-I thought if I just got a bit more intel, then this would have been worth it.” Taking a deep breath you shake your head and rub at your face, all of the bandages and stitches pulling tight. “It’s eating at me. I can’t…I can’t just act like what I lied about can be forgotten.” 

You shrug as the man listens silently, monitors beeping and the small buzz of the overhead lights. 

“Soap barely looks at me—Gaz gave me that fucking pity smile and it makes me want to scream.”

“They’ll get over it.” The Captain repeats what he said months prior firmly. “They know the Op was top priority, they’ll grow up and be back to fucking around in days.”

You scoff, muttering in a dejected tone. “He won’t.”

John is still, fixing his feet from under him as he rolls his nose and looks away slowly. 

Simon hadn’t come to visit once in the time you’d been here in the ward—four days. That fact alone makes you restless. You don’t remember what you said to him, if you said anything. But you knew that he wasn’t going to be going out of his way to be near you anymore. 

You’d taken a grenade to the relationship you’d built. Toy building blocks are scattered. 

“Simon’s…Simon,” Price ends on. You groan and itch at the IV in your hand. “He cares about you more than anyone, yeah? He just needs time. Wasn’t himself after the set-up.”

“I’ve been told,” Gaz had informed you about the Lieutenant's self-isolation after your ‘death’. The snappy orders—deathly glares. He’d gone back to the ruthless man he was in the field and instead of being directed at his enemies, it was directed at them.

Kyle explained how he’d argued with Price about how he could have gotten to you, before abruptly falling silent and stalking away as if a flip had been switched. Snake eyes and clenched fists. 

They’d heard him in the gym late at night, reaming on the punching bags. They didn’t think he slept more than three hours per day if the red lines in his eyes were anything to go by.

And then they were told that you were alive but captured, and he’d gotten worse.

You’d nearly started sobbing when the Sergeant had told you all of that.

“I betrayed his trust, Price,” you level. “I…I never wanted to do that to him. Ever. Not Simon.”

A shadow passes by the door just as the Captain grunts. “That’s the job.”

“That’s not the job I signed up for when I got into this. We don’t lie to our own.”

“‘We get dirty, the world—’” You cut him off.

“Yeah, yeah, ‘stays clean’.” Your eyes level with his. “I can do the dirty work, John, you know that. Infiltration and undercover work is what I’m good at.” The man nods slightly. “But if you ask me to betray One-Four-One’s trust again, I’m out.”

Blue eyes blink in shock, but you don’t let him speak.

“Find someone else to get fake blown up in a building. I can’t get his fucking screams out of my head.” John watches you silently, eyes narrowed. 

You meet that gaze head-on, not backing down from this.

The Captain shakes his head a minute later. “Bloody made for each other,” he mutters under his breath, grunting. Another shadow slips past going the opposite direction, probably a nurse.

Without another word John turns and exits the room, tossing a hand behind his head casually in a way to say goodbye.

You huff and roll your eyes, heat on your cheeks. 

The day wains, and you let the nurses come in to do their checkups and replace the IV. As the curtains are pulled back into place, supper sits heavy in your stomach. 

You wanted to see Simon. 

You knew it wouldn’t go well, and wouldn’t be the goody-goody outcome you prayed for…but you felt wrong without apologizing in person. It went against your morals, and already those were incredibly skewed. Maybe he’d yell, or even ignore you as if you weren’t there.

Simon wasn’t above not speaking to people he didn’t like.

You had to try.

When all was dark, you shuffled out of the hospital bed and fought the weakness of your legs. Shaking like a leaf, you walked around with only your tied gown, unapologetic of the slit down the back showing flashes of your bra and underwear. 

It wouldn’t be anything the Lieutenant hadn’t seen before.

Walking through the silence, you sigh and stand outside of his door; dread in your heart and seeping from the pulled stitches of your wounds. Your bare feet on the tile make you shiver. 

Lifting up a fist, you hesitate. 

Your hand hovers over the wood, sliding forward before you pull it back to you. Closing your eyes tight, you clench your jaw once and take a deep breath.

Knock-knock-knock. Knock-knock.

The sequence was your call sign. If you knocked like that, he would know it was you—whereas Simon's own was just a single slam of the side of his fist.

The only real problem now was that he wasn’t answering.

You stare dumbly at the barrier, blinking like a fool. It takes you longer than you’d like to admit to understand the realization that he wasn’t ignoring you—he just wasn’t in his room. 

Taking a step back, you rub the back of your neck in exasperation and hurry to the nearest exit.

“Of course,” you breathe. You know exactly where he is at a time like this.

The field holds a standing shadow, a ghost of issued fatigues with a thick jacket against the chill that leaves you shivering. Simon stares out over the training grounds with his hands in his pockets, balaclava pulled all the way down to hide him from you. 

You come to a slow halt behind him and stare. 

It’s not long before the man gunts, turning his head back from over his shoulder to look at you blankly. He knew you were there.

The eye contact stays for a long, long while—until you’re hypnotized in the shades of brown and amber and the large build that seems to broaden because of your appearance.

“I’m here to apologize.” You say it breathlessly. “I’m not asking you to hear me out, but I have to let you know I regret doing it. Price said that it was time-sensitive and I—”

Stopping yourself, you look away. It sounded too much like an excuse, you hissed to yourself. At the end of the day, it was still your acceptance that pushed the pawn forward. 

“I’m sorry, Simon,” you breathe. “I betrayed your trust.”

His eyes are piercing you, but you still can’t look at him. The man slightly turns your way. His voice was monotone and grunting out like a dog.

“You think I couldn’t handle it?” Your heart starts, and you’re shaking your head instantly.

“No.” You explain quickly—honestly. “It’s that…I didn’t want you to.” 

You hear his lips take in a quiet breath. Simon rolls his shoulders before looking away from you. Nothing could have prepared you for what came next.

“You said you loved me.” Your body freezes, jaw going slack as your face drops. You don’t speak, mute as if the air in your lungs has been stolen.

You had done…what?

All of your tricks couldn’t get you out of this one.

“I,” you force a fake laugh, hands beginning to shake. “I, what? No, I’m sure that’s not what I said. A-are you sure it wasn’t, like, an ‘I appreciate you’ or maybe a…a,” your voice catches. “A whole ‘I’m fond of you’ sort of thing…? Hm?”

Simon takes a step forward and you take one back. This was worse than torture, you decided. The pain in your pulling stitches and re-set nose was welcome here.

“Trick,” Ghost utters, and you stare hard at his neck, humming. “Stop talking.”

“Copy,” you whisper quickly, shoulders falling. 

He’s so close you can feel his body heat melting into you, and you want nothing more than to touch him. Simon’s hand comes up to your chin, and he angles it up as you stop breathing, lips parted.

“I heard you in the med ward talkin’ to Price. Was outside the door the ‘ole time.” The shadow. 

He tilts your head to the side to stare at the medical tape over the slashes in your skin. The scars won’t bother you—you had plenty of others to show as well. But Simon was…studying you. Assessing. 

His eyes blink slowly with those long pale lashes, and they slide up to you as he leans in close to your ear. Still, you stand comatose.

“You put me through a fucking heap ‘o hurt, Love.” You stare over his shoulder, not speaking, not moving. 

Simon leans back and lets go of your chin, brushing a finger over your nose and the puffy skin there.

“Never do that again.” It’s final, how he says it. But the layers of depth are plain to hear. Simon speaks low and even—gaze trapping yours like a curse. 

You know he won’t talk about the things you’ve heard. The aggression or the late-night gym trips. You’ve known him for years, and know his brain like the back of your hand.

Shivering, you nod once, content with not answering verbally to break the sanctity of the moment. Seeing Simon like this made you ease your fears. You clear your throat to push back the stuffiness.

“Thought you held grudges, Big Guy?” Nearly not heard, you mutter and pick at where the IV needle is supposed to be. 

A hand catches yours and stops you from making it bleed.

“Do,” Ghost grumbles, turning your hand over and moving his face closer until you feel his breath. “Just not with my Bird.” 

His balaclava is suddenly up to his nose, and those lips that had been covered in your blood previously situated themselves perfectly to yours. 

You gasp, arm outstretched beside you in shock. 

You’d kissed him before, but this felt different. More intimate. Simon’s arms slip around your waist, and you retaliate by locking your shaking arms behind his back, feeling the gentle passes of his lips. 

Mouth to mouth, you breathe each other in as if grasping for the other’s soul in desperation. A desperation that tells you how much the beast of a man around you was terrified of your death and the body he had to carry into the helo—of the lengths he would go to stave death from touching your tender flesh. 

No, only he was allowed to do that, and he was a reaper in his own right.

A small death that infected you at every breath puffing into your mouth, every whine and whimper he could draw like water to swallow down as ambrosia. Nectar of the Gods, and it was right there in his arms. Back. Alive. 

To be alive in the summer field of this old military base was to accept that death, and into it, hope that the few moments you had together truly made a difference. 

Simon would hold you there—and when that was done, wrap you in his jacket and carry your battered body back inside; watching your swollen lips and the wide eyes as they gaze back at him. 

Because he could hate you all he wanted for this, for the lies, for the way you made him care…but the both of you would still be alive to do so.

He guessed that was all that mattered.

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @waves-against-a-cliff, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @l-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

[cassandraclare]

A bit of publishing stuff (if you get my newsletter you've already seen this)

So by now you lovely people have all seen the announcement about what books I have coming up next. Ragpicker King is coming March 4, 2025, and The Last King of Faerie is coming early 2026.

I know a lot of you were hoping for LKOF to come earlier. It’s going to be a big gap between the last Shadowhunter book and the next — three years. Previously the longest gap between Shadowhunter books was two years, between Mortal Instruments and the Dark Artifices.

I announced last year that I was taking time off — six months. It was the first time I’d taken any real time off since 2005. The pandemic had just happened and I was wiped out physically and mentally. I also needed to take stock of where I was in my publishing journey and really think about what I wanted — it had been years since I’d had time to consider whether I was happy, because I always had another deadline and that was always more important.

  When I came to the end of The Last Hours, I was “out of contract” — meaning I didn’t have any further Shadowhunter books that were owned by or owed to a publisher.  it was the first time that had happened since, again, 2005. Being out of contract is your one chance to change anything you want to change about your career, and I knew I was going to leave my longtime US publisher of the Shadowhunter books and move to Random House, who published Sword Catcher.

This isn’t a small decision for any writer to make. It sometimes happens when a writer has been at a publisher for a very long time that the nature of the publisher changes. Maybe all the people you worked with when you first came to that publisher have gone elsewhere, so your team has inherited you rather than having chosen you. Maybe your publisher has been sold to another company whose vision for that publisher doesn’t fit with yours. Maybe your publisher isn’t interested in your genre anymore. 

I spent a lot of time agonizing over the decision—I certainly could have stayed where I was, but I knew that was no longer the best decision for the books. So those of you who pay attention to these kinds of details will note that where the other Shadowhunter books have all been published by McElderry Books, these next ones will be published by Knopf. (Who are an amazing imprint. They make great books.)

Normally a writer wouldn’t really address switching publishers — it happens a lot, and most readers don’t care who publishes a book. I’m talking about it now because I know there will be a lot of people who are angry and don’t understand why Ragpicker King is coming out before Last King of Faerie. The short answer is: Ragpicker King has been under contract since it was sold along with Sword Catcher, years ago now, and I’m obligated to get it done when I said I was going to. The books of The Wicked Powers are only just now securely under contract enough to be announced, as you just saw! So Ragpicker King is planned to be turned in in a couple of months, and after that I will be able to focus entirely on The Last King of Faerie (which I already began, but since it was only sold to Knopf last October, I was only able to get started after that).

And it takes a a year at least to write a book and another good year or so to publish it, and that gets us to the pub dates we’ve got. I would love if I could get it to you earlier, but multiple factors have brought us to this point, and in the end, not rushing through them is the best thing for the books, and will produce the best version of those books. I always want to get you my best work — that’s what is important to me above all things.

In terms of other publishers in other countries — I’m staying with all my longterm Shadowhunter publishers. Nothing’s going to change for y’all — Walker Books is still publishing Shadowhunters in the UK, even though a different publisher is going to publish In Fire Foretold there (due to spiciness.) ;) 

For those of you who backed the Kickstarter, that will mean you do get new Shadowhunter content between now and early 2026* — which was part of the reason I did it! I’m also talking to my new publisher about bringing Better in Black out — with at least a six month gap for the Kickstarter backers to have it to themselves — so fingers crossed. There’s also Black Volume of the Dead, the final Eldest Curses book, which is still planned and which I am still excited to write, but since it is set after Last King of Faerie, it hasn’t been scheduled yet. More news on that as it develops—for now, I wanted to talk directly about the schedule in the next couple of years, since I feel confident it is set and will reliably happen this way, something I can’t yet say about 2027 and beyond. The point is, I’m really excited to bring you Wicked Powers just as soon as it is ready, and I know enough about it to say  it’s going to be quite a ride!

And also an early look at In Fire Foretold.

[electricairfryer]

Letting the Cat out of the Bag...

So, I got a crazy, insane, ambitious idea a number of days ago.

What if I drew out and adapted my favorite, most beloved fanfic into a webcomic?

Well, here it is! The announcement you [may or may not] have been waiting for! I am going to attempt to take on the massive behemoth of a project that is transforming @sarcasticgaypotato 's fanfiction The Resurrection Project into an illustrated webcomic! This fic has honestly changed my life and helped me through hard times - and I want to show everyone my love for this story.

Now, I have never done something quite like this before, but I am determined I can push through [no guarantees - but I won't let myself give up on this easily]. I'm still working through lots of the nitty-gritty bits of the whole thing, but I want to keep the webcomic as faithful to the original fic as I can [that being said, go read the original fic too!].

Upload schedule will most likely be about 1 page per week... I'll try and speed things up here and there when I can though [don't count on it - I'm a team of exactly one (1) high school student here!].

The webcomic will be published to @trpillustrated, once I get everything up and running [I'll reblog pages to my main blog too though]. Currently I'm eyeballing the end of January for the start date, but keep an eye out for updates [as dates are subject to change]... Lastly, I just wanted to thank elvenwhovian's adaptation of another Portal fic, @bluesky-thewebcomic, for inspiring this whole project. I don't think I would have ever gotten this idea in the first place if I hadn't stumbled upon the Blue Sky webcomic way back when in 2020.

All in all, I'm extremely excited for this project, and I hope everyone else that reads this post will be too!

[starletdawn]

palces out of paragraphs

You sit on your bed eyes glued to your notes and your a sheet of paper. You had a 6 page essay coming up and it was worth 70% of your grade. You suddenly hear a knock. you jump from your bed. “Coming!” you say loudly expecting your parents back from their date night. As you open the door weirdly enough no one is there. You hear the knock again you turn around, and see your boyfriend Jason Dean waiting for you like a little puppy outside your bedroom window. For some reason he was obsessed with climbing your window this was honestly normal behavior for him. You quickly open the window and before you can say anything he goes into your room. He immediately wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you into a soft kiss. “What are you doing here baby?” I say as I pull away softly. “Well, I’ve barely seen you today at school. Where have you been my love?” he responds “I’ve been working on my essay I want a really good grade,” I say softly. “Well, now that you’re done with your essay what should we do? I mean I saw your parents leave the house earlier and I was thinking we could…” He smirks now putting his hands on your hips. “There are still some things I still have to review for my test.” You sigh as you bite your lip nervously “And I don't want any distractions.” “C’mon let me stay darling” He pouts leaning in to your cheek giving it a gentle kiss. “Okay, but promise to not distract me.”Promise!” He says you go back to studying. He plays with my hair and fidgets with your cat plushie. “I don’t understand why you try so hard once we get married I’ll spoil you with everything you want.You won’t have to work for a day.” He remarked although you rolled eyes your heart flutter at the thought of you being more than just a highschool fling. “On second thought I would love a smart-ass as my lover” JD teases. After a few minutes you started getting frustrated and tired. Your hands starts hurting and you can barely keep your eyes open the worst part was that you weren’t even close to done. “You should take a break sweetheart” Jason says looking into your tired eyes “No, I can’t” I groan. “You’ll be able to get more done if you’re energized. “C’mon just take a short break and then you can go back to working.” ”Fine” You finally give in. You lay your head on his chest He caress your hair and cheek. “You’re so gorgeous my dear I could stare at you forever and never get tired. You’re honestly the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” His words, his tender touch on my skin, His beautiful eyes all caused my body to relax and before I knew it I was in a deep slumber.

The cold breeze hits your arms goosebumps on your skin. You slowly open your eyes to complete darkness. You look over to your clock it’s 2:00am and Jason is no longer here. “He must’ve left” you thought to yourself. You quickly realized that you forgot to finish your essay you panic searching inside you backpack you find the essay and you suddenly realize It’s all done. All 6 pages filled with information you found a sticky note plastered to it. It read “I used all your notes and resources I tried my best to follow the prompt and use correct grammar I hope you like it my dear. Sincerely, JD” After reading through it. I was honestly surprised I knew Jason was smart (when it benefited him) but oh shit the essay was perfect. Despite his usual bad handwriting he wrote the essay in neat writing and honestly it looked like he put a lot effort into the paper for such short time. You put your essay back into the paper thinking about how lucky you were to have such a precious boyfriend.

This my first writing I’ve published so please be nice but feedback is welcome!!💗💗

[helloaugustmoon]

Michael Jackson x she/her!reader

this was my first ever request for this blog! thank you so much for requesting, angel, I hope you like it! ♡

·˚ ◌༘͙[Dating Michael] ! ˊ

Off The Wall - his shyest era, but also his least paranoid one; his focus will be your relationship rather than any media issue, so this’ll be an endless honeymoon phase era filled with the excitement of the start of something great. consistently throughout any era, Michael needs a lot of reassurance for his insecurities. you’ll be his first everything - if you’ve got any experience prior to him, you’ll need to guide him, but if you don’t, you’ll learn together. being his first, he’ll figure out his relationship style with you, his love languages of touch and gift giving, and he’ll go all out in both of those with you, given that he’s never had the opportunity to do so before. Michael wants you in every music video, he’s just so excited to be with you and show the world that you’re his

Thriller - it is quite literally only your insist and police refusal that means you’re not the star of the Thriller music video, I’m saying. there’s a lot of pressure on Michael during this era, but he won’t ever take that out on you, he’ll confide in you and need your comfort. you’ll be at every tour date with him, no question. he begins to understand the negatives of being in the public eye and gets very upset when the media publish anything pertaining to your relationship - who are they to have an opinion on what they know nothing about? it upsets him, but you’re there to reassure him that there words are nothing, that you two know you’re good and that’s all that matters.

Bad - very accustomed to being under scrutiny from the media by now, it bothers Michael less, but he’s more keen to keep your relationship private and is less insistent on you joining him when he’s on tour; you’re welcome to join him if you’d like to, but you’ll need an extensive security detail at all times - Michael will miss you terribly if you stay in Neverland, but he’ll write you everyday and return home in between dates as often as he can, and he’ll completely understand if you’d prefer to be there. he knows you’ll be safer there than you would be in all the penthouse suites he stays in all over the world, and coming home to you makes it all worth it.

Dangerous - this era specifically is Michael’s peak for gift giving (that ornate album cover says it all); he will insist upon buying you every single thing you ever want in general, but in this era? if you have some obscure dream of owning an animal shelter or hospital or store of any kind, Michael has it built for you in secret to surprise you with it. he wants you to have your own ventures, your own passions and joys, and he feels honored he is the one to give them to you. he loves hearing about you running your own business, seeing you so happy living your every dream with him.

Blood On The Dance Floor - not all that different to the Dangerous era except to stay Mike’s playing you from Neverland to wherever he is on any given day for some post-show romancing. that’s all. kinkiest era Idc.

Invincible - in this era, he’s adamant about staying home with you rather than touring; he’s seen so much of the world, you’re the only world he wants to orbit for the rest of his life. this is Michael’s most paranoid era, so everything is done with the utmost secrecy, in particular any travel/holiday plans, but he’ll take you anywhere you’d like to go, everywhere you’ve ever dreamt of visiting - home is wherever you are. this is very much also a honeymoon era, in that you will be Michael’s solace through the stress of this time, and that only makes him adore you all the more.

·˚ ◌༘͙[Additional Notes] ! ˊ

Michael is ready to have kids in any era, whenever you feel ready to. if you want children with him, there are contrary points to the above pertaining to you being in Neverland with your family, safe and happy, when Michael tours and that you will all fly out together to see him (only to destinations with the shortest flights so that the children don’t suffer any long flights), as well as further hc’s surrounding discussing baby names in quiet, giggling whispers in the dark, how differently Michael acts during your pregnancy, etc - please feel free to request separate hc’s for these! ♡

[mrs-dr-reid]

Show Me How Sorry

A Wolverine Fic

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Mutant!Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader makes Logan prove how sorry he is after an argument

Genre: A teensy bit angsty, then pure filth. I don’t make the rules, bub

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI (I mean it), Swearing, insecurity, crying, unprotected p in v (DON’T BE SILLY, WRAP YOUR WILLY), oral (fem receiving), fingering, choking kinda(?), a Hugh Jackman-sized Wolverine (aka size kink), groveling (*cackling intensifies*), breeding kink if you squint, kinda subby Logan/kinda dom reader but for plot reasons

A/N: You’re welcome. Also, ayyyyyy, first published work of smut! Big thanks to @snixkers for being my beta reader and editor, as well as @foxy-eva and @imagining-in-the-margins for being my human thesauruses.

Word Count: 2694

———————————————————————

Y/N had to hand it to Charles: the roof of X-Mansion was one of the best stewing places she’s ever come across. Throughout her life, she’d found herself in plenty of spots that were ample for sitting and seething about a bad day or a petty argument: fire escapes, tree houses, a water tower that one time, but none were as effective as crawling out of the window of her room at the mansion and sitting on top of the dormer with her knees pulled up to her chest. Which is what she was doing now, all because of Logan.

This particular fight was a long time coming. Ever since they’d started dating, little things had been piling up and slowly reaching a tipping point, leading to the idea that Logan didn’t think Y/N was capable of handling herself. She confronted him about it, and the resulting screaming match culminated in Logan slamming the door and Y/N retreating to the roof, where she had been staying for nearly two hours.

She was watching the sun sink below the treeline when she heard her window open and a familiar gruff voice. “Y’know, one of these days you’re gonna fall off the roof.” Logan crawled out of the window and fixed her with a disapproving stare. Y/N avoided eye contact and ground out, “For your information, Hard Ass, I’ve been doing this since before my mutation manifested, and I never fell off of anything once. And in case you forgot, I can fly, so even if I did, I’d be fine,” hugging her knees tighter.

Logan let out a sigh and said, “Can we talk? Please?”

She turned her head away. “Unless the next thing that comes out of your mouth is an apology, I don’t want to talk to you right now.” A groan escaped him, then she heard him say, “Okay, I’m sorry. Will you get off the roof now?”

The last embers of anger Y/N had left in her belly stoked back up into a raging fire at him reacting to her wanting an apology like it was some great inconvenience, and the idea that he was only saying it to get her to come back inside.

She whipped her head back towards him and snapped, “Sorry for what, Logan? Do you know why I’m upset with you, or are you just handing over a baseless apology hoping I’ll forgive you just like that?”

A look of surprise crossed Logan’s face at her tone. He thought for a moment, then said, “I think I know, but I want you to tell me anyway because I want to understand.”

His tone was even and measured like he was extending an olive branch, so Y/N nodded and let her legs hang off the dormer as she took a deep breath to steady herself.

“When I joined the X-Men, I thought I was finally done with people overlooking me, underestimating me, belittling me. I thought I’d finally found a group of people who would support me and let me handle things on my own. You’re the only one who doesn’t do that, and I can’t take it anymore, Logan. Do you have any idea what it feels like when the people you love actively show how much they don’t think you’re capable of? I have power now. I can make a huge difference in the world, and in the lives of the students, but hearing someone I love say in not so many words that I can’t handle something? It hurts.”

Logan was silent for a moment, then he carefully made his way onto the dormer. He sat beside Y/N, tilting her chin up so she’d look him in the eyes. “I’m sorry for makin’ you feel that way. You’re one of the most capable people I know, and I’m sorry for underestimatin’ you. I just don’t wanna see you get hurt if you take on more than you can bear on your own. You’re my best girl, and I wanna keep you safe, okay?”, he asked, wiping away the tear stains on Y/N’s cheeks.

She nodded, then said, “Thank you for the apology, and for explaining yourself.”

Logan smiled and said, “Anytime, Darlin’,” before kissing her forehead.

After a moment of silence only broken by the rustling of the wind and birds chirping, Y/N said, “I’m still mad at you though, Howlett, and words aren’t gonna cut it.”

Logan quirked his eyebrow. “Oh, really? Then what did you have in mind?”

She leaned in and whispered, “You’re gonna show me just how sorry you really are,” before sliding off the dormer and crawling back through her window. Logan watched, letting out a lustful groan as she did so.

Once he’d managed to get back through the window, his Adam’s apple bobbed at the sight of Y/N sitting on the end of her bed with her denim-clad legs spread and her flannel shirt partially unbuttoned to reveal a black lace bra underneath. She raised an eyebrow suggestively and said, “Get to work, Big Boy. You know where I want you.”

His eyes darkened before he husked, “Yes, ma’am,” and dropped to his knees in front of her.

Y/N unbuttoned her flannel the rest of the way and let it slip off her shoulders as Logan pressed open-mouthed kisses to her stomach, and she let out a breathy sigh of his name, weaving her fingers into his hair, when his lips started traveling lower and his hands came up to fiddle with the button of her skinny jeans.

She breathed out, “Go on, Tough Guy,” so Logan popped the button and started sliding her skinny jeans down her legs, cursing under his breath as it happened slower than he would have liked.

He grunted out, “Hate it when you wear these pants, Darlin’. Takes fuckin’ forever to get ‘em offa you.”

“I know. I only wear them when I want to make you work for it.” She unhooked her bra and sent it flying towards her hamper, earning her a groan from the man kneeling between her legs as he finally managed to rid her of the dreaded jeans. Y/N crooked her finger at him, so he obliged instantly, kissing his way from her clavicle to her inner thighs, nipping at her skin and soothing the bites with his tongue along the way in his efforts to coax his favorite noises from her.

Y/N let out a tiny gasp when she felt Logan’s breath on her clothed center, and gripped his hair tighter before he could do anything else. She made him look at her before she said, “Do you have anything to say for yourself, Logan?”

Logan ran his hands up and down her legs and said, “I’m sorry for hurting you, Sweetheart. I was being an asshole, and I’m so sorry. You smell so fuckin’ good, Baby. Can I show you how sorry I am now?”, while hooking his thumbs in the waistband of her black lace panties and looking up at her with pleading eyes. Y/N pretended to think for a moment, then loosened her grip on his hair and said, “Go ahead, Bubba.”

He groaned in thanks before sliding the soaked fabric down her legs and tossing them over his shoulder.

Logan took a moment to breathe in her scent, but when Y/N’s nails scratched at his scalp, he took the hint and draped her legs over his shoulders before pressing an open-mouthed kiss to her core. He let out a guttural moan when Y/N whispered, “Good boy,” and tightened her grip on his hair like she was trying to bury him in her pussy (not that he would have complained). He continued lapping at her like he was on death row and she was his last meal, relishing in the sounds he was drawing out of her. When Y/N was least expecting it, Logan added two fingers into the mix, which made her whine his name and dig her heels into his back.

He continued his ministrations, and Y/N felt the familiar knot in her belly tighten. “I’m so close, Lo. Always make me feel so good, Bubba.”

Logan let out an honest-to-god growl against her as he spread her legs even wider and sucked on her clit. Her orgasm crashed over her, and she let out a breathless moan of Logan’s name as if it was the only word she knew. He whispered soothing words against her as she came down from her high.

Once Y/N had caught her breath, she said, “You’re still wearing a lot of clothes there, Wolvie,” and fiddled with the collar of his leather jacket.

Logan shot her a look. “Still not satisfied with my apology, Princess?”

She sat up to gather the front of his tank top in her grasp, then pulled him onto the bed. “No, that was a perfectly adequate apology. I just need to remind you what happens when you hurt my feelings," before flipping them over so she was straddling him.

Logan’s eyes blew wide with lust, and he shed his jacket as quickly as he could while Y/N undid his belt and jeans. He went to put his hands on her hips, but she held his hands down at his sides. “Uh-uh. Touching is a privilege, Big Boy. You haven’t earned it back yet,” before ridding him of his pants and tank top. She kept his boxers on, and she rested all of her weight on his throbbing erection before sitting back on her heels and surveying him. She tilted her head to the side, a seductive smirk on her face as she shifted her hips ever so slightly so he could feel her desire pooling against him.

Logan dropped his head onto the pillow behind him and groaned, “Woman, you’re gonna be the death of me,”

Y/N leaned closer and whispered, “Quite a feat considering you’re effectively immortal,” before attaching her lips to his pulse point and running her hands down his broad chest, earning a guttural moan from the man beneath her. She snuck her hand into his boxers and stroked his length with her index finger a few times.

The whole time she was teasing him, Logan was gripping the sheets as hard as he could to keep his hands to himself.

Y/N withdrew her hand from Logan’s boxers. “You’ve been so good, Bubba. Have you learned your lesson?” She asked, toying with the waistband as he let out a strained, “Yes, ma’am.”

She replied, “Good,” then lifted herself off of him briefly to drag the final barrier between them down his legs and discard it. She lined herself up, then said, “Touch me, Lo. You’ve earned it,” before sinking down on his cock.

His hands flew up to grip her hips the second he was permitted while letting out a euphoric moan.

Y/N let out a whimper of, “So big, Honey. You fill me up so good. Fuck!”, and gripped Logan’s shoulders before starting to move above him.

He grunted out, “Love making you feel good, Sugar. Love how your tight little pussy squeezes me so perfect,” as he gripped her hips so tight she was sure there’d be bruises in the morning.

Y/N’s hands moved up to Logan’s neck, and she coaxed him into an upright position before pressing her lips to his in a breathless kiss, accidentally applying too much pressure on his throat as she got lost in his lips.

Logan gasped out, “Fuck, Baby!”, against her lips, which made Y/N realize her mistake.

“Sorry. Too much?” She began to remove her hands from his neck, but Logan reached up and grabbed one of her wrists to stop her and looked her in the eyes before husking, “Just the opposite, Baby Doll,” earning a delirious moan from Y/N. She tightened her grip slightly and continued rolling her hips in tandem with Logan’s thrusts. Many moments passed where the only sounds to be heard were the rustling of sheets, two pairs of lips moving in feverish tandem, and skin against skin, with the occasional breathless moan from Y/N or grunt from Logan.

Y/N felt the knot tightening again, and she could tell by the stuttering of Logan’s hips that he wasn’t too far behind.

“So good, Lo! Gonna make me cum!” She buried her hands in his hair once again to tug at the strands desperately.

He grunted back, “I’m close, too, Darlin’. Wanna cum inside you so bad, please, Baby?”, and attached his lips to her cleavage. Y/N let out a whimper before regaining what little composure she had left to whisper in Logan’s ear, “Fill me up like a good boy, Bubba."

That sent him over the edge.

He started driving his hips up into her like a man possessed. Y/N cried out his name as her climax barreled into her like a freight train, the spasms of her velvety walls bringing him right along with her.

“Fuck, Darlin!” He shouted as he grasped her tight. Y/N collapsed against him with a gasp as the final pulses of her pleasure faded away, and Logan continued rocking into her until he was completely spent, his large hands running up and down her back comfortingly.

Once they’d both come down from their respective highs, Y/N pressed her forehead against Logan’s and whispered, “I love you."

He nuzzled his nose against hers and whispered back, “Not as much as I love you, Darlin’,” before kissing her gently.

They stayed wrapped up in each other for a few moments of blissful silence, then Logan broke it by saying, “Am I forgiven now?”

Y/N giggled and buried her face in the crook of his neck before saying, “Can I get back to you in three to five business days? My brain is kinda mushy right now.”

Logan let out a snort. “Yeah, I can work with that." He pressed a kiss to her temple, then carefully pulled out of her to go get a warm cloth from the bathroom. Y/N rolled over to watch him go, and she silently thanked whatever deity sculpted his perfect ass and sent him her way before he came back and cleaned up the mess they made together, peppering kisses on her stomach and thighs as he did so.

Once he’d finished, he fished his boxers out of the haphazard pile of clothing that hadn’t exactly made it into the hamper, pulling them on before grabbing a Pink Floyd shirt (that he was well aware was stolen from him by her) and a pair of boy shorts from their respective drawers in her dresser. He handed them to her as he crawled back onto the bed.

Y/N tugged the well-loved cotton over her head and slid into the undergarments before beckoning Logan under the covers (which he happily obliged to), and let out a content sigh when he wrapped his strong arms around her and murmured, “Sweet Dreams, Baby,”

She was happy they were able to resolve their problem, albeit through slightly less conventional means.

———————————————————————

MCU Taglist: @libraryofloveletters

Let me know in the comments if you want to be added

[thefallennightmare]

One Night-Valentine's Day special

*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Pairings: Noah Sebastian x Reader

Warnings: lots of smut(mask play, spit play, bondage, anal, fingering, oral(m/f receiving), choking, unprotected sex), swearing, angst, fluff.

Summary: Nothing like a little Valentines Day smut for these two love birds!

Authors Note: Since this takes place during this universe, every thing that happened between Noah and Reader is still the same! Just a little pop in to see how they've been doing! Happy Valentines Day my lovelies! I hope you enjoy this little blurb!

Tags: @thescarlettvvitch @sammyjoeee @shilohrosechicken @malice-ov-mercy @thebadchic @niicoleleigh @lma1986 @dsireland86 @bellaboo967 @cookiesupplier @whenthesummerdies @bngurngheart @laurpartyprogram @thisbicc @lyinginbetween @princessmarshmallowx @loeytuan98 @cncohshit @lacktoesandtoddlerants @notingridslurkaccount @calleyx13 @jessiskyee @mrscevans @spicywhenspeaking @myownthoughts12 @br0kenangel23 @flowery-mess @lizzieseveride @illmakeyousaywow @burning-outx @xhedonistolisx @sinnamongirl @jilliemiw86 @shayzillaaaa @dream-machine-love

“Hi, who can I make this out to?” I smiled up at the person in front of me. 

The young blonde smiled wide. “Uh, Jennifer.” 

I picked up on her nerves but decided not to dwell on it like I’d done with the other 50 people before her. I opened the book Jennifer lay in front of me and wrote the same message I’d been writing all day.

Jennifer, 

Thank you so much for the support. 

XO

Y/N. 

“Thank you so much for coming out”, I said while sliding the book back to Jennifer. 

Jennifer shook her head while clutching the book close to her chest. “No, thank you, Y/N! I absolutely loved One Night. So when you were promoting Always Pretending, I knew I would have another book to add to my TBR list. Needless to say, it’s my favorite book ever.” 

My cheeks flushed. “Oh wow. Thank you so much for that, Jennifer. Truly, your praise means a lot.” 

With a wave, I continued the same thing for the next long while, signing book after book for my fans. This was the last day in a two-week-long book tour across the United States and to say I was exhausted was an understatement. Not to mention, I had a four-hour flight back home to Los Angeles as soon as I left this bookshop. Jackie, my assistant, knew how badly I wanted to get back home so she booked the earliest flight she could. 

It has been like this for the last year ever since I published One Night and now Always Pretending; both books on the bestseller list. While I was thankful for that, I wasn’t thankful for being away from home for so long. 

Away from Noah.

Our schedules didn’t seem to match up as of late. While I was away on my book signing tour, he was home resting because a week after I got back home, Bad Omens would be leaving for a round of festivals overseas. Noah wanted me to join him since I hadn’t been in a long time. We’d been dating for almost two years now and I had to miss out on the last two tours because of my own career. 

I had every intention of joining Noah now but needed to talk to Jackie about it first. She worked tirelessly to keep my schedule busy and jam-packed to promote my books but in my eyes, they didn't need any more promotion. I’d been working almost nonstop with these book tours, interviews, and not to mention trying to work on my third book. 

I needed a fucking break. 

I didn’t want it to seem to people that I was complaining because I was thankful for where I ended up. If you had told the girl two years ago who sat on that tour bus wondering if her first book would be good enough to become a best-selling author, she’d laugh in your face. 

Noticing that we were dwindling to the last few people, I powered through with a plastered smile even though my eyes were drowning in exhaustion. My phone lay on the table next to me, screen down but kept buzzing against the wood. Jackie went to reach for it but I shot her a look in between signing books. 

“I thought you’d want me to respond for you,” she tried to smile. 

I bit my tongue, not wanting to snap at the older woman because she was simply doing her job but I knew who was texting me and didn’t want her to see those messages. 

“It’s fine, thank you,” I muttered. 

Finally, after a two-hour signing, I was finished and shook out the cramps in my right hand while letting out a deep breath. It was almost 2 in the afternoon and my flight left in 3 hours which meant I had to rush across town to make it in time. 

“So, I was thinking,” Jackie started as I began to gather my things. “The local news channel would love to have you on their morning report tomorrow. I think it would be great publicity.” 

I raised a brow. “You seemed to forget that I have a flight in three hours, Jackie.” 

“I know,” she nodded. “But we can move some things around and-.” 

For the first time since she took over as my assistant, I said the word that I never wanted to because I knew how important the publicity side of my career was. 

“No.” 

Jackie blinked. “What?” 

I sighed while running a hand through my hair. “Look Jackie, while I appreciate everything you’ve done for me these past few months, I need a break. I’ve been going nonstop since One Night was published. I miss my life back in Los Angeles. I miss my quiet little apartment. I miss my boyfriend.” 

Noah’s smile flashed in my mind and my heart yearned to be back with him. About three months ago, he moved in with me but with how busy both of us had been it felt as if we didn’t have time to actually revel in living together. 

Not to mention, being away from him for two weeks made me horny as hell. Facetime sex paled in comparison to seeing and feeling the real thing. 

“But-.” 

I held up my hand to silence Jackie. “You deserve a break as well, Jackie. Take some time off, do things you love. When I’m ready to talk about book three, I’ll give you a call, alright?” 

Reluctantly, she nodded while tucking a piece of graying hair behind her ear. 

Bidding her goodbye, I threw my bag over my shoulder and then dragged my suitcase behind me to exit the bookstore only to immediately sit in the backseat of the black town car that had been waiting to take me to the airport. Once we were gliding along the road, I finally peered at my phone for the first time in a few hours. 

Noah: Angel, I’m so proud of everything you’ve done. Seeing how successful your book tour has been makes me smile. I can’t wait till you’re back home and we can celebrate. I love you so much. 

Noah: So, are you going to sign a copy of Always Pretending for me? Since you know, I was your muse for it. 

I rolled my eyes with a giggle before replying to Noah. 

Me: Oh please, you know I’d sign a book for my biggest fan. Also, I love you too. 

As I browsed through my phone, checking my social media and responding to emails, Noah texted back. 

Noah: So, we have a problem. I can’t pick you up from the airport because I forgot I had my therapy appointment at six.

My heart sunk to the depths of my stomach. All day I’d been looking forward to seeing Noah’s face as I stepped through the doors of the airport. But I knew that he couldn’t miss therapy. It was more important than picking me up. 

Me: It’s okay, love. I can order an uber. I should be back home by 8. Maybe we can have a late dinner together? 

Noah: Already taken care of, angel. 

With a yawn, I adjusted my glasses as I stepped through the gate doors of the airport, dragging my bags behind me. There was a delay in taking off at the last airport which meant I was now arriving in Los Angeles at 9 p.m rather than 7 p.m. I had to buy wifi on the plane so I could message Noah to let him know about the delay. 

Thank the gods I changed out of my professional attire at the last airport and opted to wear my Bad Omens joggers and Noah’s yellow hoodie; his smell still lingering. With my phone in one hand, I was about to order an Uber when my feet skidded to a halt at the sight in front of me. 

What a cheeky little…

Noah smirked as he held a bouquet of black daisies. 

“Hi, angel,” he mused. 

I reached for the flowers and brought them to my nose, inhaling their scent, and then peered up at Noah. 

“I thought you couldn’t pick me up.” 

Noah brushed away a loose strand of hair from my face. “I sort of lied. I had plans to pick you up then take you out to dinner for Valentine's day but when your flight got delayed, I had to switch things up.” 

“So you’ve been waiting here for two hours?” I asked. 

“Worth it.” 

He shrugged before wrapping his fingers behind my neck to bring our lips together in a long overdue kiss. His tongue immediately molded against mine and I moaned into it, my hand sprawling over his chest. The material of his Hereditary sweater felt warm underneath my palm and I let myself fall into him when his hands grasped my hips. 

“I missed you, Y/N,” Noah’s teeth grazed over my bottom lip. 

“I missed you too, love.” 

With his arm wrapped around my shoulder and other hand holding my bags, Noah led me out of the airport and towards his car parked in the parking lot. Once we were settled, he began the drive back home. I nestled into the passenger seat and let out a content sigh. 

“Tired?” Noah questioned with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on my thigh. 

“No, surprisingly. I thought I would be but I’m just happy to be back home.” 

He brought my hand to his lips to kiss along my knuckles. “I’m glad you’re back too, angel.” 

For the rest of the drive home, I told him how the book tour went while he told me what he did the last few weeks. Since it was down time for Bad Omens, Noah spent it either in the gym with Ash or in the studio with the guys. 

As we walked down the long hallway to our apartment, another yawn slipped through my lips and I nearly stumbled. Noah chuckled as he wrapped an arm around me to pull me into his chest. 

“You should get some sleep, angel.” 

I frowned while burying myself into his sweater. "I'm not tired."

His lips brushed along my forehead as we stopped in front of our door and he unlocked it. The darkness of our home escaped into the hallway as I stepped through the threshold and when I clicked on the lights, a gasp fell from my lips. 

Matching the daisies bouquet I had clutched in my arms, our entire apartment was littered. Music played softly as I noticed the steaming dinner plated on our kitchen island, candles lit and spread throughout. 

Turning on my heels, I gaped at Noah who leaned against the door with a smug smile. 

“What is this?” I asked, doing my best not to cry. 

“Happy Valentine's Day, angel. I had Jolly set this up for me while we were on our way home. He had to warm up the dinner I cooked earlier but I promise it’s still good,” he said. 

My eyes widened. “Oh, I forgot it’s Valentine's day! I was so busy with everything I didn’t get you anything.” 

Noah pushed himself off the door and immediately cupped my face so I could look up at him. The hood of his sweater was still pulled over his eyes, chocolate tendrils falling into his face. 

“You know I don’t need anything. Just you, angel. But I wanted to do something special for you because you deserve it.” 

I left a firm but quick kiss on his lips, muttering against them. “Thank you, Noah.” 

He smiled while motioning behind me. “Come on, let's eat.” 

“Fuck, Noah,” I moaned when his tongue licked up the patch of skin his teeth grazed. 

My nails dragged down his bare chest, leaving red marks along his tattoos, as he continued to slam his cock into me, the couch beneath us scraping along the wood floors. 

“So tight. I missed you,” he groaned into the crook of my neck as his hips stilled. 

I knew he was close but also knew that he didn’t want it to end yet. What started as a nice romantic dinner turned into a heavy make out session on the couch. Neither of us could wait any longer and needed to be connected once again. 

His fingers brushed along the folds of my pussy and I shook with the feeling as he slowly dragged his cock all the way out, only leaving the tip inside. 

“Noah,” I whined while raising my hips. “Please.” 

His teeth dragged along my nipples. “Please what?” 

I raked my nails through his hair and yanked back causing Noah to let out a loud hiss. “Fuck, angel.” 

“Stop teasing me and fuck me, Noah. Please.” 

My screams echoed throughout the apartment when he buried his cock deep witin me again, his pace becoming ruthless. But our position on the couch wasn’t the greatest, I needed to be able to feel him even deeper. We couldn’t make it to the bedroom when we first started and there was no way I was going to stop this now. 

Noah could tell I needed something different because with one strong arm, he lifted me from the couch to carry me over to the kitchen table. I squealed in delight as I writhed in his embrace. 

“What are you doing?” I asked as he made me lean back. 

He brushed back the sweat slicked hair from his forehead and licked his lips. “I need a taste of you.” 

With a tight grip on my thighs, he spread my legs wide apart before he knelt between them. The warmth of his tongue sent shockwaves to my entire system as he lapped up the remnants of my previous orgasm he gave me on the couch and I arched off the table when he began sucking on my clit. 

“Shit, Noah. I’m going to-.” 

With two fingers spearing me wide open before pumping in fast succession and his mouth sucking on my sensitive nub, I let the shock of my orgasm tear through me with such a force that it nearly took my breath away. 

“Such a good girl,” Noah mused while laying a kiss on the inside of my thigh. “I missed the way you taste.” 

I only had a few minutes to breath before he was yanking me off the table to now stand on my feet. He patted my ass. 

“Lean your hands against the window,” he nodded towards the patio door. 

“What-?” I shuffled on my feet. 

Noah’s lips attacked mine in a ravenous kiss and when he pulled away, he brushed my arousal off of his lips with his thumb. His bracelet and necklace glinted in the light from the lamppost outside. 

“Be a good girl, Y/N, and do what I say,” his voice was as dark as his eyes. 

Not wanting to disappoint, I quickly made my way over to the patio door that led out to our balcony and rested my psalm against the glass.Thankfully we shut off all but one of the lights so no one would be able to peer up into our apartment and see what we were doing.

"Keep your hands on the window," he demanded and then yanked my hips back to him so I was bent over. 

Nodding furiously, I spread my hands against the window of the patio door when his cocked slipped inside of me again, his name falling off my lips in a prayer. 

“That’s right, pray to your king,” Noah rasped as he bit down on my shoulder. 

One tattooed arm wrapped around my stomach while the other tightened around my throat to bring my chest against his back, this new angle making my vision blurry. It felt so good, the burn, and Noah knew how bad I needed it to hurt. 

 He squeezed until I felt the air being ripped away from me, his cock slamming into me with no sign of stopping. He never held back and I never wanted him too.  I needed it to hurt, needed it to burn, that I wouldn't be able to walk tomorrow.

When I felt the darkness creeping to the corners of my eyelids due to how tight he was gripping my throat, I let out a choked moan. 

“Safe word?” he muttered into my ear before kissing the skin behind there. 

Although his voice was soft and concerning, the way he fucked me was completley different. 

I did my best to shake my head with his tight grip around my throat. “Keep. Going. So. Close.” 

Noah eased his grip a bit so I could take a deep breath before he tightened it again. My orgasm was so close, I just needed a little something to have it wash over me. As my hand moved to my clit, Noah smacked my ass, the sound echoing through our apartment. Instead, his thumb pressed circles against my clit and that was exactly what I needed to let my orgasm finally release from the tightness of my body. I came with such vigor on Noah’s cock he groaned into my hairline. 

“Such a good girl,” he praised while letting go of the vice grip around my throat. 

Gulping for hair, I nodded. “Yes.” 

Nails dug into the skin of my hips as Noah’s pace became even more frantic, him chasing his own release, and I was so far gone in my post orgasmic haze that I nearly didn’t hear the two words he said. 

“Wh-what?” I stuttered. 

Noah’s hips stilled for a beat before he let out a deep, guttural groan when he spilled his warm release into me. 

“Marry me.” 

Before my body could fall into a heap to the ground, Noah lifted me to sit me on the edge of our kitchen island. His large hand cupped my cheek so I had no choice but to gaze upon him. His pupils were blown wide due to our actions and his chest rose and fell as he did his best to catch his breath. His warm cum dripped down my legs onto the cold marble beneath me but I didn’t dare think about the mess. I only thought about those two words. 

“What did you say?” I asked, still breathless. 

“Marry me,” Noah said again without an ounce of hesitation. 

Everything around us seemed to fall away, the eerie quiet of the apartment now ringing loudly in my ears. My heart beat loudly in my chest that I could feel it in my throat when I realized how sincere Noah was. This wasn’t a joke, he meant those words. 

As if he thought I was doubting him, he ripped open our junk drawer in the kitchen to pull out a small velvet box and my breath caught in my throat. 

“Fuck, you’re serious?” I choked out. 

Noah smiled wickedly as he opened the box, the light above the kitchen sink catching the diamond almost instantly. The gold band was thin but the oval shape of the diamond almost sat perfectly against it. 

“With you, Y/N. I’ve never been more serious about anything,” he said. 

My throat burned in the best way. Never in this lifetime did I ever expect to have such a romantic Valentine's Day. Guys in my past never gave a shit, especially Jacob, so to have Noah go all out was something I wasn't used too but knowing he loved me so much made my heart swell. 

I began to nod wildly. “Fuck yes!” 

With a laugh, Noah collided our lips together in a fever kiss before reluctantly pulling away to slide the ring onto my finger. 

“I didn’t mean to have a cliche proposal on Valentine's day. I planned on asking you if you came overseas but I couldn’t risk not asking you before,” Noah explained. 

I wrapped my legs around his naked form to bring him closer to me and I hung my arms around his neck. We were still naked and the cool air from the open window brushed along our heated skin. 

“I’m coming with you.” 

Noah’s eyes lit up. “You are?” 

“Yeah, I need a break and now that we’re engaged, I think we need to celebrate,” I waved the hand with the ring in front of his face playfully. 

He grasped it to leave a kiss upon the ring. “Say no more, angel.” 

My squeals bounced off the walls of our home as Noah carried me into our bedroom to start our engagement celebrations.

[swiftiewillwrite]

bruises (morning and night)

jason todd x reader

pairing - jason todd x reader

warnings - blood, scars (you dress ur vigilante boyfriends wounds)

a/n - hey! wrote and published this on ao3 a year ago, didn't change anything so hope its good!

It had been a normal Friday night. You had come home from work at the normal time, spent the normal amount of hours watching TV and showering. Ordered in for dinner, messed around on your phone. Nothing out of the ordinary. You had gone to bad feeling completely fulfilled and normal.

You had forgotten that normal is completely untrustworthy, especially when you're dating a vigilante.

Because hours after you had fallen asleep, you were awakened by the sound of a window being thrown open in your apartment. A gust of Gotham wind blew inside your home, intensely for just a second before it closed. As if to punctuate this, you heard a thump on your living room floor. Guard up, you slowly made your way to the noise, ready to fight whatever intruder had entered your home as you entered the living room. What you weren't expecting to see was your boyfriend, Jason Todd, sitting on your floor, blood clumping pieces of his hair together. You could see large scratches in his armor. You sped over, sitting on your knees next to him, placing a hand on his cheek. He put his hand over yours.

“Jason?” Your tone was alert, voice raised what you felt was an octave higher than normal.

“Heya, sweetheart. You mind helping me out?”

“Jesus, Jay! Yes, just- get your suit off and meet me in the bathroom, okay?” You look at him. “Are you sure this isn't something you should have Alfred do?” The curly-haired boy on your floor just smirked and replied;

“You’re a way better nurse,”

“You bet I am, asshole,” Your free hand moves to poke him in his side, carefully avoiding any visible wounds. “Now go get out of your gear so I can take care of you,” You stand, but he just looks at you from his place. “What?”

“Can you help me up?” He asks, almost pathetically (but you love him too much to ever tell him that). You roll your eyes, unmistakable annoyance in them. You reach out your hand for him to take. The weight of Jason's muscular frame almost started to weigh you down, but he was upright before he could pull you down with him. Jason placed a kiss to your cheek. “Thanks, babe,”

You watch him walk down the hallway to your room, every so often hearing a soft clang from one piece of metal hitting another as he undresses. You walk down the same hall, pulling a huge first aid kit out from under your bathroom sink and sitting down on the side of the bathtub. Jason joins you, clad only in a pair of boxers that he had left at your place during his last visit. Seeing him with his shirt off, you could tell that just from tonight many scars would be added to the almost full canvas of his chest. You patted the side of the tub. “Sit.”

Jason complied, wincing when a bruise on his thigh pressed against the hard porcelain. You turn on your detachable shower head, letting the water run through his messy curls and shampooing them until the water that once had run red with blood was clear again. You pass him a towel, admiring the way he dried his hair, letting his tousled curls fall back into place perfectly, no product needed. When he’s done drying himself, you take out an alcohol pad from the first aid kit. “Okay, this might sting,”

“Please, I’ll be fine- shit!” Jason hisses when the pad makes contact with his skin, fingers gripping the side of the tub.

“Will you?”

“Shut up. Just because you're pretty doesn't mean I can let just anything slide,”

“Same goes to you, Jay,” you flicked the space in between his eyebrows with your index finger. “Don't be a dick,”

The glare he gave you alone could have killed whoever it was that fought him on the street tonight. You smirk, wrapping up the first cut and pulling out another cleaning pad for the next. You clean, wrap, clean, wrap, for what feels like (and probably was) hours. You did this until every major and minor wound was taken care of, from his calves to his forehead. You stood when you were finished, admiring your handiwork.

“Alright Jaybird, we're done. C’mon, let's get you to bed, huh?” You put out a hand for him to take, once again pulling him up. Sun was just starting to stream through the small window in your bathroom.

“Only if you come with,” Jason winked at you.

Once again, your eyes roll. You had lost count of the times just tonight. “Obviously. I'm not letting you have my bed all to yourself, tame your ego,”

Jason scoffs, opening both the bathroom and bedroom doors for you to walk through. “Ladies first,”

“Assholes go second?” You turn your head to look at him, making sure he sees the teasing way your eyebrows raise at him.

His only response is leaning forward to kiss you, a slight metallic taste from the blood still lingering on his lips. You could taste it on your tongue, but you didn't mind. It just felt more… real that way. You pull back just to close the bedroom blinds, holding the sunrise back for just an hour more to let you and your asshole pretty boy get a little more rest. When you turned back to look at the bed, he was already cuddled in, blankets bunched against his chest. He left a side of the bed free for you to take your place. You did, claiming back some blankets for yourself. His eyes were still open, and you placed your head on the pillow, laying on your side to face him. There were about three inches separating the two of you, like the breath one exhaled became what the other inhaled. Voice soft, Jason broke the silence.

“Thank you for tonight,”

Your smile was soft, but not so small that it was hidden. “Of course, Jaybird. If you need me, I'm here. I know it's hard for you to be vulnerable after… everything, but really-” you put your hand on his cheek, rubbing your thumb back and forth, “-I listen, and I’ll take care of you.”

“Promise?” Jason's signature smirk re-entered his face.

“Yes, I promise,”

Jason held eye contact, looking at you expectantly.

“Yes?”

“Y’know, I think you need to seal it with a kiss,”

“God, I hate you,” you scoffed, smiling and using the hand already on his face to pull him into a kiss. You let it deepen, but tried to hold back from not getting any sleep the rest of the morning. You put your hand on his chest and pushed back.

“I love you too, babe,”

“That's not what I said, Jason,”

He hummed, tapping his chin with his finger. “Y’know, I think it actually is,”

You laughed again. “God, I'm in love with an overgrown teenager. What did I do wrong?”

Next to you, Jason snorts. “Nothing, you're just lucky,”

You smiled. “Yeah, real lucky. Now please, let me get the sleep you made me lose,”

“Not till you admit it.”

“Admit what?”

“You do love me,”

The mischievous look in his eyes was almost scary, but during moments like this, his hard, intimidating features just turned soft.

“I guess I might love you just a little bit,” A smile made his bright face even more beautiful, and you pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Now get some sleep, please,”

[nanowrimo]

Pro Tips from a NaNo Coach: How to Write a Novel in 30 Days

NaNoWriMo can seem like a daunting task sometimes, for NaNo newbies and veterans alike. Fortunately, our NaNo Coaches are here to help guide you through November! Today, author Adiba Jaigirdar is here to share her advice on how to set yourself up for noveling success:

Welcome to the very first week of NaNoWriMo! I’ve done NaNoWriMo for (almost) every year since 2008. I’ve won some, I’ve lost some, but I’ve learned a lot along the way. In fact, I apply a lot of the tactics I learned in NaNoWriMo to all my writing. When I wrote my second book, Hani and Ishu’s Guide to Fake Dating, I ended up with a first draft of 74,000 words written in 30 days. That wasn’t something I would have thought possible in 2008 when I was slogging through my very first 50,000-word novel. That’s why I’m here today to share with you a few tips and tricks I’ve picked up through my writing journey, in the hopes that they serve you and your novel this November: 

1. Accountability 

One of the most difficult parts of writing a novel is that it requires so much self-discipline. It’s not like a job you show up to where your boss is holding you accountable for how many words you’ve written. Only you are ultimately responsible for how much you get done—which is why it’s easy to get demotivated and give up. So, you need to figure out ways in which you can be accountable for your novel this month.

You’ll be glad to hear that you’ve already taken the first step in doing this: you’ve pledged to do NaNoWriMo. You’re here, ready to write. But you can go a step further: ask your friends and family to hold you accountable by checking in on your progress during the month. If you have friends who are doing NaNoWriMo that’s even better; you can hold each other accountable. If you’re on social media, you can share updates every day and be accountable to your followers. There are a lot of ways to do it; so figure out what kind of accountability works best for you! 

2. Planning 

Planning a novel is definitely not for everyone. This is coming from someone who has pantsed many books! Planning can look different for different people. If you are a true-blue plotter, you might have your entire novel planned from beginning to end, with comprehensive chapter outlines. But if you’re not someone who plots out your entire novel before you’ve written a single word, planning is still important.

This planning can look like a rough outline of your book or finishing your writing day and jotting down a few quick ideas of what to write when you come back to writing the next day, or it can be leaving yourself voice memos as ideas spark when you’re nowhere near your novel. Going into every new day of writing without any idea of what the blank page will hold is very, very daunting, which is why planning ahead can be just the motivation that you need to fulfill your word count goal for the day. 

3. Figure out what works for you 

I have published four books so far and I’ve written many more. The process of writing each of these books has been very different. I drafted one in three months, one in 30 days, one was completely plotted with a rigorous outline, while one was plotted with a flexible outline, and two were completely pantsed. What I’ve learned about myself is that to make a book work, sometimes I have to try something different.

The only thing NaNoWriMo requires of you is to write those 50,000 words. How you go about it depends on you. You don’t have to write every single day if that doesn’t work for you. You can write at the same time every day, or a different time every day depending on what sparks your creativity. You don’t have to participate in writing sprints if writing with a countdown doesn’t help you focus. The point is that now’s your time to figure out what works for you and what doesn’t. You might be surprised by what methods you swear will never work for you but ends up helping you over that finish line. 

4. Have fun!

This is easier said than done, but try to enjoy writing your novel. Especially when it feels difficult. When I wrote 74,000 words in 30 days, it felt like a breeze because I was having a lot of fun with my book. Try to remember what makes you excited about your novel and go back to that when it’s tough. If writing is what you love, find the joy of it and nurture it throughout this month. The more you enjoy it, the more likely you are to keep writing.

Adiba Jaigirdar is the award-winning, critically-acclaimed and bestselling author of The Henna Wars, Hani and Ishu’s Guide to Fake Dating, A Million to One, and The Dos and Donuts of Love. A Bangladeshi/Irish writer and former teacher, she has an MA in Postcolonial Studies and a BA in English and History. She is the winner of the YA book prize 2022, the KPMG Children’s Books Ireland Awards 2021, and was a finalist for the 2022 Lambda Literary awards. When not writing, she is probably ranting about the ills of colonialism, playing video games, or expanding her overflowing lipstick collection.

[popcornforone]

I’ll Make An Exception

A Frankie (Catfish) Morales Fic

Day 20 of Pedrotober

Masterlist

Ooooh so you all liked soft Frankie reading Fink did you (im publishing this now I’m home from my second viewing of The Wild Robot in 48hs) well today you get a bit more of the menace that we all fantasise about. God he’s talented.

Synopsis:- it’s the morning after you met a hot stranger at the bar.

Word count:-1100

Warnings over & above:- most of this is done by messages to each other, masturbation,naughty photos suggesting activities, sexual tension, swearing, alcohol, hook up friends with benefits.

Thanks for giving this a read my loves. As always please thank @alyssamariag & @norththelemon for setting this up.

Had the night before been a blur, or did it happen? You weren’t sure. You knew you were overly tired on this Sunday morning. Not actual hangover that made you dash to the bathroom to be sick but you did have a small headache. Past you knew this would be the case for Louisa birthday & you had a bottle of water & some painkillers by the bed, past you knew future you would need them. You’d also clearly had not been that tipsy as you had got home, locked the house up, taken your make up off & changed into your sleep shirt. That blue & white stripy one. Yet as you laid there thinking about if you should get brunch, you also felt happy. Like something had happened the night before.

That’s when your 11:30 emergency alarm went off. You knew you didn’t want to sleep in & not get any sleep before work on Monday on Sunday night. You’d learnt from past mistakes. As your hand reached to turn it off it stopped. This made you sit up in bed & reach for the phone.

Unknown number

1 message

You swiped & clicked & your eyes widened.

Morning beautiful, hope you got in okay last night 😘

It floods back. The handsome man at the bar. The one with the dirty cap that looked older than him. The stray locks & curls trying to escape it. Big brown eyes. Soft large hands. A grey shirt & jeans which well showed him off in all his glory.

You lie in bed & smile. Your friends know you often don’t like guys to flirt with you at bars, but you signaled to them that this one was fine. He had started out nervous, but from your memory you remember a gently kiss on the back of your hand, you kissing his beard patch, & vaguely remember grabbing his phone to put his number in, before your girls dragged you to the next bar for their happy hour. Your eyes lingering on him for as long as you could. Your blushing right now thinking about him, when the next message pings through.

If you don’t remember me that’s fine, but I just want to check your okay.

You smile & reply to him.

Morning, I’m alive not hungover how are you… frankie?

Your being honest when you ask that, something in the back of you mind just clicked that this was his name.

Ahhh I’m so glad you’re alright, & yes I am Frankie… how many guys did you give your number to last night? You know he’s starting off soft but you can tell from the messages & how you body feels as you think of him, that he could be the right kind of trouble for you.

Just the one, he was kinda cute & shy, I liked him. You can’t see frankie blush as he reads that message.

Lucky him, so I didn’t scare you off?

No 2 for 1 cocktails are clearly more important to my friends than my dating life

Which is?

Until last night none exisitant

& now?

Possible

So you think I’m a good dancing partner?

Whoever said we’d go dancing?

I mean in bed?

You almost choke on your bottle of water at his reply, he’s being forward now he’s realised you’re up for it. It’s not usually what you go for but you are enjoying this. Your arousal growing, tempted to get out your vibrator as you message this handsome stranger from the night before.

Well that all depends, I like whoever I bed to take me on a date first

Ooooh so dinner before desert

Yes

Hmmmm & what would I wake up to each morning if I decided to peruse this. You then quickly snap a selfie not caring how bad your hair is & send it to him so he can see you sleeping in the sleep shirt. Frankie has to palm his cock instantly once he receives the photos.

Any panties under that?

Yes, a small red thong

Damn it baby

& you frankie? What does a smoking hot pilot wear to bed. Your turn to receive a topless selfie, you lick your lips looking at his good body, his chest you want to bury your head in as you bounce up & down on his cock moaning his name as he grabs your arse & he tells you to be a good girl. Your own hand goes to your clit.

Hmmm nice view

I think mine would be better. You then do the ultimate power move & take your thong off & send him a photo of it on the bedroom floor.

Well I’m sure that’s a view you’d like to see.

You fucking tease

You started it

Did not

Did too 🤪

You go back & forth with this. Your pace picking up. He’s asked you if you like someone in control, if you shut your eyes when you cum. The friction unbearable & you moan in a voice note going fuck yes. You have know I dear that this send him over the edge too. Frankie cums all over his hand. A waste he says to himself. After all the self pleasure he then send you one final message.

What if you turned your location on right now to your phone? What would happen?

I dunno come round & find out. You turn on your location & then hear nothing at all for 15mins. You lie there damp & ready to be ravaged by a man who you know nothing about other than he likes to pull a girls hair as she sits as his reverse cow girl.

Then the door bell goes off & you walk downstairs to open it. There in the midday sun stand frankie, he’d clearly thrown on what was near him, long shorts with paint stains on them a grey tshirt & that cap. you stand there still in just your night shirt & look at him.

“Hello handsome”

“Hi does this count as a date?” He asks as he clicks his keys to make sure his truck is locked & you can see his other hand is over his manhood trying to not cum at the state of you in a bed shirt that just about covers your bum.

“No but for you sexy”You wink & grab his hand”I’ll make an exception”

You drag him into your house & lock the door & he pushes you up against it. Clothes fly off everywhere as what was going to be your lazy Sundays for recovery becomes one of the most passionate afternoons of love making in your life.

[merrybloomwrites]

You Can Start a Family (Chapter 10)

Summary: Love on Tour comes to an end, and new relationships begin in Italy.

Previous Chapters: One ; Two ; Three ; Four ; Five ; Six ; Seven ; Eight ; Nine

CW: Smut

This is the final chapter of this main story! But don't worry, I have lot's of plans for blurb/ one shots. Check out my last post here for more details about that. And please send me requests!!

Thank you to everyone who has read this story! It's the first things I've ever published like this and the feedback has truly been wonderful. I hope you enjoy this last chapter.

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The second week of traveling Europe and going to shows is just as wonderful as the first. Maybe even more so. You’re more comfortable with everyone, having become friends with the whole band and a fair number of crew members. Things have calmed down slightly, and you learn that there was a lot of extra craziness surrounding the Slane and Wembley shows. Everyone has a bit more free time now, including Harry.

You, Harry, Sarah, and Mitch hang out a couple of times all together. Each pairing also spends some quality one on one time together. Sarah made plans for the two of you to get massages as well and mani pedis during a day off in Cardiff. You and Mitch have lunch together followed by him teaching you some new skills on guitar. Harry had found a hiking trail he wanted to try so the two of you do that together and have a picnic.

Mitch and Sarah each go out with Harry, and have a date just the two of them. After each outing you all tell each other what you’d done but don’t share all of the details. It doesn’t seem necessary. There is an inherent trust that you all have, and this allows you all to keep some of the individual moments special. You’d realized that in a relationship with this many people, each individual pairing needs to be fostered.

The four of you are able to hang as a group two times that week. The first time, you all go for a walk in Cardiff together and have lunch. The next day you have a movie night in Harry’s hotel room. Both times are very casual, and the conversation about Harry officially entering the relationship is never brought up. There’s an understanding that things are to go back to normal until tour ends.

You enjoy the last three shows you are at. There is a chance you’ll be back for the final show in Italy, but nothing is set in stone, so you keep that to yourself. You wander around the stadium with Brad again for the two Cardiff shows and are permitted to sit in front of the barrier during the show in Belgium. You take in every moment in Werchter, ignoring that this time tomorrow you’ll be back home. You latch on to Mitch and Sarah the second the show ends.

The three of you fight sleep that night, staying up too late talking, kissing, exploring each other’s bodies once again. You wake up wrapped in their arms and continue the activities from the night before. You spend time simply pleasing each other with your hands and mouths until your alarm goes off, signaling you need to start getting ready for the airport.

You shower, get dressed and make sure everything is packed. There are about 15 minutes left before your car leaves for the airport, and you hear a knock at the door. Mitch goes to answer and a moment later he walks back, Harry following him.

“I just wanted to say good-bye,” he says. “It truly has been wonderful getting to know you these past couple of weeks.”

“I’ve had a great time hanging out,” you reply.

“Will I see you again soon?” he asks.

“I hope so. I’m working on it.”

“Good,” he says as he pulls you in for a hug. It’s everything you’ve come to expect from Harry’s hugs- comforting, long, feels like home. You say good-bye to him before pulling back, and soon after he leaves so that you have alone time with Mitch and Sarah.

You’ve been holding up better than when they left you a few weeks prior, but as the time to depart draws closer, your eyes start to fill with tears. You look up, trying to blink them away, but it’s no use.

The second they notice Mitch and Sarah wrap their arms around you. For a few minutes no one speaks. You all just stay in this group hug, comforting one another and soaking up the contact. Your phone buzzes, and you have a text from Pete saying he’s available to drive you when you’re ready.

Sarah steps back, allowing Mitch to pull your lips up and meet his. “I love you,” he says against your mouth before moving to press a kiss to the crown of your head. “I’ll miss you baby.”

“I’ll miss you too, Mitch. I love you so much.” After one more kiss you turn from him to Sarah who immediately pulls you in tight.

“I love you sweetheart. And we’ll see you again soon, okay?”

“Okay,” you say, now so emotional that you’re having trouble getting the words out. Your “I love you” is barely a whisper, but she hears. Her hands rub your back and she kisses you just like Mitch had- first your lips, then your forehead. You keep your eyes closed, committing every detail of this interaction to memory so you can hold on to these feelings as long as possible.

You take a deep breath and finally break the hug. You grab your bags, dry your tears, share one more simple peck with each of them and walk out of the room.

Pete is waiting in the lobby along with Madi who says, “Hope you don’t mind me tagging along. A friend of mine is landing soon, and I wanted to be there to pick her up.”

You’re happy to have Madi’s company, so you reply, “I don’t mind at all!” and you give her a genuine smile. It was hard saying good-bye to Mitch and Sarah, which is why you had decided it should be done in private and not at the airport, but having Madi in the car with you raises your mood. It makes you realize that in the past two weeks you have made a lot of new friends, which is something so difficult in your adult life.

You spend much of the flight home thinking about all those friendships, the moments you spent with the band and the crew. Though you are sad to leave, you also feel happier than you have in a long time.

You text Mitch and Sarah once you get home and even though it’s the middle of the night for them, they both reply immediately. It fills you with warmth to know that they stayed up until they knew you were home safe.

*****

The next few weeks are just like those first weeks of tour, except this time you’re on the phone with more than just Mitch and Sarah. You speak to Harry every couple of days, and occasionally get to FaceTime with other members of the band when they hang out together.

A week after you leave you find out that Harry has rented out a number of homes in Italy for the week following the final show. Much of the band and crew would be staying there for a relaxing vacation after these stressful months. At first Mitch and Sarah say that they’re not going to stay, that they want to fly back to you as soon as it’s done, but you tell them not to come back right away.

You tell them that baby Ryan’s grandparents are planning to visit, and that you’re going to get more time off that week. You assure them that you can fly out at least for the second half. What you don’t tell them is that you’re actually planning to get to Italy just in time for the final show. Pete’s been helping you coordinate the details, ensuring that no one else knows. You’re not sure if he’s an incredibly loyal person, or if he simply doesn’t care about your personal life, but he’s a lifesaver for helping you without asking any questions.

The weeks end up flying by. You and Ryan spend as much time outside running around or swimming in the pool as possible. You’re keeping so active that you’re exhausted by the time you get home each night. While tiring, it comes in handy because before you know it, you’re packing for a week in Italy.

Keeping your travel plans a secret from Mitch and Sarah is difficult, especially when they call you while you wait at the airport. You run to find a quiet corner, praying no overhead announcements get picked up by the phone. You keep things light, a normal Friday night phone call before they head to bed. When they hang up you breathe a sigh of relief, as it seems they didn’t figure out your whereabouts.

This trip is definitely more stressful than the last. It’s not a direct flight and the second leg is delayed. Once you land you still have to take two trains, and due to you arriving late you miss your original departure. You get new tickets sorted and grab lunch to enjoy on the way. Finally, you arrive in Reggio Emilia, but Pete is no longer able to pick you up, since he has other jobs assigned to him. He sends another crew member, Erin, which leads to a moment of confusion since you hadn’t met her before and didn’t have a way to contact her. It takes a while but you eventually find her in the pickup area.

It's nearly 6 PM by the time you make it to the stadium. Erin ends up being a literal godsend and shows you a place where you can quickly freshen up and get changed. She also takes care of your luggage and leads you down the hall to the band dressing room.

Luckily the door is open, so you walk right in. Ariza is the first to notice, shouting, “Hey! She’s back!” which alerts everyone else to your presence.

You’re looking right at Mitch and Sarah, and you can tell the exact moment they realize who Ariza is talking about. You blink and the next thing you know Mitch has wrapped his arms tight around your waist to pick you up and spin you in a circle. He quickly puts you down and lets go, not wanting to be too obvious in front of the whole band.

Sarah hugs you next, tucking her face into your shoulder and pressing a kiss there knowing that your hair is blocking the intimate gesture. You’re then pulled into hugs by the rest of the band as well as some crew members who pass by.

After a short conversation with the band, they turn to continue getting ready. There’s definitely a different atmosphere in the room than usual, and you know everybody is dealing with their mixed emotions about this being the final show.

“Do you think there’s any chance I can say hello to Harry before the show?” you ask Mitch.

“We can go check,” he replies, “but I’m not sure if he’ll want to see people right now or be alone.”

“Of course.”

The three of you walk down the hall and Sarah gently knocks on the door. You’re standing behind her and Mitch, and so Harry doesn’t notice you when he opens the door.

“Hey guys, what’s up?” he says with a smile.

“Brought a surprise,” Sarah says before stepping to the side.

The second he sees you his eyes light up. He pulls you in for a hug, one arm secure around your waist while the other holds the back of your head. You stay like that for a full minute before he pulls back and ushers the three of you into his dressing room.

He sits in his chair, gesturing that the three of you take the couch. You sit in between Mitch and Sarah who each take one of your hands in theirs, still in slight disbelief that you’re there.

“I thought you weren’t coming for another few days,” Harry states.

“Yea, why’d you lie?” Sarah asks with a smile.

“Honestly, I wasn’t sure this would work out. I didn’t want anyone to get their hopes up just in case I didn’t make it. And I barely did. I was supposed to get here hours ago.”

“What happened?”

“Typical travel nonsense, nothing to worry about. Now tell me, how are you all feeling?”

Everyone is quiet for a minute. Harry speaks up first, saying, “I’m feeling sad that it’s ending. And proud of what we accomplished. It’s very bittersweet.” He pauses and the others nod their heads in agreement. “And I’m also feeling very hopeful. I will say I’m glad to have something to look forward to.”

You give him a confused look, not exactly sure what he’s talking about. He continues, “I mean if the offer is still there. For me to join you all.”

It clicks in your mind and your expression changes immediately.

Mitch reassures him quickly, “Of course the offer is still there. We want you to be a part of this Harry. You’re so important to us, and if we can make this work, I think we’ll all be extremely happy.”

Harry visibly relaxes in front of you, a content smile spreading across his face. This moment of peace is short lived as there is another knock on the door. Pete is there alerting everyone that it’s almost time for Wet Leg to open the show.

“I should go, I want to talk to them before they start,” Harry says.

You all get up and you turn to give Harry another hug before leaving, as you know you likely won’t see him again before the show starts. You lean in to say, “I am incredibly proud of you. Everything you’ve done is amazing. And I’m very happy to see what the next chapter brings for you, and for all of us together.”

When you pull back you see a hint of tears in his eyes. He blinks them away before looking back at you. He brings one hand up to rest on the side of your face and then hesitates. He moves forward slightly, your eyes meeting and his lips a mere inch from yours. At the last second, he seems to stop himself, and you feel his lips press against your cheek.

He pulls away to press a kiss to Mitch and Sarah’s cheeks as well, and you’re all blushing when you walk out of the room.

After a brief stop in the band dressing room, you all head out to watch Wet Leg. Sarah and Mitch are more reserved, standing together, Mitch’s arm around Sarah’s waist. A part of you wishes you could be like that in public, but you’re honestly just happy to watch them be adorable. Plus, you know the fans are loving how cute they’re being. You dance with Madi, Elin, Ariza, and Pauli and have a wonderful time.

Once Wet Leg is done you join the people who are congratulating them. After a little while you make your way to the band’s room again so you can see Mitch and Sarah before they go on. You don’t say anything, but you don’t have to. They heard your words to Harry earlier and they know you’d be saying the same to them if you had privacy.

You use your all access pass to its limits during the show, moving around to wherever you’ll get the best views without blocking any of the fans or getting in the crews’ way.

You’re mesmerized from the first moment everyone steps on stage. Harry looks amazing in his silver outfit, and you love the denim jumpsuits on the band. You practically melt every time Harry speaks in Italian. The extra songs are so special, and you barely hear the Two Ghosts intro leading to Falling because the crowd is screaming so loud.

At one point you find yourself with Brad, James Corden and a few others mixing in with the fans. Everyone loses their minds when they do the full version of Best Song Ever, including you.

You cheer extra loud for everyone when Harry introduces the band. Fine Line nearly brings you to tears. The piano piece that Harry wrote to play as the final song truly did bring you to tears. It was so beautiful and a perfect ending to the tour.

Everyone takes their final bows. Harry walks across the stage, thanking all of his fans before moving back to the center. He takes it all in, finally falling to his knees because he is so overwhelmed with emotions. You glance at Mitch and Sarah, now standing together with arms wrapped around each other. They’re watching him and you can see the love and admiration in their eyes. They’re just as proud of him as everyone else.

As soon as they walk backstage you and the rest of the family and friends head there as well. Immediately you’re met with celebratory chaos. For a solid half hour there’s cheering, shouting, dancing. Finally, everyone starts breaking away to get changed. After everyone is ready you all head over to a nearby club to properly celebrate the end of tour.

The place Harry chose is perfect. Downstairs in a small dining room, quiet music playing, and delicious Italian food set up along one wall. Upstairs is the complete opposite. It’s darker, there’s loud music, and a bar is set up on every wall of the room.

After scoping out the place Mitch simply says, “food” so you join him and Sarah at the buffet. The three of you are joined at a table by Madi and two of her friends. The food is delicious. Your family may be Italian, but they’ve never made anything this good.

Once you’re all satisfied you head upstairs. It’s gotten extremely crowded, and you have to weave your way through people to get to the bar. Sarah orders for everyone since she has the loudest voice out of the trio. You smile as she hands you your favorite.

For the next hour or so you dance, drink, sing along to the music, and have a great time. It’s been years since you’ve let loose like this, and you’re enjoying the freedom of it. For the most part you stick with Mitch and Sarah, but you also spend time hanging out with other band or crew members.

You find yourself lost in the crowd after Pauli leaves the dance floor to head to the bathroom. A moment later a man you don’t recognize walks up to you.

While the party is mostly for all the people who worked on the tour, there are also others there that you haven’t met. Some are crew members you haven’t had the chance to talk to, and some are friends, family members, or industry contacts that got an invite because of the status they hold.

“Hey, I’m Ricky,” he says, holding his hand out to you.

“I’m Y/N, nice to meet you,” you reply while quickly shaking his hand. You don’t necessarily want to talk to him, but you were always taught to be polite.

“Great party huh?” he asks, trying to keep the conversation going.

“Oh, yea, it’s pretty cool,” you reply, looking around for someone that you know but not being able to see anyone. You can’t explain it, but something about this guy has you feeling uncomfortable.

“What are you drinking? I can get you a refill.”

“Thank you but I’m alright.”

“Yea it’s getting late huh. Maybe we could get out of here, have another after party of our own.” And there it is. You’ve been hit on a couple of times before and you never know how to respond.

“No, I think I’m just going to find some of my friends.” You turn and try to walk away but he grabs your wrist to keep you there. The second his skin touches yours you start to panic. You’re not fully freaking out, figuring he wouldn’t try something in a room full of people, but what if he’s able to get you alone?

“I could be your friend.” If you weren’t so worried about what he might do, you’d be rolling your eyes at that awful line and the way he thought that would actually work on you.

“That’s okay, I’m all set on friends at the moment. Now please let go of me.”

His other hand slides to your hip, gripping tightly and he leans in to say, “Oh c’mon babe, don’t play so hard to get. It’s a night for celebrating. Let’s have some fun.”

Your panic kicks up a notch at how close he is, and how tightly he’s holding on to you. It’s becoming more obvious he’s not going to take no for an answer, and you’re desperately trying to think of ways to get away from him, or at the very least, stay in the crowded party room until someone finds you.

He steps more into your space and your mind goes blank with fear. Suddenly there’s a hand on the small of your back and you jump at the touch. “Shh, love, it’s just me,” you hear Sarah say and take a deep, relieved breath. You’re finally free from his hold and you lean into Sarah who wraps her arm tight around your waist.

You look up and see Mitch leaning over Ricky, talking so low that you can’t hear him, but whatever he says works and the man walks away looking both embarrassed and afraid. Mitch takes a deep breath before turning to you. He cups your face in his hand and asks, “Are you okay?”

Your eyes are wide with leftover fear and panic as you meet his, but you nod. “I’m okay,” you say quietly, but they’re both close enough to hear you.

“Okay. Good. Do you want to leave and go back to the house?”

You shake your head no. “I really don’t want to end the night on that note. Can we stay a little longer?”

“Yea, baby, whatever you want.”

“But just stay with me, okay?”

“Of course,” Sarah says.

Mitch adds, “We’re not leaving your side for a second.”

You take another minute to collect yourself and put a smile back on your face before sliding your hand into Sarah’s and leading her to the dance floor. At first, you’re not as into it as before, going through the motions rather than fully dancing. Eventually the rest of the band joins in and you feed off their positive vibes. By the time people start leaving an hour or so later you’ve basically forgotten about Ricky.

After another little while most of the people have gone. The music is turned down and the lights are still dim but brighter than before. Mitch leads you and Sarah over to one of the bars, where Harry now seems to be sitting by himself, a new drink in hand.

You had lost track of Harry an hour or so before, and it seems he had spent much of that time in this location. You’ve never seen him drunk before, and while he’s certainly not wasted, he’s not sober either. He has a sort of a lost, sad puppy look on his face.

“You alright man?” Mitch asks, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Yea, mate. I’m good,” Harry replies in a tone that indicates he’s definitely not as good as he says.

 Mitch gently takes the glass from his hand and places it on the bar and says, “I think it’s time to go. They’re starting to clean everything up.”

“I don’t want to go,” Harry replies. A beat later he continues, “I don’t want to be alone.”

Your heart breaks at the sadness in his voice and you share a look with Mitch and Sarah. You know they feel the same.

“You’re not going to be alone, love,” Sarah says gently. Harry looks up at her, not understanding. “We’re coming with you. Tours over. We’re all going to be together. And that can start tonight. Does that sound alright to you?”

His face lights up at this news. He nods and looks between the three of you, seeing smiles on all of your faces.

“Come on, let’s get going,” Mitch says, wrapping an arm around Harry and supporting him out to the car. Harry leans heavily on him, but you think this has less to do with being unsteadily drunk and more to do with seeking comfort from the physical touch. You know that’s what he’s doing because you’re doing the same with Sarah.

A large black Chevy Suburban is waiting outside for your group. You and Sarah climb into the back row and Mitch and Harry take the middle. You try to stay awake for the drive, but it turns out you’re heading straight to the beach villa which is two hours away. You fight sleep for the first few minutes, trying to watch the scenery outside, but Sarah sees what you’re doing. She knows that between working all day Friday and then immediately traveling to the show, you likely haven’t slept in close to 40 hours.

Her arm wraps around you and her hand presses gently on the side of your head. “Sleep my love,” she says. You stop trying to fight it and instead melt into her side, your head resting on her shoulder. You fall asleep immediately.

The sun is starting to rise by the time you arrive at the house. The others had all dozed off as well but wake up when you pull into the driveway. You, however, snuggle closer to Sarah, refusing to open your eyes. Mitch looks back and sees the predicament and says to Sarah, “Go in with Harry, I’ll take care of her.”

Sarah moves you so that you’re leaning against the window instead of against her. Mitch lowers the middle row of seats so that Sarah can get out and so he can reach you. He carries you into the house and finds the other two in the bedroom. Harry is setting out some of his clothes for everyone.

“I don’t think they knew where to bring your bags. We’ll get them here in the morning, but you can borrow these for now.” Mitch lays you on the bed and takes off your clothes from the day, pulling a large t-shirt over your head to cover you.

“If you guys want you can have this room, I’ll sleep in the other one,” Harry says.

Mitch and Sarah share a confused look. “Harry,” Sarah starts. “We were planning on you staying with us here. So that we’re all together.”

“Will we all fit?”

“Of course we will. Y/N typically sleeps on top of one of us anyway so technically she doesn’t take up any room,” Mitch says with a fond smile.

They climb into bed with you, Sarah next to you on one side with Harry on the other. Mitch checks the doors are locked before turning off the light and getting in next to Harry. Everyone falls asleep within minutes.

You wake up to bright sunlight in an unfamiliar room. You’re laying on top of someone, a male someone, but it isn’t Mitch. You think about everything you remember from the previous night, and panic. The only thing that comes to mind that could explain the current situation would be if Ricky had come back and somehow got you to go home with him.

You quickly sit up, moving so suddenly that you nearly fall off of the bed. Sarah catching you is the only reason you don’t fall to the floor. Seeing her is enough to break through the panic, and your brain finally wakes up enough to realize what’s going on.

You weren’t sleeping on Mitch, but he is right next to you. It was Harry underneath you. You’re embarrassed by your reaction, and disappointed that you ruined what should’ve been a sweet moment.

“Are you okay?” Harry asks. “Did I do something to make you uncomfortable?”

“No! Not at all. I’m fine, I just got confused for a minute. There was a guy last night who was hitting on me and not taking no for an answer and when I woke up in a new place, I got scared thinking I was with him. Just freaked out for a second.”

“Who was it?”

“I think he said his name was Ricky.”

“I don’t know a Ricky. He must be one of the people management insisted we invite for networking. I can get the guest list, figure out exactly who he is if you want. Get him fired or something.”

His protectiveness has you feeling incredibly cared for, but you assure him that it’s fine.

“Can we just redo that?” you ask.

“What do you mean?” Sarah says.

“Redo the start of the day. It’s the first time all four of us are waking up together and I ruined it!”

“You did not ruin anything Y/N,” Mitch says. “You expressed real emotions, okay? We’ve talked about this; you can’t feel guilty for having feelings.”

“I know, I know! I’m not trying to ignore my feelings. But I want today to be a happy day. And I want to start it right. So can we please forget all that and redo?”

“Yes, love,” Sarah says. “We can start again if that’s what you’d like.”

“Thank you!” You crash into Harry, pushing him back so he’s once again laying down with you on top of him.

You lift your head off his chest to meet his eyes. “Good morning darling,” he says, and you smile as you say the same to him. You then turn to Mitch and Sarah and they each wish you good morning and place a kiss on your lips.

There’s a moment where no one knows what to do next, but Mitch makes a decision. He leans down so he’s level with Harry. Their eyes meet and slowly they inch their faces closer together. Finally, their lips meet. It’s a small press of their lips, chaste, almost domestic, like it’s something they’ve been doing to greet each other every morning for years.

When they pull back there’s a new light in Harry’s eyes. He looks happy and peaceful, like he’s been waiting for this forever. He turns his head, and since you’re still on top of him you think it’s your turn to properly greet him. But Sarah leans in, capturing his lips with her own. Mitch chuckles as you pout, but the expression quickly fades away as you watch the two of them.

While the kiss with Mitch was one of familiarity, and rekindling a romance, this is two people exploring each other for the first time. After years of friendship and working together, they now get to come together in this new way. They take a minute to get lost in one another, and you smile as you hear soft sighs from both of them.

They break apart and Harry looks to you. He brings his hands up to cup your cheeks and you move so close that your noses brush and you can feel his soft exhale on your skin.

“Is this okay?” he asks quietly, and you whisper “yes” before crashing your lips to his. His fingers slide through your hair, holding you close to him as his lips slot against yours. It’s a short kiss that has you craving more, but as you pull away you know it’s perfect for the moment.

“I want to have a proper date with you all,” Harry says.

“We’d love that,” Sarah answers.

“Tonight. I don’t want to waste another minute.”

The conversation is interrupted by knocking at the front door. You move so that Harry can get up and answer it. He walks back a minute later and lets you guys know that your luggage was just dropped off. Hearing that makes you realize how long it’s been since your last shower and so you open your bag and grab what you’ll need.

Everyone takes turns showering and getting ready. Once you’re done you realize you’re starving and look at the clock. You’re shocked to see it’s already past 2 in the afternoon. You head to the kitchen and see Harry making sandwiches for everyone.

“Anything I can help with?” you ask.

“Got a bunch of fruit in the fridge, can you help me cut that up?”

“Absolutely!”

You get to work, natural light streaming through the windows of the beautiful kitchen. The four of you sit down for lunch and then enjoy the afternoon sitting out by the pool. Luckily the house is set away and is completely private, allowing you all to be yourselves without fear of fans or paparazzi seeing.

By 5 o’clock you’re all inside getting dressed for the date. Harry had planned it all and told you to dress nice, but casual. You’re a bit confused but settle for a blue and white sun dress. You walk downstairs and see not only Harry, Sarah, and Mitch, but two other people as well.

“Y/N, I’d like you to meet Claudio and Mia. They’re going to be cooking dinner for us all tonight,” Harry says to introduce you. You shake their hands and say hello and you realize the date Harry has planned.

It’s perfect. A wonderfully cooked Italian meal here at the villa. There’s no risk of you all being spotted or overheard, and you’re free to have a true first date. If you’d all gone out, then you’d have to be careful about everything you say and do, but that’s not the case here.

The four of you make your way out to the patio and immediately open a bottle of wine, Harry filling everyone’s glasses. A few minutes later Mia brings out the first appetizer, a caprese salad that must be made with the freshest ingredients you’ve ever tasted. Next, she brings out a fig and goat cheese crostini, some of which are topped with prosciutto that makes your mouth water.

Dinner is just as delicious, homemade pasta topped with a sauce that is both decadent and light, bursting with flavor. After dinner, while you’re sharing the second bottle of wine, Claudio and Mia come out one last time. They inform you all that they are heading home, and dessert is plated in the kitchen whenever you’re ready.

You thank them profusely, telling them how much you loved everything, and Harry walks them out. He comes back and the four of you are once again alone. While dinner conversation had been quite casual, everyone learning more about each other, it starts to get a bit deeper.

“How exactly will this all work?” Harry asks.

“Well, obviously communication is the most important thing here,” Sarah replies. “Everyone needs to be honest and open about anything they’re feeling. If we hide things from each other that will create problems.”

“And what about publicly? We can’t really go and tell the fans all four of us are together.”

Mitch answers this time saying, “No but we could just say that you and Y/N are together. She’s been seen enough with us, people probably have assumed by now she’s our friend. You’d say we introduced the two of you and you hit it off. And because she’s our friend it would make sense for all of us to be seen together.”

“Lots of double dates in our future,” Sarah says with a wink.

Harry turns to you and asks, “Are you okay with that? Dating me publicly?”

“I am. I know that it’ll probably come with some pushback from fans and things like that, but I really think this could work. And we’ll all be happy.” Harry leans in, pressing his lips to yours. It’s innocent enough and first, just a couple of quick pecks.

He pulls back and his eyes meet yours. There’s a moment where he watches you, his gaze intense, and the next thing you know his lips are back on you. Even though the kiss is firm, his lips feel wonderfully soft against yours as he takes control of the kiss. You feel his hand move to your thigh and you gasp, opening your mouth and allowing for his tongue to enter.

“Maybe we should head inside,” Mitch suggests. You bite back a whine as Harry pulls away, already missing the feeling of his lips. Everyone stands and heads inside to the bedroom. It honestly should feel weird, the group of you moving in near silence, but the energy is one of excited anticipation.

You pause once inside the room, unsure of what to do next. There are so many options, too many choices, and you do not want to be the one making any. You look to Mitch, who sees the hesitation from all of you, and he takes control of the situation.

“Harry and Y/N, lay next to each other,” he says. You both follow his directions as he turns to speak with Sarah. You’re only left wondering what their plan is for a moment before they also climb on the bed, Mitch straddling Harry while Sarah does the same to you.

She leans in to kiss you, her tongue sliding in immediately. She swallows the whine you let out, and all you can think of is her. It’s been over a month, and you’ve missed them all so much, you’ve been starving for their touches.

After a little while (truly you have no idea how long) you feel Mitch’s hand pick yours up and he places it on Harry’s thigh. A second later you feel Harry’s hand on you. It starts moving higher on your leg, sliding under your skirt. Sarah shifts only so that you can spread your legs a bit but continues to keep her lips on yours.

Harry’s hand moves again, this time to press two fingers to your clit over your underwear and you’re gasping in pleasure at this touch alone. You automatically grab his thigh and realize that your hand hasn’t moved since Mitch placed it there. You decide to follow Harry’s lead and slide it up his thigh. You and Harry let out matching moans as you finally grip Harry’s hard length over his shorts.

You feel Harry pull away for a second before he slips his fingers under your panties to touch you directly. Your eyes roll back at the feeling of being touched so intimately. Summoning confidence that you didn’t know you possess, you slide your hand under his layers of clothing. There’s a moment where you hesitate, unsure if it’s okay to touch him directly. He senses your inner debate and guides your hand to his cock, letting you know it’s absolutely okay with him.

You grip your fist around his length and pump him a few times. The noises he makes only turn you on more. Your other hand travels down to Sarah’s leg, and you move under her skirt and waste no time sliding your fingers into her underwear to rub through her folds.

She’s soaking, and you easily push two fingers inside her.

“Fuck, Y/N,” she moans before starting to leave love bites along your neck. She pulls back and looks to her side, saying, “Mitch, switch with me.”

He gives Harry one last deep kiss before pulling away from him. Sarah gently pushes your fingers out of her so she can move to Harry’s lap. “Are you clean?” she asks him as they help each other out of their clothes.

“Yes, got checked a couple weeks ago, haven’t been with anyone since.”

“Good,” she says, running her entrance above the tip of his cock. “Is this okay?” she asks him.

“Please, yes,” he practically begs, and she sinks onto him. You’re watching them so intently that you don’t notice Mitch at first. That changes the second he pulls your panties off and his hard cock grazes your sensitive clit.

He brings his hand to your entrance, pushing in one finger at a time to open you and ensure you’re ready for him. A moment later his fingers are gone and you feel his cock lining up. His eyes meet yours in a silent question and you nod your head, wrapping your legs to bring him closer to tell him that you want this, want him desperately.

He slowly pushes inside you and you let out a broken moan at the feeling of being filled for the first time in over a month. You pull Mitch’s face down to yours, having realized that you’ve barely had the chance to kiss him all weekend, and you need to remedy that immediately.

The time that follows is both blissful, and a bit confusing. Everyone’s hands are traveling over any limb they can find, kisses being pressed against any bit of bare skin.

You and Harry are the first to come, nearly simultaneously while his tongue is sliding against yours. A moment later you hear the cries that can only mean Sarah has followed the two of you. Finally, you feel Mitch’s thrusts stutter as he finishes inside you.

Everyone comes down from their high, Sarah pulling off and laying next to Harry. Mitch moves to pull out of you but you hold him close and whisper, “Not yet, please.”

“Okay, baby, I’m here,” he answers, leaning down so that you can tuck your face into his neck. After a couple minutes you release your hold on him. Sarah has already snuck out to grab a couple of damp washcloths from the bathroom and she helps everyone clean up.

You all get ready for bed, checking in that everyone is okay with what just happened. Not one of you has any complaints or uncomfortable feelings, and you fall asleep content that the four of you will work just fine together.

The rest of the week in Italy is absolutely perfect. Your group has plenty of time to spend together and your personalities fit together wonderfully. There are a few more discussions regarding the dynamics of the relationship which helps you all feel secure with one another.

During the middle of the week Harry rents out a couple of boats and you all spend the day on the water. Gemma and a few others join you and it is absolute perfection.

At one point Harry wanders to the kitchen area and a moment later Sarah follows him. While he’s been enjoying the day as much as everyone else, she can tell he’s bothered by something and is determined out figure out what it is.

They talk for a few minutes while making drinks for everyone, and after a beat of silence Sarah finally asks, “What is it Harry?”

“Not sure what you mean. I’m fine.”

“No you’re not love, something’s bothering you.”

He takes a deep breath and says, “I know there’s paparazzi watching us. And other people are here. And I guess I am used to hiding a lot of my life but this time feels different. I don’t want to hide our relationship.”

Sarah places a comforting hand on his arm and says, “I completely understand. I know it’s not ideal that we can’t all be together publicly, but if you’re ready, nothing is stopping you from being with Y/N in front of the camera. Whatever comes from that, we’ll make it work.”

Harry smiles, eased by Sarah’s words of wisdom.

They walk back to the main area where the rest of you are hanging out and Harry sits down next to you, closer than he usually would in public. He wraps his arm around your shoulders, and you give him a look. He can tell that you’re confused by the gesture, but not mad or uncomfortable.

He leans in and quietly asks, “Would it be alright if I kissed you?”

“Of course you can.”

“I mean, in front of everyone. With paps watching over there.”

“Yes Harry. That’s perfectly fine with me,” you answer with a smile.

He cups your face, pulling you close to him. He hesitates with his lips mere centimeters away and you whisper “It’s okay, Harry.” A millisecond later his lips crash against yours. He presses firmly against you, a series of chaste kisses on your mouth, nose, and forehead. When you look up you see everyone watching the two of you.

Mitch and Sarah are looking over, warm smiles on their faces. After a beat, Gemma jumps up and rushes over to give the two of you a hug. “I told mum weeks ago you two would be perfect!”

The rest of the day is absolutely wonderful. After sailing in the sun for the afternoon you all head back for dinner at a beautiful restaurant.

You, Harry, Mitch, and Sarah get to the house just after sunset. Immediately you fall into bed, not wanting to waste another moment. You explore each other’s bodies once again. Harry proves without a shadow of a doubt that he is a gentleman, checking in with you constantly as he slides into you for the first time, stretching you more than you’ve ever been before.

As you’re all catching your breath, trying to readjust the mess of covers, you can’t help but start to giggle. It’s contagious and suddenly the four of you are laughing, though no one’s entirely sure why.

You finally calm down enough to say, “I can’t believe this is my life.”

“Well, believe it baby,” Harry says. “Because we’re not going anywhere.”

“Good.” You reply, shifting everyone so that you’re laying across all three of them. With your head on Mitch’s chest, torso being held by Harry, and legs tangling with Sarah, you fall asleep.

Your last thoughts of the night are about how indescribably happy you are that you’ve found your home and have started a perfect family.

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@akkatz @pandeebearstyles @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @theekyliepage @numafarawayglxy @booberry019-blog @hillzrry @ssareidbby @gem1712 @acesofspadess @houseofdilfs @shaquille-0atmeal-1 @kissitnhekitchen @amateurduck @poguestyleskye

AN: Thank you again for reading this story! Can't wait to share more with you all!

[bibittybopittybadbxtch]

Colors

Pairing: Wonwoo x Reader

Word Count: ~ 1.1K

Warnings: None…I think

A/N: I’m on a SVT kick. So….here’s another Wonwoo fic. Love him so much. The sweetest. I hope y’all enjoy! This was so much fun to write. I also kinda wanna turn this into a series….let me know your thoughts. I love hearing from y’all. The first part is inspired by Colors by Halsey. There’s also a couple of disney quotes sprinkled in.

NOT MY GIF‼️‼️‼️‼️

P.S.

I do NOT consent to have my work posted, translated or published to any third party site or app.

XOXO, Bibi🩷

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Your last relationship had come into your life like a hurricane. He settled over you for a while, but in the end you were just another casualty. You were red and he was blue, a combination that created a beautiful lilac. Until he decided that purple just wasn't for him. He left destruction in his wake. You were left to pick up your own broken pieces, and learned how to live with the scars on your heart. For a while you were just a shell of the person you were before him. But after a year, you were stronger. You held your head higher, shoulders back, all the things your therapist taught you. You were learning how to enjoy your life on your own until you met someone new, Wonwoo.

“One date. If you still hate the idea of dating me after that, I promise I’ll leave you alone.” Wonwoo looked two seconds away from getting on his knees and begging. He had sworn he did not believe in “love at first sight” until he saw you. As cliche as it sounds the sight of you was like looking into the sun. He’d told you so himself. To which you rolled your eyes in a very ladylike fashion and walked away. Back to the moment at hand, he had been asking you out for months. You were friends and he always presented date ideas in a respectful, light hearted manner but you knew he was serious. His eyes never told a lie. Looking up into those big brown orbs it broke your heart to say no to him once again. “Wonwoo, no. I told you. I don’t wanna jeopardize our friendship.” He hadn’t seen you before. He only knew the new and improved you. You feared that opening up to him would agitate old wounds. You had lost enough people over the years and weren’t willing to lose Wonwoo too. “Come on Sunshine, you know that wouldn’t happen. We won’t let it.” Despite what you thought to be your better judgment, you said yes.

First dates were awkward. Common knowledge, basic fact, first dates felt like having chicken pox. Except this was Wonwoo, and of course it wasn’t awkward. He was still your dorky best friend. He knew you, better than you knew yourself. He took you to a drive in movie. You sat in the car and cracked jokes and threw popcorn at each other. The night ended with ice cream and Wonwoo walked you to your door. “So..am I gonna get another date?” He asked hopefully. You saw his ears tinge pink under the porch light. You pretend to think about it. Just to watch him squirm before you smile at him, “Yes, I´d actually really like that”. The smile that stretches across Wonwoo’s face is forever burned in your memory. He sweeps you into a hug, before bidding you goodnight. That night you call your best friend, you recount every moment in detail. She knows before you do that you’re falling in love.

Wonwoo picks you up the following Friday, a beautiful bouquet of daisies in his hand.”You ready Sunshine?” He asks as he takes your hand. “Well, I’d say yes but I don’t know where we are going.” He chuckles and leads you to the car before opening the door, “Do you trust me?”. “With my life,” you reply earnestly as you get in the passenger seat. Trusting him was the easiest thing you had ever done. From the moment you met him Wonwoo had been nothing but reliable. It didn’t matter if it was 2am or snowing, he found a way to be there for you. Never one to disappoint, that was Wonwoo through and through.

When the car finally comes to a stop after an hour's drive to the outskirts of the city, the sight in front of you almost makes you cry. You were at a sky lantern festival. At the beginning of your friendship, you had mentioned how you wanted to go to him. He remembered. “Wonwoo..” you begin, you don't know what you had to say. Wonwoo just looks at you and smiles warmly before getting out of the car. You're unbelievably touched. Wonwoo was by all means not an outdoors person, but the fact he held on to your words and went out of his way, brings tears to your eyes. After retrieving your lanterns the two of you find a space on the large expanse of grass. You both sit down and start decorating your respective lanterns when an idea hits you. You grab your notebook from your bag and rip out a page. Wonwoo looks over at you puzzled, “What are you doing?” “Let’s make a wish. Write your wish on the paper, when the wish comes true we tell each other.” Wonwoo agrees because how could he ever say no to you. You finish your lanterns and release them at the end of the festival, wishes tucked safely in your respective pockets. That night when Wonwoo walks you to your door, he asks you to be his girlfriend.

Two years later Wonwoo takes you back to the same field that held the lantern festival, and proposes. In the ring box, there is a small piece of paper that you recognize from a notebook that has been long forgotten. You recognize Wonwoo’s chicken scratch. “Y/N” with a small heart. “Sunshine, you were always my wish. Will you marry me?” You launch yourself at him sobbing. “So, is that a yes?” he asks cheekily. “In every language. Oui, Si, Ja, Yes.”

On the car ride home, Wonwoo sees you digging around your bag for something. “What are you looking for?” “Hold on. I know it's in here somewhere.” You bring out your wallet before unzipping it. You shuffle around for a second before pulling out a small piece of paper. “What’s that?” Wonwoo asks as he glances over before returning his attention back to the road. “My wish” you state proudly. “Oh yeah? What was your wish?” You flash him your brightest smile before unfolding it and showing him. There is your delicate handwriting. He sees his name “Wonwoo” with a smiley face. Wonwoo swears his heart is gonna explode. “You made me believe in love again. You restored my faith in humanity. You made me whole.” You tell him through your tears. Wonwoo pulls the car over and cradles your face, wiping your tears. “No, Sunshine. You did that all by yourself. I’m just here to appreciate your hard work.” He kisses you.