#i was too lazy to grab the actual image for world without me so i drew shitty apocalypse GRNSHDND

[jaggedamethyst]

not in that way (part two)

bucky barnes x fwb!reader

content: as both of your best friends, steve tries to get you and bucky to bond

warnings: 18+ minors dni, smut in an elevator, fingering (r!receiving), discreet, mutual pining, angst, not proofread I'm lazy and tired

notes: thank you guys for the response to the first part...what the fuck?? everything i write for bucky goes insane and i didn't think people wanted more but i got too many messages not to keep writing for him.

ps: wanted to post this tonight… so it may not be seamless, but i will edit when im fully awake bc im half asleep rn

series master list

。·:*:·ﾟ★,。·:*:·ﾟ☆　 。·:*:·ﾟ★,。·:*:·ﾟ☆

The next time you saw Bucky was the following day. He was seated next to Steve as the pair of them lounged in the grass at a park near your house. Steve and you came here a lot—him making a reason to escape Avengers duty and you simply living within walking distance. 

“Hi.” You offered an awkward wave to the men, sitting down on the throw blanket they’d laid in the grass. 

While Steve greeted you, Bucky hardly acknowledged your presence, averting his eyes to watch his friend next to him. Steve dug into a bag beside him and pulled out a few small notebooks. One of them was noticeably more worn; you recognized it as his own sketchbook. 

In his free time since being off ice, Steve found solace in drawing the world around him. Between each image would linger small lists of to-dos, figures of speech he had to know, and bucket list items he hoped to complete one day. He was almost finished with this one, keeping it on him to use at his leisure. He wanted to offer the experience to you both as well, his best friends. 

“I got you these,” Steve passed you and Bucky each a book. “I also have some of my favorite pencils here.” He grabbed a handful and let them fall in front of you. “Whenever I’m feeling...overwhelmed or anxious, I just,” he exhaled a deep breath, “I just put something in here. It helps.” 

You and Bucky watched him intently, nodding at his explanation. 

He continued, “We don’t have to talk—you guys don’t have to…but maybe we could just do this together?” 

“I’d like that.” You spoke first, grabbing a few of the pencils and an eraser. 

“Me too.” 

Bucky spoke. It was low and filled with apprehension, like he was testing the waters of what it was like to use his own voice. You whipped your head to him at the sound, arching your brow as his covered hands reached for a book and pencil. He sat for a while, though, just looking between you and Steve without putting anything down. 

As time passed, you chuckled at your paper a bit, drawing a rough picture of Steve���s concentrated face. He was quite fond of birds, you realized, and he would often draw them. Their presence was fleeting, and he loved that challenge, the idea that one moment they could be here and the next gone. It was similar to life in that way, how the people he loved most would be with him and then not. 

The greatest joys of his life were when a bird would return, perched on the ground in front of him. He found that his life, in particular, was like that. Just when he thought Bucky was really gone, he came back. He was able to finish his drawing now, and you were an amazing addition to the artwork. 

“So,” Steve clasped his hands together, “Who wants to show theirs off?” 

You perked up and excitedly flipped yours with a laugh, pointing to Steve’s upturned face in the sketch. 

He immediately laughed and snatched your book, eyeing the scratch before looking up at you. “No way we sat here for an hour and you drew me in your book.” 

“Believe it,” you shrugged, “I’m an artist.” 

Steve scoffed playfully before tossing the book back to you with a light underhand throw. “What about you, Buck?” 

He’d been into it by then. You weren’t sure when he started to actually draw, but he wouldn’t look away. His brows were pinched, and he pulled at the inner skin of his cheek in concentration. You and Steve exchanged a look when he didn’t reply. 

Steve outstretched a hand toward the book, “Bucky-“ The harsh movement of Bucky pulling his work back toward his chest cut Steve off—he held his hands up in a surrender. “Sorry, buddy. You okay?” 

“I’m good just…got kind of invested.” 

You nodded, observing the way Bucky still clutched the book. “It’s really relaxing Steve. This was a great idea. Right, Bucky?” 

“Right.” He looked between you and Steve before closing the small book and tucking it into his jacket’s inner pocket. He moved to stand suddenly backing toward the road, “I’ll be in the car when you guys are done.” 

He was always like this, pushed people away.

Steve looked to you when Bucky was out of earshot. “Did I say something?” The look on his face was one of pure confusion and concern. 

“Maybe we shouldn’t push it. At least he actually put pencil to paper, you know?”

“You’re right—this is sort of a milestone if you think about it.” 

“I agree, big step for him.” 

On the way back to the tower you let your mind be on Bucky again—the way he so quickly let the good moments be pushed away by whatever small thing bothered him. 

There wasn’t much talking as the group of you got into the elevator, save for Steve making a last-ditch effort to get you and Bucky to talk again. 

“I have a few things to do, but feel free to wait around, and we can hang out again later.” He stood facing the elevator's closed doors with the stoicism he always had. 

Neither you nor Bucky spoke as Steve stepped out of the elevator—his words seeming like an order rather than a random comment. He had that authoritative way about him.

A few seconds after, the doors shut and allowed the cart to spring into action. It made you wobble a bit, the startling movement making you both off-balance briefly. 

When he regained his composure, Bucky finally spoke, glancing over at you. “Today was a good day.” His voice was filled with unease, not having had a moment alone with you since the day prior. 

You nodded. “It was. I had fun.” It was fine, entertaining the small talk. “You have fun?” 

He looked over to you as the tension he’d been holding slowly dissipated—you had that effect on him. Bucky was instead filled with nerves as your eyes rested on him. His lips parted to speak in response, but he couldn’t. Not when you were looking at him so fondly, actually interested in whether or not he enjoyed himself. 

All he could muster was a tight nod, assuring you that he had enjoyed himself, before looking ahead to the elevator doors. Then they jolted again, this time stopping abruptly at the pull of the emergency stop button. 

He looked over at you again but this time in confusion, concern even. “What are you doing?” 

“Why are you being weird?” You tucked yourself into the corner, covering the button so he couldn’t try to leave. You knew, of course, that had he tried he'd be out of here faster than you could even process. But the fact that he hadn’t moved an inch said enough to you. 

“I’m not. I’m being normal-“ 

“Normal for you isn’t…whatever this is.” You looked him up and down, “You’re more—more reserved, methodical. You’re not a jittery person, Bucky.” 

He let out an amused scoff. “I’m only jittery because we’re stuck in an elevator. I'm claustrophobic.” 

“You could get out and you know that.” You crossed your arms, “You just don’t want to.” 

“That’s not it-“ 

“Bucky?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Move me.” You stepped off the wall and inched closer to him. “Move me out the way and press the button.” 

He swallowed but didn’t move—like you expected. Suddenly, you broke the eye contact. He watched you turn and push the red knob back into place. 

As the metal box started to move again you scoffed at him, purposely avoiding eye contact. His breathing sped up, suddenly enticed to prove you so extremely right. 

“Fuck it,” he grabbed your hip with a single had a let his lips fall onto yours. He’d simultaneously pulled the button with a free hand, distracting you by how eagerly he’d started kissing you. 

The startling jolt of the elevator and Bucky combined sent you back into the side wall, colliding with the long bar with a hiss. Bucky didn’t stop, swallowing the sound with his own mouth on yours. He was needy, pressing his tongue into and through your lips. He’d waited so long for this, and it was absolutely worth it. 

You were completely insatiable. You let Bucky use you, a fondness for the feeling now. The both of you moaned into each other, carelessly wrapping yourselves in one another. You snaked your hands up to his face, pulling him in impossibly closer. You could feel his stubble on your face, suddenly smiling at the burn you’d have between your thighs with him settled there. He felt your smirk and pulled away to look at you. 

Buck smirked, too. You were in a daze, swaying on your feet as your eyes pulled back into focus. 

He watched you leaned into the wall, lowering his head. The layered top of his hair fell over, covering your view of his beautiful face. He stayed looking down but spoke in a low tone, “Take off your pants.” 

“Make. Me.” You smiled, repeating yourself slowly. 

He made a show of lifting his head and letting his hair settle back into place. He was in that damn jacket again, always was. You stayed watching him, tilting your head in amusement as he shrugged it off and let it fall to the floor. Even slower, he took off his gloves. You’d never even actually seen both his hands, only hearing of the metal arm that rested beneath his clothing. 

He let his hand flex in front of you, gulping at how quickly he’d decided to show you this part of himself. Bucky didn’t think twice, actually, completely motivated by the opportunity to be close to you. He kept eye contact, hands on his hips and moving forward until your chests met. 

“I have no problem taking matters into my own hands.” With that he simply moved a hand to your pants button. You could tell he was proud, bobbing his head lightly at the way he could so easily strip you without even looking away from your face. You cracked a smile at the way he slid your clothes off, leaving you bare on the bottom. He let you slip your shoes off too, still chest to chest. 

He kept looking at you, spreading your legs with his thigh. He ignored the way you were dripping, sliding one of your legs up onto his waist. He kept his grip there, firmly holding you. 

“Don’t move, I got you.” 

He slipped two fingers into you slowly, pumping in and out at a torturous pace that immediately had your jaw dropping. The sight of you unraveling was amazing and he kept his eyes locked with yours until they fluttered shut. 

You felt helpless, completely entranced by his fingers rubbing your walls. Your breaths came out ragged, “We just—we don’t tell him okay?” You shook your head, eyes opening slightly at Bucky. 

“Mhm, yeah…no Steve.” Bucky looked at you, eyebrows pinched and whimpering. “It’s nothing-“

“Right.” You moaned between each word now, bouncing with his harsh movement. “Nothing.” 

He kept going, speeding up at the squelching sounds that were now like music to his ears. He could tell you were struggling, teetering on the edge every few seconds but not quite exploding. The continuous heat made it feel like you could pop at any moment. It was too good. He was too good. It felt cliche to let this overtake what was blossoming for you both—the transition from acquaintance to friend. 

But you couldn’t help it. 

You’d been holding onto the bar on the wall, but the position was a lot. As he pressed into you over and over, you started to lose balance, hardly standing on the toes of one foot. He kept going even as you shook. He felt your body sliding, hardly keeping yourself up anymore. Your hand fell to the side and accidentally highlighted over a cluster of the floor buttons, illuminating them in an irregular pattern. 

Bucky chuckled but quickly readjusted without missing a beat. He nudged your body into his arm more, completely holding you up with ease now. You felt like a ragdoll, and it reminded you so quickly of the sheer strength of the man that was in you now. You could tell with his hand jacking into you regardless, the flesh of him flexing into you so tastefully. 

He suddenly stopped, slipping out of you as you gripped his neck for more leverage. He again moved you with ease, putting you into his right arm now. His head tilted, ready to see your reaction to his metal hand filling you. 

You gasped at the cooled tips of his fingers teasing your hole, just barely entering before he pulled back out. He could tell you were sensitive now and savored it, only letting you feel him when you calmed down from his slow pumps before. 

He let you whine like this for a bit longer before adding a finger, surprising you with three fingers ramming into you. He was completely soulless about it now, mouth agape at the way your body reacted. He knew you were close and urged you on. 

“Doing so good.” He nodded. “You gonna come soon?” His tone was almost mocking, your condition evident. Suddenly, you snapped, head falling into his neck. 

“Yes, yes, yes…” You couldn’t help but repeat to yourself, whispering through the writhes into his palm. 

Your hips rolled, and he met you with a soft kiss into your temple. You slowed, then, coming down from the intensity of the ordeal.

You breathed into him without a word, smirking at the man in from of you. Bucky let you down, grabbing your pants for you and sliding them onto your now wobbling legs. He nudged your shoes with his feet before kneeling down and sliding them on, patting your leg when he was done. You were in another world, only slipping back to him at the sound of the elevator returning to motion.

You let out a laugh at the elevator slowly stopping on a random assortment of floors. At a higher one, Bucky finally stepped off, turning back to look at you for a second. You hadn’t expected anything more; he was often wordless, and he proved you right the night before…when he left so carelessly. 

“You coming?” 

With a ding, the elevator doors slowly moved to close. Through them, you watched Bucky, standing and looking at you expectedly. “Just did, actually.” 

He choked at that but jerked forward, putting a hand between to doors to stop them. “So, is that a yes?” He tilted his head back, “Maybe watch a movie or something?” 

You intended to head home at first, not expecting him to extend this hand. This wasn’t like him—his usual closed-off self. Admittedly, you enjoyed this better. He now had a willingness that never was there before. It was jarring—the way he seemed to do a 180 from last night. 

You reasoned that maybe you could enjoy yourself and finally be the friend Steve needed you to be—to love his friend the way he did so many years ago. For Bucky, it was grasping at straws; he wanted to keep you around in any way he could. He would never be Steve—could never be the image of a perfect man that you deserved. 

We’re better as friends. 

He repeated the mantra in his mind, affirming himself despite part of him saying otherwise. He could stand to be this with you, friends with something more every once in a while. Hell, every day if you let him. He settled so you wouldn’t have to. You didn’t deserve someone like him, an undeniable shroud of darkness that clouded over your blinding light. 

“You know what, why the hell not?” You stepped off the elevator cart and brushed by the man. “I get to pick the movie though.” 

“‘Course, doll.” 

part three

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[krikidilly]

Slaps him so hard he goes flying and splats against the wall like a looney tune

[keisurou]

build it up

(ft. koutarou bokuto)

minors dni. 

wc: 3.2k

Warnings: semi-public sex (in the locker room?), doggy style, mirror sex, mutual masturbation, blowjob, atsumu x kiyoomi ship, atsumu being a lil’ shit and drilling ideas into bo’s head, not edited. 

So my friends and I were fangirling discussing and apparently personality-wise, I’m basically a mix of Akaashi and Kenma, and it kinda makes sense because my top two comfort characters are Kuroo and Bokuto. Anyways, this is just a lil’ thing I wanted to try out, and again, this is not edited (i did edit it, and then my laptop just DIED so now its all gone. *sobs*) - does anyone want to be a beta-reader?? Because I literally went on a road trip with my family and just typed this in the car the entire time while my brothers screamed nonsense bs next to me. Hmu if you’re actually interested :) 

“Babe,” Bokuto murmurs into your neck, drawing out the word, his hair still damp and smoothed down from his shower not too long ago. You’re trying to focus on the pile of research assignments in front of you, but the way your fiance is rubbing circles on your back has you rereading the same sentence multiple times. “I heard something I wanna try,” 

“Hmm?” You hum noncommittally, encouraging him to continue, but you don’t look away from the papers. He frowns, frustration clawing at his belly and lets out a small grunt as he paws at your thighs exposed by your silk pyjamas. When he doesn’t speak, you turn to him and run your fingers through his damp locks before ruffling them slightly. “What’s wrong? Aren’t you tired? You have practice tomorrow morning, don’t you?” 

He doesn’t respond, his gaze locked on your lips and the way your tongue peeks out ever so slightly to wet your bottom lip only for a second. Bokuto has been strung tight lately; he had just returned from a training camp after being away from you for an entire week. He had been so excited to come home to you; he missed your smiles, your soft agreements, the way you came apart and lost yourself under his touch. But instead, he came home to you fully decked out in your ‘no sex’ gear. That’s right, from the ten piles of papers you had to mark, and a brand new box of red felt tips, you were ready for five days of no sleep, no fun, and absolutely nothing frisky with Bokuto. Needless to say, he almost cried when he first stepped into the apartment. 

But now, with only ten research papers left, you were practically finished. “Babe, let’s cuddle tonight,” You give him a look, and he deflates only a little before quickly adding, “I’ll be good, I swear,” 

“Kou-kun,” you lean in and give him a soft peck on the cheek, and he’s so touch starved that he sits motionless, absorbing the way your lips brush against his skin for as long as he can. “You’re always good.” You move away, and he quickly grabs your hands, intertwining your fingers together. “But if I finish up here today, I won’t be able to see you play tomorrow,” 

He’s silent as he contemplates this and then promptly hooks a hand around your waist and pulls you to him. His lips slant over yours, and it only takes you a second to melt into the kiss, hands flying to the hem of his t-shirt to drag him closer. Your lips are warm, and he can taste the sweetness of cherries from the dizzying brush of your tongue. He leans back against the sofa, and you clamber onto his lap, your softness meeting the hard planes of his body as you kiss along the smooth column of his neck. There is nothing sexier than the way you press a kiss before nibbling along his jaw, and his hands automatically find their way under your sleep shirt to squeeze at a naked breast. 

You let out a strangled moan and immediately press your body to his chest, halting his movements. Bokuto’s eyes widen as he tentatively brushes a thumb on the underside of your breast, only for you to shudder. “Koutarou, wait,” you pant softly, grabbing at his arm to pull it from your chest. “I’m really sensitive today, and it hurts if you squeeze too roughly,” 

“Why?”

“I’m on my period,” you say simply, and he blurts out the first thing that pops into his head. 

“So, no sex?” 

You shake your head, and his erection throbs painfully in his shorts as it strains against the material, somehow understanding the situation but not exactly cooperating. You get up to clear the table, and when you stretch, he can clearly see the way your nipples poke through the flimsy fabric, almost as if begging for his attention. He’s up, wrapping his arms around your waist and breathing in the scent of your hair. “Can I massage them?” 

You pause, and when you don’t respond for a few seconds, he cups one breast through the shirt, palming it softly until you melt under his touch. “O-Okay, but no sex,” 

He murmurs out a thank you, his golden eyes sparkling, and he’s glad you don’t question his enthusiasm. Once in the shared bedroom, he strips your shirt off your body watches with hooded eyes as you crawl over to join him at the centre of the bed. 

His fingers brush against a peaked nipple before slowly pushing down on the nub, and you let out a soft whine before cupping your other breast yourself, rotating the flesh in small circles. 

Bokuto briefly wonders how long it could take to make you cum just from your tits, and he turns it into a personal mission for tonight. He pulls at the free nipple, and you gasp sharply. Your reaction brings a lazy grin on his face, and he brings you to sit on top of him, the outline of his erection pressing against your ass so he can feel at least some sort of friction. He swats your hand away and pulls a nipple into the heat of his mouth, suckling the flesh softly as your thighs tremble around his waist. The first contact of his teeth against your sensitive nipple has your breath hitching deliciously as you chant his name, and he does it again, wanting to commit the sound to memory. 

“K-Koutarou, please. I’m going to-”

He switches to the other breast and bites down on the nipple without warning. Your hands fly to the back of his head, pushing him closer to your chest as he soothes the abused skin with long strokes of his tongue. The way you pull at his hair sends sharp jolts of pain, and you realise that each time you tug at his locks, he puts his teeth to work. 

You tug at his hair again, and he smiles as he bites down for a second. He takes satisfaction in the way you tremble and grind against him when he tugs at a hardened bud with his fingers, twisting and rolling the nub until it borders on pain and pleasure. He’s going to make you come like this even if he doesn’t get any sleep.  

Minutes later, you tremble, your hands feebly pushing at Bokuto, and he leans back only slightly. He watches with wide eyes as you roll your hips, the movements unstable and shaky, almost frenzied. Your fingers squeeze at a breast and pull at the tip of the other, and you let out a breathy moan at the sharp streak of pain that quickly turns into pleasure. “K-Kou-kun. I’m s-so close. So close.” You whine out in both pleasure and frustration and reach for his hands so he can help you finish the job. “Please,” 

You don’t notice the way Bokuto’s erection grows bigger from under you. He loves it when you beg for him like this, eyes glazed with lust without a care in the world except for how quickly you’ll come. It’s so intoxicating, and you look so desperate that he can’t help but want to tease you until you’re ruined.  But tonight, there was no way; you wouldn’t be getting any help from him until he gets off on the image of you sobbing for his fingers and his tongue. 

He watches as your eyes widen when you see him take out his cock and grip himself at the base. The tip is red and weeping, and when he smears the fluid all over the head, he’s delighted to see the way you lick your lips and lean forward, entranced. “What is it, puppy?” He purrs and grips himself at the base before moving up to the tip and coming back down again. The way your eyes follow the movement is incredibly sexy, but it’s the tremble in your lower lip that has him growing harder. “F-Fuck. Shit, you want my cock? I thought you said no sex.” 

There’s a whine of frustration, and at this point, he can’t tell if it’s from you or him, but the way you rub your thighs together and tug at your nipples has him lifting his hips, craving the friction he can’t have. There are now tears in your eyes as you sniffle.  For a fleeting moment, Bokuto considers sliding your underwear to the side; your period be damned, and fucking you into the mattress until the bedsheet is soaked with your tears. His cock twitches in agreement at the mental image, and a shudder goes down his spine. 

Instead, he gives himself a few more rough strokes and closes his eyes, listening to your moans echo in the room before he groans, loud and low, as his release lands messily on the bedsheets. 

Bokuto is restless at practice the morning after, and everyone knows this because his performance was downright terrible. On the rare occasions when he did score a point, there was no hey, hey, hey, no burst of confidence, no nothing. 

There had been days on end where the team would have done anything short of murder to shut Bokuto up, but now that he had, they had no idea what to do. Well, except Atsumu, of course. The setter sauntered over, his lips stretched into a cocky smirk. “Bokkun, what are ya mopin’ about for? Did yer girlfriend leave ya all needy?”

Bokuto grumbled sourly at the blonde before promptly turning away. “I’m not moping.” And when Atsumu raises an eyebrow, encouraging him to continue, Bokuto only sighs and leans back on his elbows. Surprisingly, that’s all the setter needs to understand the situation and begins to laugh. 

The entire situation is infuriatingly unfair, especially since it was, in fact, Atsumu who had drilled in the idea of having sex in semi-public places. Bokuto usually didn’t care to listen to the gossip of others much, unless it was related to volleyball or you. During the training camp, the blond setter had been describing how hot it was to do it in a semi-public place where there was a high chance of getting caught, much to Kiyoomi’s chagrin. Bokuto genuinely cannot bring himself to care because obviously sex feels good all the time, so why would doing it outside make it any different? Atsumu had just tutted when Bokuto explained this to him before asking him about you, and that definitely got his attention. 

“Bokkun, do ya know what kinks yer girlfriend has?” 

“She doesn’t have any,” Bokuto’s response had been immediate, and Atsumu just stared, wondering if the hyperactive male was just pulling his leg. But he wasn’t - Bokuto genuinely knew you didn’t have any because of course you would tell him as soon as you discovered one, right? 

“She seriously never told ya?” 

“Maybe she just doesn’t know.” 

Atsumu had spluttered indignantly to his excuse, equal parts horrified and insulted that Bokuto could even think about suggesting such a thing. 

Needless to say, ever since then, Bokuto has been trying to find out more of the things that make you tick in bed. He’d already found two last night, and his body was already tense, eager to find out more today. Especially since you said you’d be visiting after handing back all the papers to your students. They all wrapped up practice, with Meian giving Bokuto extra laps around the gym. By the time he had finished the required amount, Hinata and Meian were about to leave but had stopped to greet you for a few minutes. The sight of you leaning against the door, your lips pulled up into a soft smile filled him with restless energy and he took a swig of his water before making his way to you. 

“Hey, hey, hey!” His voice booms, echoing off the walls and you swivel around to grin at him. There is a collective sigh of relief from the other members as they leave the court gym and he sees the way your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He practically sprints to you and pulls you into a bear hug. He knows he’s sweating and that he probably stinks, but that all takes a back seat as your arms come around to wrap around his waist as you breathe in the feel of him. “Are you feeling better?”

You nod and lean up, puckering your lips to give him a short kiss, and his heart squeezes before he leans down to meet your lips halfway. When you pull back, your face is flushed, and you lean forward to whisper in his ear. “I’m sorry about last night. I’m all better today, we can go wherever you want and do whatever you feel like,”

His golden eyes glint dangerously under the low lighting of the hall, and you immediately know that you’re in trouble. “Now?”

He can see the way your breath hitches and throat constricts as you let out a little whimper. Your voice reaches a higher octave as you whisper out a “Now?” and he suddenly wishes that he could drag you to the locker room in front of everyone. He realises with a start that Atsumu had been right all along and expects the fact to rub him the wrong way, but the thought is pushed to the back as you let out a timid nod. 

That’s all he needs. He drags you into the locker room, too impatient to bother with the intricacies of the lock. Everyone had gone home anyway, so what did it even matter? As soon as he sits down, you push his thighs apart and situation yourself between them. Your hands fly to the hem of his gym shorts as you gaze up at him, and the whisper of friction that your fingers provide already has his cock swelling in his boxers. 

The first contact your tongue made with his cock has him hardening even further as he sinks his fingers into your hair. He can’t take his eyes off the way your hot tongue glides up the curve of his dick before swirling around the tip and- 

“Fuck. Fuck. Wait, baby-Don’t-”

You take him into your mouth, one hand softly massaging his balls, and all the protests die in his throat almost instantly. He chokes at the sight of you on your knees and your pretty, pretty mouth stretched around his fat cock. There are tears forming at the corner of your eyes as you struggle to take him in any further, and there’s nothing in the word that could make him look away. He thrusts his hips up only slightly, taking you off guard and forcing more of his length into your mouth as you gag around his size. 

You make a sound at the back of your throat as you drool around his cock, and it sends waves of vibrations throughout his length. Bokuto eases out of your mouth, and the stark coldness that hits the sensitive skin has him hardening even further. “You did so good, puppy,” he pants out his praise and comes up behind you before he pushes you forward so that you’re on your hands and knees. You’re such a pretty sight that he has to stop himself from entering you straight away. “Are you comfortable, babe? Think you can take it like this?” 

You nod vigorously and hold his gaze through the mirror. The head of his cock is leaking and angry, and he’s half tempted to bury himself balls deep inside you without warning. But the moment he pushes the tip inside your wet heat, you arch your back, and his hips jerked forward, craving the way your slick walls spammed around his length. 

“S-Shit—” Bokuto grits out, relishing the way the unmistakable sound of your arousal squelching around his cock echoes in the locker room. “God, you’re so fucking messy- baby, I can’t—” his words end on a whine and tries to push himself further inside you, his hands going to grip your hair to wrap it around his fingers. 

There’s a low guttural moan from you, and when he looks up, his gut clenches at the sight of your thoroughly fucked face. He wants to commit it all to memory - the way your tongue lolls out while your eyes roll to the back of your head as you cry out for him because he’s the only one who can make you feel like this. He pulls at your hair slightly and immediately feels you clench around him. 

He does it again, harder. 

Your whimpers thunder in his ears, and he leans forward until he has you completely underneath him, chest grazing the back of your shoulders as he braces his entire weight on his arm. His tongue and teeth are relentless on the flushed tips of your ear, laving the sensitive skin before nipping it harshly as he thrusts into you. “You’re such a pretty puppy, aren’t you? Fucked dumb and drooling on my cock,”

You sob at this, your words slurring. “K-Kou, s’close—” His thrusts become short and fast, reaching deeper as your walls dragging along his cock deliciously. The way you’re needy heat is sucking him in leaves him breathless, his hips stuttering with effort as he struggles to go faster and faster and— 

Your walls flutter around his girth, clenching down and squeezing so tightly that he can’t help but arch his back, hands gripping your hips to bring you closer, the curve of your ass flush against his abs. He ruts into you harshly, trying to fuck you through your orgasm, and it’s the loud slapping of skin on skin that mixes perfectly with your lewd keens that have his dick spasming and finally sends him over the edge. 

For a moment, all he can hear are the heavy breathing as you both try to catch your breaths, skin slick and glistening with sweat, but then his ears perk up at the telltale whisper of footsteps shuffling. Somewhere, right outside the door, a broomstick topples over something, and he swears he can hear the hushed bickering of Atsumu and Kiyoomi. 

Thank you for reading :) 

Taglist: @lukehemmingsfan101​ @the-actual-audrey @Dontmindme:) @potaytopothato @jadasz @momoraen​ (those in bold could not be tagged). 

Click here for my taglist. If you would like to stop being on my taglist, please just send me a message. 

[animereaderinsertwriter]

Cupbearer (Eren/Reader)

Part I

Part II

Part III

Part IV (in progress)

Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT (im watching you, if you see this, begone!), vampire!eren, hunter!reader, fem!reader, smut, some amount of predator/prey dynamics but only kinda?? there is also a significant age difference but only cos eren is immortal and all that jazz. we're all adults here. there will eventually be smut.... and do i really need to say that there's gonna be blood in a vampire fic?

Description: A story of falling in love in 4 parts.

Eren is a bad man (well, a bad Creature) who has done bad things. When he meets the great-great-great granddaughter of one of his former friends in his favorite blood bar, however, he thinks it might not matter so much what happened in the past, so long as he can make the future something worth living to see.

Ao3 link here

Part I

A lamb in a den of lions, he thought, watching the newcomer as she settled in, ordering whiskey neat. A fool, for sure.

A fool she may be, perhaps, but even fools could be dangerous. Eren had known that the young woman was a Hunter from the moment she entered the bar (everyone else had, too) but something told Eren that she was hardly cut from the same cloth as the average Bane of Creatures. There was something in her movements— a predatory grace in her stride, perhaps, or a stiff, straight posture, with muscles tensed and ready for action— that betrayed her power to him; but for all that, she really was lovely, and the image of a rabbit caught in a patch of bramble came to mind whenever he looked at her.

Sitting in a corner, drinking his B-neg, he watched the woman as she sipped her drink, checking over her shoulder now and then. She was wary— as anyone with good sense would be— but she didn't appear frightened, and Eren's curiosity was piqued. It wasn't every day that someone so bold happened across his path, and it became harder and harder for him to resist the urge to approach her.

Eventually, Eren gave in to his curiosity— he never had been very good at or even particularly fond of restraining himself— and when he came silently up behind her, the newcomer didn't even notice his presence until he murmured a greeting close to her ear.

"Hello, little love," he said, and she startled in her seat. "Are you lost?"

She turned around then, her eyes big and bright in the dim lighting of the bar, but by the time she managed to look at the spot where Eren would have been, he was already seated on the barstool beside her. Eventually, though, her eyes found his, and when their gazes met, Eren was amused to find no fear in her visage.

"Far from it," she told him, turning her body towards him. "I am precisely where I mean to be."

Eren blinked, nonplussed.

"Curious," he said, leaning forward so that she could see the sharpness of his teeth as he spoke. "Do you fancy yourself a wolf among sheep, little Hunter? Did you really not think we would know you for what you are the moment you crossed the threshold of this place?"

Any normal, human ear would have missed the way her heart leapt in her chest, but Eren missed nothing. The fear he had hoped to inspire in her was present after all, but her face never moved from its impenetrable mask— an affectation that was somehow both soft and steely at once.

"That's not what I'm here for," she told him, widening the distance between her knees as she readjusted on the stool. "I'm here to discover the truth."

The truth— what an odd notion!— and yet Eren sensed no lie in her.

"You're a strange one," he told her, but forced himself to relax his posture to appear lazy, almost drunk. "Most Hunters— even ones so pretty as yourself— shoot first and worry about the truth later. What's your name?"

Her nose crinkled. "It's polite to give your own first."

Sharp, he thought, watching her closely. Names have power.

"Eren Jaeger."

"Eren Jaeger," she echoed, then extended her hand. "My name is (Y/N)."

That name sounded familiar to Eren— and though most names did after living a few centuries, this one seemed to hit closer to home. He knew that name, and knew it well…

"What's your surname?"

(Y/N)'s eyes flashed with an emotion that Eren didn't catch.

"Kirschtein," she replied, averting her eyes. "I'm Jean Kirschtein's great-great-great granddaughter."

And damn if Eren didn't want to laugh. Perhaps his nosiness into the posterity of his old acquaintances really was as bad of an idea as Armin always seemed to imply.

"I see," he said, and he truly, truly did. "Then you know who I am— what I am— and what I've done."

More than that, if she truly did know who he was, it was unlikely that she had come without a specific purpose in mind.

(Y/N) nodded, confirming his suspicions. "I was digging around in my family history and— well— I read what my grandfather wrote, and I just— I wanted the truth."

So wide-eyed, so innocent— so alive. Eren could see now her resemblance to Jean; if they were not similar in looks, she had his sharpness, his humanness… and, as he always had Jean, Eren envied her for it.

"If that's the case, then I'm sure you know that you don't get something for nothing," he told her, sipping his drink just to watch the expression on her face as he let the warm blood slide down his throat. "And that dealings with me can be dangerous."

"Jean Kirschtein loved you, Eren Jaeger," she told him fiercely and with such conviction that Eren nearly choked on his drink. "To take such a tone with me, to threaten me, the last living remnant of him, is the most disrespectful thing I've ever heard."

Eren was about to say that he didn't owe her, Jean Kirschtein, or anyone else any sort of respect, but she plowed on, unwilling to let him say his piece.

"You broke his heart a million ways by doing what you did, but— but he was your friend through all of it, no matter what side each of you were on," (Y/N) continued, passion aflame in her eyes. "I can't even imagine what inspired such a love, such a loyalty from him that he would forgive you for the horrors you caused. That's what I'm here to find out— what you have that a man such as him would find you redeemable."

The reproof in her words stung, but Eren was too old to argue. She could never understand what it was like back then.

"I understand more than you think," she snapped, and Eren actually flinched. "I understand that you hurt the woman my grandfather loved immeasurably, and that he forgave you for that even though he never even particularly liked you. I understand that you were ready to sacrifice the world for that selfsame woman, for Jean, and for all the others. I understand that you're a monster who loved and was loved back, but I want to know why."

How? Eren thought, shaken.

How had she known his thoughts? It was as though she had seen straight through to his innermost being.

Without speaking, she answered his question. (Y/N) took a hand and rolled up her left sleeve, presenting to him a scarred marking in the shape of a pentagram.

"My grandfather didn't settle down with just anyone," she told him, holding his gaze. "I come from a line of powerful witches, all of whom possessed strong claircognizance. Paired with my nature as an empath, you can assume I know what you're going to say before you say it."

Eren hummed, trying to appear less perturbed than he was.

"And yet you hunt Creatures for a living; strange, since you're practically one of us yourself."

(Y/N) glowered. "I hunt monsters that prey on my people, not Creatures. No innocent has died by my hand."

The unlike you went unsaid, but that didn't mean that Eren didn't hear it anyway.

"Don't get high-and-mighty with me, girl," he told her roughly. "Knowing is one thing, but experiencing what we experienced is another."

"I'm not here to judge you," she replied. "I told you, I'm here for truth, nothing more."

"And I told you that the truth doesn't come for free," he told her darkly. "You must give me something in return."

(Y/N) set her jaw.

"What would you have of me?"

It was a mean, base request. Eren was wicked for even thinking it, and vile for wanting it— but looking at the great-to-however-many-degrees granddaughter of a good man that he had once known, seeing the vitality that brought a flush to her cheeks and thumping to her heart, he knew he couldn't pass up this golden opportunity.

It had been so long since he'd had a Companion.

"Become my cupbearer for six moons," he told her, crossing his arms. "Starting with tonight, the moon becomes new; let me drink from you until six of these have passed, and along the way, you will learn what you want to know."

(Y/N) eyed him warily.

"Can you assure my physical safety?"

Eren grunted, almost amused. It was a bit late to be worrying about that.

"I think you know that I can."

"And will you let me continue in my duties as a Hunter?" she asked, her eyes searching his own as if she would find the answer to her question there inside the same eyes he'd had since he was nineteen. "Completely uninhibited?"

"That depends. Will you kill Creatures in the discharge of your duties?"

(Y/N) made a face. Eren had forgotten how expressive mortals could be, but he found that being reminded was not altogether unpleasant.

"You know I will," she replied, "But you have my word that any killing won't be unprovoked."

Eren supposed it was as close to a compromise as he could expect.

"As you wish it, so shall it be."

He turned away, signaling to the bartender for another drink, but a lightning-fast hand shot out to grab his wrist.

"Swear it," she demanded. "I need us to be Bound by it."

The meanness in Eren finally won over. He reached forward, grabbing (Y/N) by the neck, and the silver rings on her fingers burned him as she pulled at his hand to try and restore her breath. Eyes from all around the room were on the two of them— had been, since the very beginning— but it was only once the Hunter before him began to look appropriately humbled that he withdrew.

"Do not touch me without my permission," he said, "And I will return the favor."

(Y/N) looked at him then, but there was still no fear in her eyes. Anger, yes, but no fear.

She must be mad, or foolish one, he thought, considering her for a moment. I always have been partial to mad fools in general, but…

Something about her seemed different, and Eren didn't know what to do other than accept what she had to offer. Heavens knew he was getting the better end of the deal anyway.

"Swear it," she repeated, this time more quietly. "Give your word, and I will be your cupbearer."

Eren brought his hand up and unbuttoned the top three buttons of his shirt. At his will, the nail tip of his forefinger sharpened, hardening into a point; he used it to draw an 'X' onto the skin just over where his heart rested inside his chest, cold and dead. Blood welled into the cut— precious little, compared to that of a human, but still enough to run down his chest in smudges— and it was by that blood that he swore. He spoke the terms of their agreement, then took the blood from his wound with the pad of his finger and marked the same spot over (Y/N)'s own heart.

"Satisfied?" he asked, their faces almost touching, and (Y/N) shivered.

"Yes."

Her warm, living breath fanned over his face with her reply, and Eren took the moment to close his eyes and appreciate the scent and sensation of it.

"You may think you're satisfied," he told her, pulling away, "But you don't know the meaning of the word."

She eyed him warily, but before she could speak, he added, "In six months' time, I'll ask you the same question, and it is then that you will truly know what it is to feel satisfied— satiated in every way."

"As you say."

It was a throwaway comment, nothing more than a dismissal, really; but Eren felt like it was the start of something truly remarkable.

[ssscentral]

One More Time

Summary: Your touch was addictive, your scent intoxicating. He wants that back so badly, but he needs another chance. Just one more time.

pairing: Seokjin x female reader

rating: GA

genre: angst, mild fluff

warnings: pining, heartbreak, only mentions of sex, but everything very sfw

wc: 3k

member: Rid || @taegularities​

a/n: Hello! Back with the second fic in the Bouquet Collab series. Each one of us chose a flower and wrote a fanfic around the meaning of it! These were just 2 out of 6, so please look forward to many more awesome stories! I also want to thank my amazing betas @biaswreckme and @missgeniality, and further @birbdae for this wonderful banner!!!! 💕 And now let’s dive into the angst!

A single ray of sunshine illuminates the room.

Conveniently, it shines directly onto that one particular plant that stands in this whole apartment, still healthy and green as it refuses to die. Seokjin is fond of it, given the fact that it was you who had gifted him it many weeks ago.

You always used to say that his place is gloomy, grey, in urgent need of redecoration, so he could actually invite someone over and make them feel somewhat homely. After he’d declined all your offers due to laziness, you’d given up - except for the little present that you’d brought him that one significant day.

He remembers it so vividly, the memory still so painfully clear.

At that time, spring was just approaching, birds returning and beautiful flowers blooming. You were a sucker for nature and all its aspects - which was probably the exact reason for the distaste that you felt whenever you entered your friend’s apartment. His way of handling his place was dull, tasteless.

So, when you decided to surprise him with the odd choice of giving him an aloe plant as decoration and present, you weren’t expecting more than a pleasant evening that you’d spend together.

What you didn’t know was that he’d been a nervous wreck for days now, ripping out several strands of his hair before he’d finally decided to tell you the truth about what he caged in his mind. But when he saw you that day, wearing this beautiful sunflower dress, your hair in a bun with only two strands framing your angelic face, words failed him immediately.

Instead, he froze, eyebrows furrowing in fear of what you’d say or do if he confessed to you. And it didn’t take a lot from your side, no - one brush of your finger along his arm, an intense and loving gaze addressing only him, and a beautiful, mesmerizing smile were enough for him to snap before he pulled you in.

When you first felt his full lips on yours, you stared at the way his eyes closed, relishing in and welcoming the moment right away. You needed a second to comprehend what was happening, but once you understood, you felt yourself give in fast, the world becoming blurred and silent.

All you heard were the sweet words he uttered, all you saw was his glistening skin, and all you knew was that you wanted to bathe in this euphoria forever without ever having to let go.

But when you both found yourselves in each other’s arms, covered by nothing but his blanket, you still hadn’t addressed why this had happened and what it meant for you now.

Seokjin didn’t regret this - how could he, if it was with you? But the same old insecurity that plagued his heart and made his chest burn had eventually come back now. Despite having no real evidence or reason, he assumed that you didn’t want what he wanted - you’d never see him as more than a friend that you’d slept with in the heat of the moment.

In that sense, you’d woken up to a pressing awkwardness, him offering breakfast and coffee, but portraying distant nonchalance otherwise. And when you felt like none of this was going to go anywhere, you told him you had to go, finding some kind of excuse to leave.

Since then, an uncomfortable radio silence had found its way between you, and the only thing he had these days to remember you was the pink-orange flower that slowly bloomed on top of his desk.

Lying across the bed, Seokjin opens his eyes with a smile on his face, remembering how he’d looked at you in confusion when he’d first seen you standing at the threshold of his entry, smiling wide with Ally in your hands. Yes, you’d named the plant Ally - always one to give non-living things names.

Wrong.

Ally is very much alive. You’d made that clear that day. Plants take in carbon dioxide and release oxygen - yes, that’s what you’d lectured him with when he’d joked around. His apartment needs some freshness, you’d told him.

Now that he’s inhaling the air around him, it almost feels like he can smell Ally, which is total nonsense of course. He has honestly grown to love this small, spiky thing, especially after finding out the meaning behind it.

Affection.

Something he has felt for a long time now. Affection for the way you scrunch up your nose when you’re annoyed. Affection for the concentrated gaze you adopt when you’re reading a good book. Affection for your words, for the sound of your voice; he loves the sweet, honey-coated, soft tone that he swims in every time you speak.

Seokjin gets up, stretching his limbs and getting dressed when he looks at the clock, noticing that it’s time to go. There’s this boring gathering this evening, organized by some of your colleagues who thought it might be a good idea to come together and strengthen your bond as a student body or whatever.

The only reason he’s going is because he knows you’ll be there. He doesn’t care about getting himself drunk or talking about philosophical theories today - all he wants is to make right what he ruined back then. He just needs to tell you what words float inside his heart, hoping for you to reciprocate his feelings the way you’d responded to his kiss that night.

Gathering all this ardor for you, with only your name on his tongue, he closes his door behind him, summoning all the energy his body can deliver.

You’re easy to find in the small crowd. The room isn’t too filled, the atmosphere peaceful and pleasant when he steps in, running his hand through his soft, brown hair when he sees you. Breathing in and out in a steady rhythm, he approaches you, trying to mask his eagerness, hands pocketed to exude a relaxed demeanor.

When you finally notice the tall figure come closer, recognizing him as none other than the man you’re so in love with, your heart beats just a little faster and you tilt your head in wonder. After barely sparing you a glance in your classes, he has apparently finally decided to give you some attention.

Memories come crashing back; images of your last encounter flooding your mind as you press your tinted lips together, still feeling the phantom touch of his mouth on yours. He still looks the same, but his hair has gotten a little longer, almost covering his eyes entirely before he brushes the bangs away.

“Hey,” he greets, breathing in deep as he sits down in front of you, “long time no talk.”

You nearly counter with a sarcastic remark, but then contain yourself, only shooting him a breathtaking smile. “You’re right. Busy lives. How have you been doing, Jin?”

“Good!” he answers way too fast, clearing his voice before he continues. “I’m doing good. And you?”

“All good. Been writing some more lately.”

Seokjin nods as his eyes widen and his mouth forms an ‘O’, glad to hear that you’ve picked up your hobby of creating beautiful poetry again. He’s even read some of your poems, and you’re truly talented, working around words so easily as if they were his own heart.

“Oh, wow! I- um… I took care of Ally. Do you remember her?” he stumbles over his words, ears growing increasingly red. He’s such a dork and you can’t help but smile a little.

“That’s nice to hear. I bought one of these myself a few days ago. Reminded me of you.”

“That’s great! T-that’s…” What is he trying to say? There must be something that he had prepared, but for the life of his, he can’t remember anymore. All he knows at the sight of you is that he wants to grab you by your waist again, pull you in to press you against him. He wants to feel your lips, move against them in soft, then needy motions.

He just wants you as a whole, if not forever, then once.

Just one more time.

And when he sees you wait for him to speak, fumbling with your fingers with your eyes far away from his, he whispers the word “courage” to himself once before his hand reaches out to grab yours and settle on your palm.

Your gaze shifts to him immediately, his abrupt action causing confusion in you as your heart rate spikes up. But when you see the expression on his face, you feel like you know.

“Y/N, I- we… we need to talk,” he finally declares, his thumb gently ghosting over the skin of your hand, such a simple gesture sending shivers down your spine.

Yes, he doesn’t have to say much. You know what he wants to talk about; after all, there aren’t that many possibilities of what he could want at your first encounter after being somewhat estranged all this time.

“I’m not sure I want-”

“No, please,” he interrupts, squeezing your hand tighter in his. A few weeks ago, his warmth would’ve felt like a safe haven for you, pulling you out from the dark grounds of an ocean if it needed to - but right now, you feel like you’re drowning, like you’re sinking instead of swimming up. “There’s so much I’ve been wanting to tell you and there were so little opportunities to do so.”

Half-fearing, half-anticipating what he’s going to say, you search for the walls you’ve managed to pull up, accepting that Seokjin will never want you in that way. You think you’ve moved on, but now that he’s so close, on the brink of either confessing or rejecting you, you feel tense - and both options aren’t ideal for you right now.

You wait until he’s ready to talk, watch his chest rise and then fall, his eyes meeting yours, but looking like they’d rather not before-

“I’m in love with you,” he finally breathes - and as he mutters his last word, the air around you becomes suffocating, the sounds muffled and his touch heavy.

Is that better than being rejected? You don’t know. You really do not know; and the shake of your head and furrow of your eyebrows show him that something is plaguing you that he might not want to hear.

“Y/N.” His tone is calm, steady, different from your hazardous heart that’s breaking right in front of him, and he doesn’t even see it.

“Why did you not tell me that back then, Jin?” you inquire, pulling your hand away and settling it on your lap. “We slept together. Why did you let me go?”

This… this is awkward. It’s ridiculous. Seokjin shouldn’t have decided to talk about this in a crowd, surrounded by people who know nothing about what’s going on between you two. But now that he did, his heart sinks, his mind in a painful fog, and he puffs out some air, calming himself.

“Let’s leave,” he suddenly suggests, and you think you can see the faintest glint of panic in his dark eyes, “clear it out somewhere else. At my place?”

Again, you shake your head, chuckling lightly but not decently. “I can’t. I’m sorry, I can’t. There’s someone…”

Jin is quick to cut you once again, his breathing suddenly erratic. He’s been in love with you for years - no, he can’t take the thought of you having a boyfriend now, choosing someone over him. “Someone else? This fast? Y/N, why did I never-”

He stops mid-sentence, and it happens just timely as you were going to hold out a hand to silence him anyway.

“Jin. Listen,” you start, leaning in closer, “there’s someone who offered to guide me through a scholarship. Not here - in a different city. And as much as I’ve always wanted you, I can’t do long-distance relationships.”

Your words ease the pain inside him, his mind suddenly relaxing as he takes in your confession. You want him. You’ve always wanted him. Is all of this real?

“Where- where are you going?”

“It’s too far away. I wouldn’t see you more than a handful of times a year. I can’t do this,” you admit, your eyes stinging as you swallow the lump in your throat.

You see him tilt his head with a sigh, and you’re on the verge of breaking when you see his mouth twitch, that familiar movement that mostly means despair. This always happens when his grades are worse than he expects. It happens when he talks to his little brother who lives miles away. Mostly, you see it when you watch - or used to watch - movies together, especially Pixar and Ghibli ones tearing him up in no time.

And now, it’s happening because of you.

“Is there no way for you to stay?”

You bite your lip, chewing on it until you taste your lipstick. “I don’t think so. And it’s… a big chance for me.”

Seokjin’s jaw clenches and he nods, relief turning into sorrow as his expression shows understanding on the surface while his blood is boiling with pain on the inside. He’s angry with himself - he truly is. But he’s also sad about the fact that you never approached him.

And while waiting for the other in silence, phones in your hands, but the courage to message each other so far away, you missed it. You both missed it and he hates it.

“Then I hope you’ll get everything you want, Y/N,” he finally says, standing up as he grabs his thin jacket. It’s probably not that fresh outside yet, he can carry it - maybe hide his fumbling hands that clearly show his nervosity and distaste to this whole situation.

All he can think of is to get away before he breaks.

Yet, he comes closer to you, hovering above you before he leans down. Not caring about your surroundings, only seeing you, his heart only beating for you, he presses his lips onto your forehead first, wanders to your nose, both your cheeks and your earlobes as he says in between each kiss, “whenever… you decide… to come back… I’ll be here…”

Then, he cups your face, looking at your beautiful, full lips, missing how they feel on his before he kisses you gently. His mouth moves delicately, sweetly against yours, bittersweet memories and feelings streaming back as you internally forbid yourself to cry.

“Waiting for you,” he finally whispers, lips brushing yours, and every fiber in you tries hard to hold back. To not pull him into another room, kiss him more fiercely and bring back the fervent heat that you’d indulged in the last time.

His thumb brushes your cheeks softly, his eyes registering you gulping hard as he says his goodbyes, so he can leave. There’s just no way he can stay here any longer. “Don’t cry. I’ll be here, sweetheart.”

And then, his warmth is gone.

Fighting the urge to follow him, you watch him walk away, mind going crazy as you see him face the ground. You can’t falter. You need to focus on your studies before anything else - you don’t want to regret your choices; and if what he says holds true, you might just be able to wrap him into you forever when you come back in a year or two.

Maybe it’s not over yet.

The sun has set by the time Seokjin arrives home. All the sunshine from today morning has vanished, warming someone else, somewhere else now, leaving him in the dark as he lets himself fall on his bed.

An absolute disaster, all of this. And what an idiot he is. Why did he not insist on inviting you over? Ask you if there was any way you’d spend this one last night with him? The lingering feelings of your soft lips strengthen his despair tenfold, and he hates himself for not fighting for a night or a day with you. After all, you’re not going away just yet.

But deep down he knows why he did what he did: being together again would just hurt you both further, the small flame that both of your pain is becoming a searing wildfire. At least he knows for sure that this is what would happen to him. He knows it’d be near impossible to let you go if he woke up beside you.

What if Seokjin searches for scholarships, too? Your grades are similar - if you can get one, why not him? The picture of having you around, falling asleep next to you, studying together and bantering over food and movies - it’s so intriguing that he knows what he’ll search up tomorrow. 

Then again, you have your people; he doesn’t know anyone who can guide him through this, give him a fast opportunity to study somewhere else, be near you.

He doesn’t know. Not how to get you back, not how to feel you again; his brain comes up with nothing helpful, no plan he can actually execute successfully.

Slipping out of his pants, he lingers at the corner of the bed, his arms leaning on his thighs as his fingers tangle between them. Seokjin shakes his head as he physically feels his heart break, each broken piece fighting the other and torturing him, no matter how much he tells them to calm down.

And despite not knowing what to do, what to feel, how to erase the image of you and your face from his mind for the time being, he remembers something else.

When he’d looked for the meaning of the aloe plant, he had found many sources, some beautiful descriptions, and some poetic definitions that connected it to an emotional feeling. While the flower holds the meaning of affection, the memory of another word comes flooding in, ironic to the fact that aloe is supposed to heal, used to mend injuries and pain.

And thinking of this particular word, all he does know at this agonizing moment is that he identifies with your plant’s meaning.

He knows that all he feels is grief.

If you enjoyed the fic, consider liking, reblogging or sending an ask! We love to hear from you! 💕

[cherryblossomtease]

Chapter 15

18+ only

warnings and summary - Masterlist

Because sometimes all you need is a simple reminder of who started this mess in the first damn place 💜

Warnings : as always 18+ only please- dom Zemo, sub Bucky, sub reader, punishment, m/m, m/m/f, light bondage

Authors Notes: Really didn't think I would be posting this weekend but it's a holiday in the states so why not! Still working on the rest by you know, neglecting everything that matters to create this fictional world. Anyhow, I can honestly say this is by far the most graphic story I've written so I'm a little nervous but it's already done, can't change it now, and I honestly don't want to! That said I hope you enjoy reading as much as I did writing!

~

Nothing lasts forever, especially when it’s this good. And this fabricated reality is about as good as it gets. Still, you know this boat will dock soon and goodbyes will be said. There’s really no way around it, try as you might to come up with a plan to talk Bucky into staying. Even now as you fight to stay asleep, your brain is working hard to create a solution while you refuse to give into your worries so early in the day.

You turn onto your stomach ignoring the dark thoughts, choosing instead to enjoy the feel of a strong arm across your back and a leg, hairy and heavy over both of yours.

Settling again with a content sigh, sleep starts to pull you back under. Thank the stars. You really aren’t in the mood— even if your dreams apparently are.

And what had you been dreaming about anyway?

A little house on a wide cliff overlooking water, and something else? The harder you try to remember the more you feel yourself slipping back into that dream space.

There was a small animal. What was it? A rabbit? Its fluffy body too close to the edge of the cliff. But in the dream you’d stayed standing in the doorway of the little house too indifferent to go and save it….

You feel bodies moving lazily, a stream of breath along your back that tickles; arms and legs and the men they belong to not fully awake and starting to stir like you, even as you quickly slip back into sleep until you’re standing in the doorway of that house again with the warm winds on your face and a view of the French sea below. The drop is dangerous. Deadly even.

Why haven’t you started talking Bucky into staying yet? Because you don’t like thinking about it too much. That's why. You start walking towards the edge of the cliff and you’re fully aware of your worlds crossing over —real thoughts present in your dream.

It’s probably bad luck to resent good deeds, after all that’s what he’s leaving you for. He wants to go off and live the life of the hero he never got to be. That and to keep Zemo’s location safe; but that’s besides the point. Hmm… Look at me, selfish even in my dreams. You smile when you shouldn’t.

Staring over the edge of the cliff it’s suddenly clear how unstable the ground is here and you gasp as it crumbles beneath your feet without warning.

Your eyes open with a start.

Well, that was a bit on the nose. Your subconscious does like to lay it on a thick sometimes, especially when you continue to ignore the things bothering you for too long and you've been setting these feelings aside since the text came through.

But just as quickly as you’re left to shake the shadow of the eerie dream, your frown fades replaced by a slow smile.

There is a very familiar poking at your ass that can sometimes be annoying-- this morning it’s welcome. You reach back and feel for the body that the greeting belongs too, comforted by the warmth and solid muscle of Bucky’s thigh under his tight boxers.

Mmmmm, the source of my distress and my desire, you think and grin into the pillows with a soft moan when his hand, hot and strong takes hold of your hip, massaging as he presses his erection into you.

You’ll talk to him about your dreams later.

Feeling a draft where there should be warmth, you open an eye to find breaks of sunlight in the space between Helmut’s arm and torso. When you turn your head you’re met with the sight of his bare chest, broad and covered in the softest dark hair. His necklace hangs off center, and you, as always, are helpless to it.

Your hand leaves Bucky’s thigh and your fingers slide over the delicate links in the chain and down into the soft chest hair as you turn your head to find he and Bucky locked in one hell of a kiss for so early in the day. It must have been their movement or the sound of their lips that woke you and pulled you from the doom of your fatal fall.

Dreams are so strange…

Your heart flutters when Helmut lays his hand over yours pressing it tight to his chest. “Good morning love birds.” You snicker and watch Bucky pull away from Zemo looking a little embarrassed. He does pause to kiss your cheek however before getting out of bed with a long stretch.

“So where the hell are we anyway?” He asks going to the balcony door, looking out at the passing waves. “Feels like nowhere.”

Zemo is looking down at you, stroking your profile, kissing your nose. “We should be well within the middle of it actually.” He answers, eyes still fixed on you.

“Perfect” You say softly letting him pull you so close that he blocks out the light as your lips meet.

“Breakfast is ready sir,” Oeznik calls from outside the bedroom door.

Zemo grumbles at the interruption but you’re starving. “What? I’m not going anywhere” You huff turning away, trying to escape. “You just said so yourself. I've got no place to go.”

“All by design” He smiles and lets you get up, giving your ass a smack as you go. Bucky is watching from the doorway and laughs at your yelp-hop-rub combination.

Swearing under your breath you go over to the closet, grab your silk robe and pull it on over your shorts and tank top, yawning as you drag your feet over to Bucky. You pat his stomach, kissing him quickly. “Hungry?”

“Famished.”

“Lets go up.” You say tugging at him as Zemo gets up and puts on his own robe across the room. It’s not the thick one you liked from before the raft, but silk like yours— Tom Ford if memory serves— god his influence is strong. How the hell do you remember this stuff?

You watch him scratch at the back of his messy nest of hair like he always does in the mornings, somehow looking both sexy and adorable, alternating between the two with the ease of flicking a light switch. You can only smile at the enigma that is Helmut Zemo and pull Bucky away from the doors.

The three of you leave the room shuffling along, making your way down the hall to the den. Zemo trails you and Bucky accepting a small espresso from Oeznik as he watches the way you and your Sergeant interact. Neither you nor Bucky are necessarily morning people and though it’s nearly ten, you’re both somewhat irritable now that you’re actually moving around and slightly hungover from yesterdays sangrias as you make your way up to the top deck where breakfast will be served.

The sun is so bright you huff about not being able to find your sunglasses and Bucky accuses you of being a diva. The only appropriate reaction is to give him a shove.

Zemo snorts a laugh at your near sibling like banter which you’d established after so many months together, but once you find your glasses on the bar counter and get a fresh cup of coffee and a bloody Mary chaser in your body you’re feeling like a new woman ready to conquer the day… a day spent doing nothing really.

It’s all so casually decadent that it’s nearly sinful. Whats the one? The sin that doesn’t sound as good as lust but feels better after all that fornicating you’ve been doing— Sloth? Yes, you think reaching for what’s left of your blood Mary from the lounge chair, the ultimate of all the sins. Thou shalt not be a lazy ass sloth all day on your yacht.

Cheers.

You read on the deck for a while, play a few rounds of shuffle board with Bucky by the pool and attempt to best Zemo at chess in the den.

Lunch is wonderful, and you think you will need to meet this mystery chef at some point before the trip is over followed by a nap on the bedroom balcony.

When you wake up in the very late afternoon you venture down the hall with your book and unexpectedly find the men in your life moaning on the floor of the den in a tangle of beautifully tanned arms and legs. So you very quietly slip past, feeling a flush rise up your neck to your cheeks highlighting your wide but tight lipped smile.

You stay above decks giving them privacy feeling only the slightest twinge of jealousy. Not because you think you’ve been excluded but because you could use another session like last night.

A shiver runs deep in your belly thinking of the way Helmut brought you to climax, but you’re still more than happy to give them time alone. After all, you’ve had the Baron to yourself for far longer than Bucky.

You sink down onto the upper deck sofa, the image of them entwined, the sounds of their heavy breathing and Bucky’s near innocent moans enough to make you consider touching yourself but you wait, letting the urge build, one of them if not both will take care of you later.

So when Bucky comes up and finds you with a funny look on his face you’re completely confused. “Whats wrong?” You ask putting your book down.

He’s poured a drink and sits down beside you on the couch.

“I don’t know if I can do it.” He says shaking his head tossing back the bourbon.

“Do what?” You have an idea but you thought for sure he’d be eager to try, at least it looked like they were well on their way to his first time.

“Letting him control me, I’ve never had someone tell me no. Not like this.”

“Oh” You smile. It’s the no sex. The lack of it is a cruel form of control but the end results are glorious, if he could just be patient enough. “He won’t let you come?” You ask a little more patronizing than you’d intended.

“No!” Bucky whines taking his cue from you and you stifle your laughter. He’s so cute, even in the throws of his sexual agony. “And it’s making me crazy. I mean I’m already crazy but this is different.” He looks around and leans closer to you. “If you were to so much as look at my cock right now, I’d be done.” He says under his breath.

You let go and laugh rolling your eyes. Dramatics seem to come as naturally as submission to him. “That’s against the rules.” You warn eyeing him sidelong and attempting to go back to your book.

“I can’t take it. Fuck the rules.” He says again pulling the paperback from your hand.

You wave your finger in his face. “James. You’re not allowed.” You say playfully.

“Please.” He begs running his finger down your cheek, brushing your neck and gliding along your clavicle where he knows you’re sensitive.

“I can’t!” You lean away a little surprised by his attempt.

“He won’t know!”

You shake your head “I know but…” You try not to smile.

“I can’t take it.” He insists leaning in to kiss you. “I promise; it won’t take long.”

You give in and laugh sensing his desperation as you kiss. He does feel tense. The muscles of his arm and shoulder are wound tight as a chord. You smile against his lips letting him ease you down onto the couch, your book dropping to the floor as he moans, sliding his hand down your thigh, pushing your knee up and his own hips forward letting you feel what you’re fairly certain is the most rock solid hard on you’ve ever had pressed to your body. You whisper his name as his lips find their way to your neck and his hand slides between you to free himself from those amazing shorts.

“Shame, I had every intention of making your patience worth the effort. But you do love to prolong your torment, don’t you soldat.”

You gasp and Bucky hangs his head as Zemo comes sauntering over. Your laughter is a mix of nerves and feeling like you’ve been caught sneaking around with a boy like a damn teenager. It’s been years since you’ve felt a rush like this. Leave it to the Baron to stir that old excitement again.

“Don’t move” Zemo orders, pointing a finger in your face. You freeze, legs open where Bucky was, your arms tight at your sides. “Sit” He growls at Bucky who obeys begrudgingly as he slides back onto the couch.

Very quickly Zemo shoves your legs closed and grabs you by the arm pulling you up to standing. You lean away as he shakes his head keeping you close, his hold so tight you wince “I thought you knew better by now” He scolds you sounding disappointed.

“I told him not too?” You try looking as innocent as possible. You truly had no intentions of fucking him, but maybe a quick hand job?

There is a flicker of excitement in Zemo’s eyes. It's been so long since you’ve given him a reason to really go for it and you hold in your smile because you’re meant to be sad and hang your head. “I’m sorry Baron.”

He ignores your attempts to apologize and pulls you over so that you’re standing in front of Bucky. He looks you both over for a moment thinking and then smiles. You don’t know if you love or hate to see him looking so pleased. Nothing “good” ever comes of that smile.

“Look James.” He says, waiting until Bucky raises his head. “I want you to see what listening to your eager cock and not my rules get gets you— and her.” He tells Bucky before giving you his undivided attention.

Zemo turns your back to Bucky and you feel his hand between your shoulder blades pushing just a little. You bend at the waist, not all the way, just enough to make sure Bucky knows where his attention should be.

This flouncy little designer sun dress you’ve changed into after your nap only helps direct his gaze as Zemo drags the fabric up slowly so that the reveal of your ass is yet another way to torment him all on its own and you give yourself over to the Baron and wonder how bad this will be.

“Pull them down.” He tells you, his hand smoothing over your simple lace panties. His voice is not so angry as it was when he found the two of you, but every bit as firm, and you glance up at him as you hook your thumbs into the waist band. He nods and you quickly obey, pulling your underwear over the curve of your hips and ass and swear you hear Bucky groan when you bend to pull them from your ankles letting him see the diamond shape of your pussy from behind for just a second, your smile hidden from view.

When you stand again, Zemo offers his forearm. You rest your stomach against him, your hand gripping his shirt, the other you will have to try very hard not to cover your backside with because you know that the breeze will be the last nice thing that you feel.

He tosses your dress back up holding you, adjusting the way he stands just a little so that you are safe but immobile.

“Count them off; to five.” He says leaning just a bit closer. The tone in his voice is confident. Zemo knows that you’re well aware of what this means.

“Yes Baron.” You say exhaling, trying to prepare, but five? Fuck. He does not intend on holding back. If he was being playful he would give you ten or more, but five? He knows you won’t be able to take more that that.

You dig your fingers into his forearm and hold your breath.

The first strike makes you cry out.

The way Zemo can raise his hand and bring it down on your ass is unrivaled. He doesn’t mess around. There is no teasing, no playing, no cute little taps to warm you up. Just instant punishment.

“One.”

Your voice shakes and the rousing heat of adrenaline spreads through your arms and legs.

Again he lifts his hand and brings it down quickly with a stinging force that sends shock waves through your body. Your cry is weaker this time, trailing longer.

“Two.”

You pull his shirt tighter into your fist, your cheeks are on fire already when you feel the air stir as his hand rises again. You wonder if Bucky is watching, you wonder if he see’s how your thighs flex and your flesh shakes when the Baron strikes you.

You close your eyes and draw in your bottom lip trying not to moan, but you arch your back and your hips begin to circle ever so slightly with the anticipation of the next smack. You’re practically whimpering as you offer up your backside for more.

Zemo can feel the light vibration of pleasure sounding in your chest and his laughter is a low, very amused rumble as he raises his hand just a little higher this time.

The next smack lands and you toss your head back with a gasp. You would have gone to your knees if he wasn’t strong enough to hold you up. “Three” You whisper but you don’t move. The air brushes your pussy, wet in spite of your reddening skin.

“Don’t look away.” Zemo says.

There is the answer to your previous question. Bucky likes it, but it’s not always easy for him to watch.

“James!” Zemo snaps and waits. Bucky must be looking again because you feel the Baron move.

The fourth strike comes and you steady yourself knowing you can take it, wanting it, loving it as much as your feel your legs shaking. “Four”

You’re breathing hard, as you anticipate the final blow, desperate for it to be over but sorry for it to end. You rest against him for just a second feeling both safe in his hold and powerless to his dominance.

When the last of your punishment lands you hang your head, rounding your spine unable to offer yourself anymore. You can not pretend and this is why he’s given you so few.

Letting your hips drop as your body shudders and a single tear falls, you whisper, “Five” And only Helmut hears you say it.

Very gently he pulls your dress down, the soft cotton is cool over your burning skin and he turns you around to face him.

He brushes the tear from your cheek, holding you in such a way that you can go limp in his arms. “It wasn’t that bad, you’re just out of practice.” He says smiling at you knowing it wasn’t kind either.

You’d love for him to know just once. Maybe let Bucky give him a slap across the ass to make it fair. But when you look at him the thought is all wrong if not hilarious and you just shrug a little and hang your head again, resting on his chest.

“No breaking rules.” He scolds affectionately, “Even if you’re only trying to help. Understood?”

“Yes Baron.” Your voice is very small.

He gives a nod, kisses your forehead and looks over his shoulder at James. “So, is this what you wanted?”

“No.”

“No… no I don’t think it is.” He agrees. “But I understand. She’s damn near impossible to resist still you must learn to control yourself. Apparently I’ve not made that clear. Perhaps a more direct approach.”

You both look at him wide eyed. What’s more direct than this you think not even close to recovered from your spanking.

“Both of you, go down to our bedroom.” He says as though nothing has ever been more obvious “Take off your clothes. Wait for me on the bed.”

You look at Bucky. He looks at you.

“You fucked up,” You mouth to him.

Bucky just gets up and pushes past you both.

*

“I suppose you could say I’ve had to get creative with my plans for you. I know that pain is something you can’t respond to in ways that she can.” Zemo says, smiling as he glances down at Bucky and then over his shoulder at you on your knees behind him. “Have you finished?”

You look up from what you’re doing, hoping it’s right. “Yes, I think so?”

He comes around to look at the rope binding Bucky’s wrists. It’s just for show to heighten the experience. Of course Bucky could break free if he wanted to— his strength is no match for a few rough fibers— but this is a training of the mind as well as the body. “You see, pleasure can be just as awful.” Zemo says, his voice making you shiver as he checks your work, tugging and tightening the rope a little more.

Leaning in close, he strokes Bucky’s jaw, his finger reaching to trace the spine of his ear and you smile when the hairs on Bucky’s right arm raise and Zemo loses the air of control for a second simply becoming the man who cares for the other deeply. “The irony of tying you to a chair to satisfy you is not lost on me, based on what I know of your past. But if you can endure it, I promise it will be nothing like the pain you’ve known. I could never hurt you in that way. Still, if at any time this is too much, if it triggers memories that change it from what it’s meant to be, please— James— say the word, your word and it stops.”

Bucky nods. “I will” He says softly.

“Nothing now?” Zemo asks genuinely wanting to know. Bucky shakes his head. “No, nothing.”

Zemo gives a confident nod and kisses the back of Bucky’s head patting his cheek a little harder than he needs too. “I only want to make you feel good— eventually.” He teases and Bucky rolls his eyes with a small laugh.

Pleased, Zemo pushes up and goes to sit in the soft chair across the room, notably more comfortable than the one Bucky has been placed in. Although the more obvious differences being, Zemo is not bound, Zemo is not naked, and Zemo has not been so gently stroked and toyed with that he’s been left with a perfectly vulnerable erection like Bucky has.

You’d had a hard time focusing on the ropes as the Baron made it happen. The way he’d taken Bucky in hand, winding down the length of his sex was in a word, mesmerizing. And when Bucky made that sound, that soft, pleading sound and Zemo stopped — his brow raised with such smug confidence— you wondered who would break first, you or Bucky. He’d quickly brought his hand up with one last tease, his fingers swirling around the curving head of Bucky’s member only to let go as though he’d lost interest.

Bucky’s groan was deep. He was beyond frustrated, but instead of breaking out of his restrains and fucking one of the two of you, he sat there just waiting to be punished for breaking rules in the first place.

He watches as you come and kneel before him, naked yourself as you’ve been told to be. He actually looks slightly scared but mostly curious. His erection is as always flawlessly pretty, arching up and back, smooth while perfectly veined and so inciting.

You only know what it is you’re meant to do to him because you’ve had it done to you before. You figure it’s very similar, only the mechanics are different because his is a man. If Zemo doesn’t approve, he’ll tell you.

The Baron in charge picks up his drink, the ice rattling as he takes a sip and lets the scene settle in his sights for a moment. He likes to see the two of you together, his two helpless things— his to play with and his to love.

“Begin.”

Bucky inhales, but you smile at him to show that it won’t hurt— it’ll just drive him mad.

First you take the little bottle of body oil from the floor and put some in your hands rubbing them together.

He raises his brow watching you and starts to relax thinking he might understand now. You take him in hand and start to stroke, you are after all very good at this. Over and over again, up and down his long, thick shaft, curving your hand over the head of his cock until he moans and rolls his eyes shut. When he opens them he does seem a bit confused by this sudden attention and he flashes a smile because it feels so good. If this is all that’s been planned, he could get used to this sort of punishment.

The room is quiet, there’s nothing but the soft hum of the ship, his breathing and the wonderfully obscene sound of the oil you’re using against his skin as you work faster…

It’s not long before you feel him stiffen and his breath grows quicker, his thighs flex, his hips raise an inch and he starts to moan softly, a staccato sound of pleasure that makes even your heart beat faster. He’s been waiting and suffering through so much you can feel the joy of release seeping into every inch of his body.

“You feel it happening?” Zemo asks softly. “The start, the pressure mounting? You see, she is very good. And she will get you there James, every time— right to the edge”

You yank your hand away and he jerks forward mouth open cock twitching with the start of an orgasm he will not have.

“To the edge” Zemo chuckles. “A cruel punishment for a greedy man who must learn to wait.”

Bucky quickly lifts his head, the realization flashing in his eyes as his chest rises and falls. He looks down at you.

You smile and reach for him again.

*

“Please” He begs breathless.

“Not yet” Zemo says leaning forward a bit in his seat, the drink in his hand all but forgotten. You notice the ice has long since melted as you wait for permission, watching over your shoulder.

He gives you a nod and you turn back to Bucky.

Wrapping your hand around him again, you feel him so solid he’s like stone. His thighs are flexed, his hips raise up in the chair as you begin to jerk your hand up and down and the light reflecting off the oil makes you both shine like gold.

He moans and you watch the muscles of his abs flex as he feels the orgasm coming on, helpless to it and your skilled hand.

“I’m going to come.” He groans sounding sorry for and drops his hips.

“No, you won’t. I did not say that you can” Zemo says like the villain behind you.

“I can’t it hold back” Bucky pants, his voice is thin he sounds like he very well might lose control and you feel him pulse in your palm. You twist your hand around sliding it down to the base thinking it might help hold him off if your focus is less near the collection of nerve endings.

Zemo stands and comes to you, tapping your shoulder. You let him go with a quick up and down and Bucky’s disappointment is the saddest thing you’ve ever heard.

When Zemo looks down at the wonderfully pitiful sight, Bucky shuts his eyes. “Yellow.” He whispers. “Please, yellow.”

“All right.” Zemo says kindly and gives his head a rub. “Rest”

“Thank you.” Bucky manages.

You stand not caring what Zemo says and kiss Bucky’s cheek.

“You okay?” You ask, your hand on his shoulder, lifting his chin to look at his face.

“Please… don’t, don’t touch me for a minute?” He asks and you give an embarrassed laugh understanding his request. You’re not exactly innocent in his torment.

“Of course I’m sorry I…” Your sentence is cut off.

Zemo has you by the back of your arms and pulls you tight against him. “You, not her.”

Bucky sighs dropping his head.

“I’m still confused. Is, this what you wanted?” He asks feigning ignorance though with you naked its clear what Zemo means.

Bucky won’t look.

“Answer me.”

“No, I mean— yes Baron.” He concedes.

You feel Zemo’s laugh along your neck. “You wouldn’t have been fast enough to finish before I found you. Well, maybe you, but not her. Tell me, how quickly can you make her come?”

“What?”

“How quickly?”

You shut your eyes as soon as you realize where this is going.

“I don’t know. I mean she always got there.” Bucky says sounding slightly self conscious.

Zemo smiles. “Two minutes. I can finish her off in just two.”

“Ha!” Bucky doesn’t believe him, who would.

Oh Bucky…

“Tell him it’s true.” Zemo leans towards you.

You nod glancing at them both. “He does this… thing.” You tell Bucky. “He works my spot and my clit at the same time and I come. Fast.” You say simply and totally helpless to it.

“It’s not always the most fun, rarely my first choice; but great when we’re in a hurry.” He shrugs and takes a knee before you even realize that he has. “Open your legs.” He says looking up at you.

Your eyes go wide, surprised to see him down and waiting with Bucky watching. Still, you part your thighs and wisely lay your hands on his shoulders knowing you won’t be able to stay upright without the support.

“This? Right James? This warm, tight, safe place? This is what you wanted?” Zemo asks, teasing Bucky with the way he slides his fingers between your velvet soft folds. You feel him turn his hand and his finger circles your entrance. He sighs and takes hold of your hip to keep you in place.

Two fingers slip inside and you hiss against the stretch, biting your lip as your head lolls to the side. You try to hold in the loudest of your noise but it’s hopeless.

The Baron starts to do his thing and you wonder if you might be able to deny him the pleasure of making you come in front of Bucky again, but just like always you end up gripping his shoulders to keep from falling as he does a perfect come hither with his two fingers as his thumb rubs with the perfect amount of pressure on your throbbing clitoris. He can’t resist and licks your peak for good measure until you hold your breath as he sucks sloppily and until you come on his hand and just as quickly as always. Your wild moaning is nearly feral but you could not care less. It makes you smile to hear him laugh softly so pleased with himself and you and your eyes shut as you pant, catching your breath.

Lowering your head, your eyes only half open, you both look over at Bucky who is glaring at the Baron.

“James.”

“Yes.”

“Stop breaking the rules.”

“Yes Baron.” He says giving in completely.

Zemo smiles and slowly pulls his fingers free from you, raising his hand just enough to show them so wet and sticky and glistening. He kisses your belly and looks up at you. “Go lie down.” He says rubbing your stomach, smoothing his hand over your soft tuft of hair. You’re still floating as you do, happy to go and rest and leave them to it.

“Would you like to come now?” You hear Zemo ask Bucky as he gets up and goes around the chair.

“Please.” Bucky whispers watching you sink down onto the bed on your side.

“I can finish you off just as quickly as I did her.”

“Yes. Please.” He begs through clenched teeth rising up again as if presenting himself to be relieved, the steady rush of blood to his lower half turning his cock a darker shade of desperate as it rises up like a tower ready to fall. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you.” He pants “I’m sorry I tried to fuck her. I’m sorry for breaking your rules. And I will do anything, please just… fuck. Please!”

Helmut leans down hushing him, pressing his face close to Bucky’s, grabbing him around the chest as his left hand comes reaching over his stomach promising an end to the day’s long torment.

He grips the soldiers gorgeous, endlessly taunted dick; your natural lubricant replacing the oil to help glide his fingers along.

When Zemo starts to work Bucky you can see through the look on his face that this is all he’s wanted to do for so long and you are reminded that this is as much the Baron’s discipline as it is yours— as it is Bucky’s.

Bucky makes a deep sound that gets your attention. His body flexes and you think he looks like a bomb ready to blow. A sexy, finely muscled, lightly tanned bomb with a look of pained excitement as his legs open and his jaw flexes.

“Are you mine James?” Zemo asks, his lips brushing his ear,

“Yes” He says pitifully raising his hips, thrusting once into the Baron’s hand just as Zemo lets go. A deep frown fixes between Bucky’s brows as he waits until Zemo grabs again and starts to perfectly stroke him.

Bucky’s mouth opens, his eyes fix on the incredibly hypnotic rhythm of Zemo’s hand.

“You’ve always been mine haven’t you?”

“Yes!” Bucky nearly shouts, his brows turned down with the exquisite anguish of the nearing release.

“Say it again,” Zemo demands, his right arm tight around Bucky, his eyes shut relishing in the control and the love, you listen to the wet rhythm as it gets faster.

“Yes.”

“Say it!”

“I’ve always been yours” Bucky moans loudly and glances over at you unable to keep your hand away from your pussy selfishly wanting to come again.

“Once more.” Helmut says opening his eyes. The muscle of his arm is flexed beautifully as he pounds.

Bucky moans so similarly to you that Helmut just smiles. He knows, he understands the hold he has over you both.

“I’m yours” Bucky manages and the Baron focuses his movement as if pulling the orgasm from Bucky’s body willing it to come forward. He jerks his hand up and away…but this time he’s finished the job.

He holds Bucky as the man cries out, his hips rising high this time, his cock pulsing with a tight up and down as he finally —god, finally— gives a high pitched groan with that first explosive release of come that shoots past his stomach and onto his own chest followed by equally satisfying spasms that send milky droplets flying free into the air and across his stomach onto Zemo’s arms; Bucky’s groaning and gasping near tears with the absolute exhaustion and relief of his well deserved climax, his moans and gasps of surprise so raw and unaffected.

By the time he lowers back down to the chair unable to do much more than sit there, limp and panting with his eyes closed, Helmut is holding him, caring nothing for the mess. He seems to love the sight of the pearlescent results of Bucky’s incredible orgasm as much as you do.

Smiling as he strokes Bucky’s hair, kissing his temple, he says with a tone only Helmut Zemo could manage at a moment like this, “You see. When you listen to me, I make it worth every second, every moment of torment. Yes?”

Bucky nods but it’s weak.

Zemo chuckles softly, kisses him again and reaches down easily undoing the ropes.

“Look at you both.” He says trying to sound angry, as if it’s not all his fault. “You can’t come to dinner like this. I’ll run a bath.”

He leaves Bucky and comes to the bed bending over you, his hand so sticky from the combination is heavy on your belly as he kisses your lips. “Hows your ass?” He asks.

“Still on fire.” You say and he winks as he rises.

“Good."

*

“You’re pretty quiet over there.” Bucky says splashing you from across the large tub. You’ve both been in for a while now after Zemo took a quick shower and left you alone letting you know he’d be up waiting at the dinner table.

Roused from your daydream but still not sure you want to talk about why you’re so quiet, you glance over and shrug.

“Whats wrong? You’re not mad about what happened are you?” Bucky asks sliding a little closer. The tub is surprisingly big in an already large bathroom and yet again you wonder how you’ll return to real life when this all ends.

“What happened?” You ask him.

“Getting you in trouble? He really put a shine on your backside.” Bucky says, a smile breaking through any attempt at being serious.

You sit up surprised to hear that’s what he thinks it could be. “Ha! No. Not at all. That was amazing… god” You tip your head back, the image of Bucky, naked and tired to a chair with Zemo holding him and whispering in his ear will be seared into your mind for life. “I didn’t know you could come that much.” You say, slowly looking back down at him,trying not to giggle.

“Neither did I.” He says practically blushing before he grins. “Same goes for you.” He tosses right back.

You laugh and roll your eyes. “Okay well we both know he’s capable of turning us into sex crazed idiots apparently.” You say with a cheeky grin and Bucky laughs shaking his head with a sigh.

“What is it? Some Sokovian spell or something, magic from the old world?” Bucky says with a thick accent wiggling his wet soapy fingers in the air.

Laughing you scrunch your nose. “Nah, that’s all him. Just wait until you’ve been around him long enough to get to the good stuff.”

“The good stuff!” He looks shocked “Well what the hell is all this!”

“This is amazing, but it not… well it’s not him. Theres so much more than sex. Watching tv. Eating dinner in bed. Naps— once he read to me.” You say with a sigh and the room goes silent as you both slip into a day dream laced with Helmuts beautiful voice surrounding you as he reads the classics on a warm summer night…

“You think he sits around daydreaming about us like this?” Bucky asks with a frown. “I worry sometimes.”

“Really?” You ask looking into his big blue eyes. Hundred years old and still so sweet. “Of course he does. Bucky, he wouldn’t have done any of this if he didn’t spend as much time thinking of us as we do him. Don’t be so naive”

He nods looking out the window and you know he’s just out of practice. He probably had a swarm of girls around him back when his life was normal. Maybe even a secret guy. But how long ago had that been. And since he’d been released from the words, his only real time spent with anyone has been with the two of you. For a moment you wonder if that’s fair. He should go out on dates or something, but then again you did try to get him on some apps. He hated them all. Women swiped right like it was their job of course, but he thought it was strange and wanted to meet them the old fashioned way but when he did he could only focus on what he didn’t like and just compared them to you— and Zemo.

“Hey.” You get his attention again. “I mean it, I’m really not upset about anything that happened earlier. Thanks for being such a rule breaker.” You say with a wink.

“No problem” He laughs as if that was his intention. Bucky’s expression softens as he sits back, the water rocking under the bubbles.

Bubbles. Talk about a diva, is anyone is on this big ass boat it’s him. Two adults having a bath drawn from them; why not throw in the bubbles. You roll your eyes ignoring the way your chest gets tight with the feel of being so adored and loving every second of his over the top ways and focus on Bucky who looks stunning in the bath— your heart sinking just a little.

“So what is it?” He asks unaware of your many distractions.

You look back to the window staring up at the sky for a while. “I’m just… sad.” You say giving in to the truth “I mean, I’m thrilled being here. But I’ve had this idea that I could talk you into staying with us. I keep imagining this life with you and Helmut and I know it can’t happen for so many reasons but I’m stubborn and spoiled. I truly hate not getting my way. So I keep thinking, maybe.”

He goes quiet now understanding, and then you feel his hand on your knee under the water. “I know. I’ve thought about it too. Maybe a little too much. Definitely enough that I’ve almost convinced myself it could work, but no. It just wouldn’t.”

You press your lips hesitant to say in case you might offend him but decide to just go for it. “And you’re sure it’s not just that you miss it? Saving the world and everything? I mean, I can see how it would be appealing— from controlled killer to stoic hero.” You tease gently, wiggling your brows up and down until he laughs a little, probably more annoyed than you’d like, and whatever facade you’d put on crumbles. The look of heartbreak turns your brows down, twisting your face with the agony of losing him. He looks surprised to see you so broken about it and finds your hand through the water.

“Hey hey hey.” He pulls but you’re not in the mood to be comforted. Bucky hates when you don’t let him coddle you, but he knows better than to fight it so he simply answers your question. “Yes.Well. No I mean, it’s nice. But honestly, if you really want to know, I could get used to being domesticated.” He shrugs letting go of your hand as he looks towards the shower where Zemo was and you swallow the tears that have been overpowered by your intrigue.

Managing a laugh at his expense you poke his arm on the rim of the tub. “Really? By me or Helmut?” You ask and swear you see him blush.

“You’ve already proven you can turn me into a homebody, and happy to be there, so —Maybe both?” He shrugs and there is such a tone of possibility in his statement that you’re instantly transported into a world in which the three of you are living happily. Maybe in this Mediterranean paradise, you’ve just come home from the market with ingredients for a dinner that Bucky has asked you to pick up and you help him cook while music blasts in your small but bright kitchen and you dance around until the house smells delicious and you set the table, flirting and toying with one another until everything looks beautiful before rushing to sit just as your Baron comes through the door…

Even here and now sitting in the tub with you, Bucky looks like the sweetest house husband glowing a soft gold in the light of the sun. What you wouldn’t give to be his forever. His his and hers, you think and your chin quivers with the threat of happy miserable tears.

Bucky isn’t oblivious to your hurting but he’s trying to keep strong, he can’t give in to you, not this time. “We’ll never know if I stick around.” He says and your little vision fades “I think I’ve got one visit, maybe two in me before someone notices an avenger hanging around their town and his cover is blown. You don’t want that. I don’t want that. I’d never forgive myself."

“I know.” You say and only realize that your head is down when his hand, which is covered in white bubbles reaches to lift your chin.

“Hey, come one. None of that. We’ve only got a little bit of time. I just want to make the most of it. Give me enough good memories to finally forget about whats left of the bad.”

You smile and nod, blowing the bubbles away before they go up your nose. “Fine.” You sigh and look back out the window hugging your knees. “Buck, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” He says only cringing a little when you call him Buck.

“Do you think you might ever love him?”

Bucky freezes. He looks— odd. Uncomfortable. Exposed? You realize very quickly that he already does, even if he’s not aware of it and decide not to push him

“It’s okay. I was just curious.” You say and try to calm him with your smile “We come from very different worlds. Letting myself love a man like Helmut Zemo took little to no effort for me, for you— I know why it might come as a shock. But I think you’ll find, when you do admit it to yourself and to him, he might just surprise you with how quickly he says it back.”

[spenciegoob]

Atom Bomb (Blurb)

A/N: look, i try to write angst where everyone stays alive... but, well, you see...

Summary: Girl it’s you that I lie with as the atom bomb locks in.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Angst!

Content Warnings: death of major characters (are we shocked), end of the world/doomsday

Masterlist

Word Count: 1K

___

The morning always felt like the only time my brain, and the world around me quieted down to a gentle hum. The people weren’t whisked away from the comforts of their homes yet. They had more time to live in that silence for a little while longer before moving on to their routine days. But the streets quieted down at night too.

It was my brain that got the memo by morning.

People always tell me they wish they could remember everything, and I knew their comments were made lightheartedly. The true meaning behind their words came from never forgetting the grocery list even if you had left the written copy at home, or how much you owe in taxes. I could do all those things, yes, and a small portion of my life had benefited from that.

But the parts that didn’t? That’s the part of my brain that is most active at night. If there was the ability to relive some of the worst nightmares that made your reality, I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. Yet, people still told me they were jealous I had to.

Not her, though. It wasn’t necessarily pity that she showed me when I told her what makes my mind so “great.” It was more of an understanding that there were awful images tattooed to the inside of my eyelids, and no way to remove them. When I explained my job to her for the first time, she did not ask me of serial killers, or dead bodies. She asked me if I could tell her what she was thinking.

One would think she was excited about me being able to read body language, but when I told her that I could read her mind because I was actually a magician, there is no other way to explain besides an exponential amount of joy and curiosity.

She made the mornings quieter in fact, but as she woke up along with me, and her body stiffened against my own ridgid form, I knew this morning was different.

The world around us caught on, the sounds of bumper to bumper traffic of people rushing not to the menial things they’ve done before, but to loved ones, and unfinished business. Angry teenagers protested down the street, yelling for the last time about the cruel world. It was a nice thought, but no rally could stop today.

The world screamed, fought as the final day began. My plans were different.

“Hey,” she whispered, turning over to squint up at me through the sunlight pouring in from the window. The universe gave her the spotlight she deserved one last time.

“Hi, my love.” She gave me a lazy smile as she reached up to stroke my cheek with her palm, pressing her palm against me. Her eyes were threatening to close, but she fought to keep them open.

“You’re so beautiful.” The words themselves weren't what caught me off guard, I was having the same thoughts about her. The reason for my surprise at her whispered finalization of affection towards me was because for a second, I believed it would be okay before the explosion.

The world was ending, but I had her to hold as it did.

“As are you.” Kisses shared in the morning light had never felt so much like a goodbye than right now.

**

I wasn’t quite sure the time when we finally got up from under the covers, we had already promised each other to get rid of all clocks. If we pretended we had all the time in the world, maybe the end wouldn’t be so bad. It was foolish in nature, but ignorance is bliss, and with the acceptance of doomsday came the realization that there was never a sufficient amount of time for us to spend together. We wanted eternity, the universe granted us 6 years.

“Are you scared?” She asked me, and truthfully, I was. I was scared for the world as we know it, and the outcome from this act of human greed. I was quite terrified, really, but that was not what she was asking me beyond those three words. I know what she really wanted to say, and that changed my answer.

“No, my love.” I knew when the bombs locked in, and were set to end humanity that I would still find her on the other side. She was my heaven, staying in her arms and never having to let go. Running my fingers through her hair, and squeezing her hand three times in the elevator. Kissing her forehead when she lays across my chest, and humming songs of my affection against her neck. Listening to her read aloud to me, and painting each other with peppering kisses. Giggling at funny faces in the mirror, and grasping onto the other in the night.

She was my final resting place, so no. I was not afraid of ever having to let go.

“I love you.” She grabbed my face and pulled me in for a bruising kiss one last time, and the world went quiet again. All that truly mattered was the girl I had pushed against me, tokening every moment we shared together as I did the same.

“I love you, too.” The sirens could barely be heard beyond our four little walls. Her eyes looked up at me with a pleading desperation to never let go, and tears gathered to finalize our goodbyes.

We couldn’t say the words however, even with the notion that tagging along ‘for now’ would bring us comfort during the transition into finding each other again.

That was okay, because without saying it, we both knew neither of us would stop for anything when searching for the other one more time.

___

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[writings-of-a-hufflepuff]

School House Blues

Fandom: The Mandalorian

Collection/Series: Western AU- Putting Down Roots

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Identifying Reader

Writer: @writings-of-a-hufflepuff​ aka @hufflepuffing-all-day-long​

Warnings: N/A

Request from Anon:  Hey so I saw your post that said requests for certain characters were open and I was wondering if I could ask for a din djarin x plus size reader with this prompt please? : (19th c) I’m the town’s school teacher and you’re the gruff wanderer/traveller/cowboy/outlaw/etc. That’s come to town. You help me fix the school house and wrangle the little demons I teach. I was thinking the kid could be one of her students! Thank you so much in advance ♥️♥️

Summary: When the bounty hunter strolls into your little mining town you don’t think much of it, but with a little boy in his wake and your school house in disrepair, he becomes more than just a passing visit, but a welcome constant.

Notes: You know me too well, Western AU/historic AU Din is so good as a concept and ughhhhhh this was so wonderful to have requested and I hope desperately that it’s good!

Reader isn’t really specified as plus size just because it didn’t really come up in the story? Although she is described as being quite soft and sweet in appearance. 

Archiveofourown

He comes into town with one hand clenched around his horse’s reins, guiding the bay and white creature with a bounty hogtied swearing and cursing over its rump, and the other hand holding a little boy of no older than six at his hip. It’s quite the sight, one that momentarily distracts you from your grief at the fact you’re teaching your children out of a saloon now since your schoolhouse was burnt to the ground. 

He’s imposing or he would be if the little boy wasn’t smiling up at him with big brown eyes. It’s hard to be imposing when you’re clearly the world of a small child and it makes you smile from the porch of the saloon. You’d been organising the boxes of donations the townsfolk had put together, since all your books, slates, chalk, paper, pencils, and the like had burnt in the fire, when he strolls past. He glances over at you and tips his head, hat dipping over his chestnut eyes and it flusters you for a second when you finally see his face. 

He’s handsome, incredibly so, too handsome to be in your small mining town you think. Deep brown eyes, a prominent nose and plump lips set in a perpetual pout. His jaw is sharp and his beard and moustache are trimmed neatly, despite the bruising on his face and the layer of dirt from the road he’s truly beautiful, a thought that flusters you further. The small boy sat comfortably at his hip and playing with the fabric of his suspenders is adorable, soft round cheeks and large brown eyes, but he doesn’t look much like the man and you’re curious what the story is there. 

The boy is old enough to be in school with you, to sit and learn his letters and to read while the older kids move on to learning about science, history, mathematics and poetry. There are a couple of children his age in your class, Timmy and Mary-Beth, both just getting the hang of gripping a pencil correctly. You wonder if he won’t be joining your class soon or if he and his guardian will be out of town before you can even consider preparing for a new student. 

You watch the man hitch the horse outside the Sheriff’s office, the one that’s not got a sheriff at the moment. You hope he’s not looking for quick pay, the lawman that resided in the Sheriff’s office at the moment was just there until they could find a new sheriff. He’d have to telegram out to get the bounty money. Your last sheriff had up and left after being shot at by a couple of drunk miners, he’d decided that was enough and quite the same day. The town had been a little more unruly since and it was beginning to make you and some of the other townsfolk uneasy without someone to keep the peace. The temporary lawman had been lazy and uninvolved thus far. It was after the sheriff quit that your schoolhouse burnt down and you weren’t sure it was coincidence. 

You watch the man place the boy on his feet and say something quietly to him before brushing his hair fondly. He grabs the bounty off of the horse, and slings the man over his shoulder. It’s impressive that he doesn’t struggle up the steps to the office even with a fully grown man thrown over his shoulder, the little boy follows after him as he goes inside. 

You return to your organisation. There aren’t that many books, not like you used to have. But, while you wait for some of your teaching associates across the country to send you items, they will do. There’s enough paper and some slates for all your students to practice their writing and get their work written down which is a relief and even a globe that the general store owner, Mr Hewitt, had found in a back cupboard for you to have. 

You’re trying to lift one of the boxes of books when he comes back out again, the little boy still trailing behind him, but this time something shiny is pinned to the man’s blue shirt. You don’t think too much about it as you struggle to lift the box, your heavy skirts not helping you move much, hindering your progress and causing you to trip each step forward you take. 

You hear his boots on the wooden stairs before you see him, he towers over you, as he takes his hat off, more polite than most men in town. You get a better look at the shiny thing pinned to his shirt and realise it’s a sheriff’s badge. The same one the old sheriff used to wear, you look from it to him and then down when you hear a little giggle. The little boy is still following after him, a sweet smile turned on you this time as he leans around the man’s legs to watch you.

“Miss, I can take that.” He gestures to the box in your hand, it’s not a question, and it’s straight and to the point. But, you’re grateful for the offer and hand it off to him without complaint. He’s stronger than you, that’s clear to see, his arms thick from years of hard work.

“Thank you…” You wait for him to tell you his name, trailing off as you lead him into the saloon that has been set out for the school day. There is a black board at the front, tables and chairs littered around the room, the liquor shelves have been emptied for books to replace them. 

The fact that Mr Karga had offered the saloon for the school was a miracle and while many in town grumbled about their favourite place of vice no longer admitting them during the day time, most were supportive of the decision to help the kids continue their school. Nevarro wasn’t a large town and mining was its main source of income, but the children deserved a chance to do more than just become miners and the school helped them do that. You helped them get into colleges on scholarships, to find jobs as clerks and apprentices in other parts of the country. 

“Din Djarin.” It’s a nice name, rolls of his tongue like honey. He doesn’t smile, not really, not properly, but there’s a little crinkle at the corners of his eyes that soften his face and make him seem warmer somehow. 

“And this little one?” You smile at the little boy as he begins to bravely step out from behind his guardian to greet you with a smile. He is a quiet boy, not the usual talkative sort you find with a six year old, but who knows what he’s been through even at this young age. 

“Grogu, he’s my…” He furrows his brow, clearly thinking hard on the right word. That alone tells you he is not his son by blood, a small fact that makes him even more interesting. Not many bounty hunters would take in a small child. “Son.” he finally says. Deciding it is the best term. Grogu isn’t his by blood, Din knows this, but the little boy he’d found all alone surrounded by death, was slowly becoming like a son to him. Aliit ori'shya tal'din. Family is more than blood. 

“Will he be joining my class? I run the school, currently we’re based here...in the saloon. Not my ideal place to teach but needs must.” You gesture around you to the makeshift classroom. You don’t like that the place still stinks of liquor or that at night it goes back to being a saloon where people drink, gamble, and fight. But, you don’t have a better place right now and the children need somewhere to learn. You can teach in any building, even if you dislike this one. 

You fit the image of a school teacher he thinks. You look like a respectable young woman, dressed appropriately, all neat and proper. Your hair pulled up and pinned away like it’s supposed to be. Everything about you is proper. Part of him wants to see you become ruffled, stop being so demure. It’s a thought that makes him frown at himself, the thoughts inappropriate especially towards a lady like yourself.

“Yes. We’ll be staying for awhile. What happened to the school house, Miss…?” He took on the job as sheriff the moment the lawman offered it, the pay was good, gave him his own accommodation and it meant he could settle down for a bit, give the kid an actual childhood. Bounty hunting was something he was good at but it wasn’t exactly safe to do with a six year old in tow. At least this job used his skills catching lawbreakers and put them to use in a place the kid could grow up. It helps that the teacher of the town is pretty too, he thinks. 

You give him your name before answering his question, “Well, after the last sheriff quit, the schoolhouse burnt down and along with all the things we had in it. Luckily it was at night and none of us were in the building. Burnt right down to the ground, nothing left…” You say it with a heavy sigh, thinking of that sweet little schoolhouse. The white painted wood, the familiar rows of desks with names carved in them, your favourite collection of university level texts at the back for the older and more advanced kids to explore. You had been teaching in that schoolhouse for the last five years and in a way it had become a second home for you, if you weren’t at your own little home, then you were in the schoolhouse marking work or planning lessons for the coming days. 

“Anyone know what caused it?” 

“No. We didn’t exactly have the mind to investigate and if it wasn’t an accident it was probably just some drunk who didn’t know any better. But, we make do and Grogu,” You crouch down next to the small child, moving your skirts to do so comfortably, “will fit right in, I think, don’t you?” The little boy smiles at you and giggles, before hiding behind his father’s leg again. 

“Have any plans been made to rebuild the schoolhouse?” Sheriff Djarin it seems is very straight and to the point, his tone isn’t unkind or aggressive, but his words are clipped, short, brusque as if he’s not quite used to being more flowery or saying much. You supposed a bounty hunter didn’t typically need to say much, but you hope he’ll become more comfortable with talking, at least to you, as time goes on. 

“No...i’ve been trying to put some pressure on the mayor to get it done but...he just doesn’t seem to care all that much now there’s a temporary solution.” You say as you begin unpacking the box that he brought inside, exercise books are brought out and sorted into piles, ready for the children to write their names on the covers and start afresh. 

He frowns, brow furrowing deep, lips turned down at the thought of the schoolhouse just never being rebuilt. It’s clear to him that saloon isn’t the place for a school and it’s even clearer that you are distressed with your new working arrangement, that you miss having a building that is entirely your own and entirely dedicated to teaching young minds. 

“I’ll sort something out. Is class starting soon?”

“Yes, not...not long now.” You double check the clock realising the kids will begin arriving in less than an hour and you feel wholly unprepared for the first day of school since the schoolhouse burnt down. 

You watch him crouch in front of Grogu, hand ruffling his hair fondly, “You’re going to stay here today, get some learnin’ in ya. I’ve got things to do, but I'll be back later, promise.” You’re surprised and warmed when he puts out his pinky finger for the kid to grab, a little promise that seems to you like something more. You wonder if the boy was scared of being left again, if this was Din’s way of reassuring his new son that he wasn’t going to leave him. The little boy wraps his whole hand around Din’s pinkie not quite understanding how the promises work yet.

“Have a good day of teaching, Miss Y/N.” He nods his head at you, grabbing his hat as he walks out the saloon with a purpose. The hat is placed on his head the moment he’s out of the doors and it’s that little element of politeness that surprises you. He carries himself like a gentleman but looks like any other rough and tumble man wandering the west. But it’s his treatment of Grogu that confirms the sort of man that he is. 

I’ll sort something out. You smiled to yourself realising that perhaps the new sheriff would be the best thing to happen to this town in a while. Someone who actually got things done for once. 

“Do you want to find your seat? Maybe do some drawing before class starts, Grogu?” You ask the little boy smiling at him as he nervously shifts from foot to foot, looking back out the doors as if hoping his father would walk back in. It’s clear he hasn’t had to do this before, be separated from him and left with a stranger, but you put on your softest smile and gentlest voice and wait patiently for him to nod his head before offering him your hand. 

He takes your hand and you help him get settled into his seat, you decide to put him near the front so you can help him easily and get him settled near you. He only knows you after all, and you think being around all the kids and far away from familiarity might be too much. You give him some paper, scrap bits that you don’t need anymore and a pencil leaving him to draw while you get ready for class.

                                                    ---------------------

The school day goes...well, it’s hectic and your hair is frizzy and falling out of the updo you styled it in that morning by the end. The children are unsettled in this new environment, the older kids, those nearing adulthood frustrated by the younger kids who can’t seem to focus or be quiet. Your brain feels too large for your skull and you sigh out a goodbye to your students as they leave out the saloon doors, one or two shoving through the swinging shutters much faster than needed. 

Grogu is the quietest of your students, sweet and attentive, he doesn’t speak a word, but follows your instructions well. He is behind on his writing letters and reading, that much you know from working with him, but he’s a quick learner and applies himself with a determination you rarely see. He doesn’t always play well with others. At lunch time you’d noticed him stealing food from the other children. It continued despite giving him your own lunch knowing his father hadn’t had time to prepare him something after coming straight into town and getting to work. He doesn’t share well either, but seemed to understand when you sat him down and talked to him about it. You suppose that being away from other children and only travelling with your father figure who would share his food with you without a thought, it must be confusing. The manners that he now has to observe, the rules of society that he’s never had to worry about until now. He looks suitably admonished despite the gentle way you chose to talk about it with him, that alone makes you think he’ll likely stop stealing the children’s cookies and be more willing to share. 

“David, careful!” You call out when one of your older students nearly gets trampled underneath the sheriff’s horses’ hooves as he runs across the thoroughfare without looking. 

“Sorry, miss!” David calls back over his shoulder, still storming ahead your warning lost on him. 

You sigh heavily and rub at your temples, stress enveloping you. A tug, swift and sharp on your skirt has you looking down. Grogu has a hand fisted in the fabric, pulling to get your attention. Once he has it, his arms open, hands up towards you, opening and closing, a universal gesture to be lifted. 

It surprises you, he is...quiet and reserved. You expected time to be needed before he was comfortable with you in any respect, especially after having to tell the boy off. Instead, he lets you lift him to your hip, hands reaching for strands of your hair and twisting them, surprisingly gently between his chubby little fingers. 

You watch your students run in different directions through town, their books and lunch pails in tow. Some stop on the open green, playing games together before their parents demand them back home for dinner. The warm little body in your arms is a soothing presence and the boy almost looks like he wants to say something, but just makes a soft cooing sound instead.

“Not much of a talker are you, little one?” He almost shrugs his little shoulders before looking up at the sound of heavy footsteps and clinking spurs. The sheriff leads his horse up to you, eyes following David with a shake of his head. Clearly, just as bemused as you at his lack of common sense.

Grogu smiles and giggles happily at the sight of his father, arms reaching out for him. You pass him over to Din, trying to ignore how close you get to the man to do it. He radiates warmth and smells woodsy mixed with some sort of soap he must use. This close you can see little birthmarks dotted across his neck. 

You step back once the boy is settled in his arms and smile, soft but tired. “Sheriff, how was your first day on the job?” 

He gives you a humoured smirk, one you’re not expecting, it takes you aback slightly. He looks...charming, approachable. Little dimples at his cheeks that soften his features in a way that makes you want to step closer. With a huff, not quite a laugh, he says, “Eventful.”

“That makes two of us, sheriff.” He notices the tired creases beneath your eyes, the once unrumpled appearance now dishevelled, hair coming out of its updo and blouse and skirt wrinkled and creased. You look like you’d had a rough day and he hopes Grogu wasn’t part of the cause. He still hadn’t figured out how to discipline the kid, he always turned those big brown eyes on him and he just couldn’t tell him no. 

“Din. Call me Din.” 

“Then you should call me Y/N.” There’s a moment of silence. You stare at him, at the way his hat casts shadows over his face, at the gentle hold he has on Grogu, the open top buttons of his work shirt and the dig of suspenders into his shoulders. He stares back at you. The gentle softness of your cheek, the marks that make your skin your skin and not someone else's. 

“We’re going to start building the schoolhouse as soon as the wood shipment gets here, I sent a telegram off today to get some good lumber in.” It surprises you in the most delightful way. When you said the mayor had been dragging his heels you meant it, but you hadn’t expected this new face to come in and make a start on what the mayor had been reluctant to do. 

“We’re?”

“I’ve convinced some of the men around town to pitch in and I know a thing or two about building.” In truth he’d intimidated more than persuaded. Most of the men were lazy, and had more concern for their own vices than for helping out. But, a mixture of convincing them they’d get their saloon back and reminding them that he was now the town’s sheriff seemed to get a few of the stronger and more skilled townsfolk to agree to help. 

“You’re the sheriff. You shouldn’t be building the schoolhouse, Din. You’ve got more important things to do.” You feel bad that he’s doing this, being quite so involved, when he’s starting a new job, one that takes up most of his time. Being a sheriff is a full time job, almost 24 hours a day 7 days a week. He has people to keep in line, criminals to catch, laws to enforce, and building a schoolhouse wasn’t on his list of priorities. It’s sweet and makes your heart ache oddly, but you feel guilty for adding another thing to his plate. 

“This is important, Miss...Y/N. The kid can’t learn in a saloon forever and you can’t work here forever neither.” He can see how desperately you want your schoolhouse back and something in him wants to provide that for you, to care for you. He tells himself it’s also for the kid, that his son deserves a proper schoolhouse to learn in. That all foundlings, all little children deserved a place to learn, like he had growing up in the covert.

“At least...at least let me and the children bring food and water down once you get started. I...you’ve not even been here a whole day and you’re already doing more than anyone else ever has...Thank you, Din.”

“It’s my pleasure, meg ba'jurir” You do not understand what he calls you, but you recognise that cadence, the rhythm of the language. Can almost see the symbolic nature of the alphabet. It surprises you that he knows what you’re sure is Mando’a, having only heard one other person in your life ever speak it. Mandalorian family groups were uncommon, but where they were they seemed to keep people in order, to value community. It made sense that he would take on the job of sheriff, adopt a child not of his own blood, if that were the case. 

You bite your tongue and don’t ask, you don’t know him and it is too personal to ask about his upbringing, culture or heritage. Perhaps, after you know him better you can ask, but you can almost hear your headmistress at school reminding you about manners and decorum even in a little mining town. 

“He didn’t...he didn’t cause any trouble today did he? He’s not used to being around others or...we’ve been on the road for a long time now.” He looks down at the little boy sitting at his hip, who’s playing with the metal star on his shirt. He knew that Grogu could be difficult, sweet, adorable, hard to say no to, but undisciplined and not used to the rules that people usually abided by. 

“I...I did have to have a word with him today…” You can already tell Din’s disappointed. He clearly loves the boy, but part of loving a child is wanting better for them and getting in trouble isn’t part of that. 

Din sighs heavily before catching the boy’s eye, “Ad’ika…”The boy clearly knows what’s going on and hides his face in his father’s shirt, suitably embarrassed about his behaviour. You think that’s enough to probably deter him from stealing from other kids in the future. You also think you might bake him some treats and use them as an incentive to work hard. You suspect bribery would work well with Grogu. 

“He paid attention beautifully and he’s already doing so well with learning his letters, but he’s...he’s quite…” You try to think of the best way to say that the boy just can’t resist taking other children’s food. 

“You don’t have to spare my feelings, Y/N. You can tell me.” You look Din in the eyes, deep brown meeting your own and sigh out before speaking.

“He likes to steal the other children’s food. I gave him my lunch and he still tried to steal Charlie’s cookies and Mary Beth’s macarons. I know he’s probably used to food being a thing he can just have since you’ve been travelling as a family unit…”

“Osik... I forgot to give him lunch. I am a terrible father…” Din looks at his feet, free hand rubbing over the scruff on his jaw. You feel the instant need to reassure him. 

“You’re not a terrible father. You just came into town this morning, immediately took on a job, and instantly went to work. You’re not a terrible father.” You hesitate, but reach forward anyway, a hand on his arm giving a quick reassuring squeeze. 

“Vor entye, Y/N. Thank you. Have you eaten?” 

“Oh…” You hadn’t really thought about it, that you’d given your food to Grogu to stop him going hungry and that you’d spent all day teaching with little more than the porridge you’d made yourself that morning to keep you going.

“Don’t even think about lying to the sheriff.” You did in fact consider lying to him, but the look he gave you reminded you of an overbearing mother hen who wouldn’t let you get away with it. Combined with the fact he was indeed the new sheriff, you felt it best to stick to the truth for now. 

“No...I haven’t.” You admit, feeling suitably admonished by him and a little guilty for even considering lying about. 

Din adjusts Grogu on his hip and nods his head behind him towards the street, “Come, I’ll buy you dinner at the café.”

“You don’t have to, Din. I can make dinner at home.” You think back to the soup you were going to make that night, and even though you haven’t the energy in truth to make dinner, you can’t ask him to buy you it. It is too much and unnecessary. Any good teacher would have made sure their students were fed. 

“You kept my ad fed in place of yourself. I’m buying you dinner.” His voice left no room for argument and so you found yourself following after him across the street towards Reeva’s Café. 

                                                   ---------------------

Din’s presence in town becomes apparent very quickly. He does not allow the men to wander drunk through the streets, start fights, or harass women. He does not suffer law breakers or those who cause the peace to break. He is swift, effective, and there isn’t a member of town who doesn’t respect his authority even if some don’t particularly like having to listen to him. 

For you it is a refreshing change. You don’t worry about the children wandering around town in the evenings or about walking out of your home at night. You don’t worry about your meager belongings being stolen or a fight breaking out in the saloon on an evening and ruining the few bits you have for the school. 

He is quiet and polite, not much of a talker, but everything he does shows a man of honour and good morals. He is sweet with the children as well. 

It had become common place for him, while waiting for the lumber to begin the schoolhouse, to come into the saloon while you were teaching. He said it was because the day time left little for him to do as sheriff, but you think he just enjoys helping with the children. They make him smile. A real smile. 

Sometimes he just sits with his son on his lap and helps him with his letters, other times he wanders between tables helping those who need it or using his presence to quiet the children after an exciting lunch break. Reminding them to respect you, their teacher, and listen.

Your favourite, and the childrens’ favourite times were when he’d sit down and tell them stories of his travels. For a man who didn’t speak much, Din Djarin was a natural born storyteller. 

That’s how you found yourself taking a step back, sitting on one of the saloon bar stools off to the side as Din took your place at the front of the class. He had an ability with the little ones that amazed you, none were ever scared of him despite his height, posturing or the guns holstered at his side and slung over his back. He always managed to make them smile and laugh, always got their curiosity going and inspired them equally. He made it a point whenever he talked to your class to share stories of both men and women he’d met who’d done amazing things, you could tell he was trying to get the girls in your class to see they could be more than housewives or washerwomen and you appreciated it. 

“So there I am standing toe to toe with the biggest grizzly you’ve ever seen…” He gestures with his hands, standing at the front, arms out front to show just how large this grizzly bear was. His voice took on a different, more dramatic quality then normal. Grogu clapped his hands from his seat on your lap, the little boy having grown increasingly comfortable around you.

“Now this grizzly has to be 8ft standin’, and he’s the angriest bear you’ve ever seen and i’m sure that’s the end of me. I’m about to become a grizzly bear’s dinner, Sheriff Djarin stew!” You laugh along with the kids at the prospect of Din becoming stew for a grizzly bear, you’re never sure how much is fiction or truth in his stories, although part of you wouldn’t be surprised if they were all completely true. He was...he always seemed larger than life despite being so quiet. Like some sort of figure out of a western story.

“When out of nowhere, charging between me and this mean grizzly, comes the largest bull moose I've ever seen…” 

“What’d you do?” Mary Beth pipes up, big blue eyes open wide. 

“Well, I got the he-” He stops himself looking at you, you raise an eyebrow reminding him that cussing around the children would not do well for him, “-out of there as quickly as I could! One thing you should never do is stay around to fight a grizzly, never ends well to go toe to toe with one. That moose was being kind and giving me a chance to get away.” It amuses you that he always manages to twist a moral into the story. This time about kindness and helping those weaker than yourself, along with a healthy dose of not getting into situations with angry grizzly bears of course. 

“Well, I think it’s time I let Miss Y/N, get on with her mathematics lesson.” Groans and grumbling rises up from your students as you place Grogu in his seat and begin making your way to the front. You watch Din frown at them, hands on his belt, leaning into one hip more than the other. He is the perfect picture of a disappointed father. Lips twisting downwards, pulling on his moustache. 

“Hey, now! Miss Y/N always makes your lessons fun so don’t you start giving her trouble or else i’ll have to stop coming in for story time.” It’s a threat that promptly has them settling quietly in their chairs and getting their books and pencils out.

You rest a gentle hand on his arm when you reach him, quietly telling him thank you. It’s heavy with meaning. Thank you for being there for the children. Thank you for providing them with stories. Thank you for always settling them and reminding them to respect me. Thank you for thinking about the schoolhouse. Thank you for settling the town and keeping the peace. 

He just nods at you with the smallest hint of a smile, enough to make you feel the tiniest bit flustered as you watch him walk to the chair where he’d left his hat, holsters, and lasso. 

“Say goodbye to the sheriff, children.” You tell them as all of you watch him make his way to the doors. He stops before them and tips his hat at you all with a smile, but the moment he’s out the doors it drops and in his place is the hard sheriff who won’t stand for trouble. 

                                                   ---------------------

Once the lumber comes in and the plans have been drawn up and approved by yourself, at Din’s insistence, the work begins. The schoolhouse design had been run past you because Din didn’t want to miss anything that was needed or that would help you teach. He had told you not to worry about size, scale or cost, that the community was pitching in and that the mayor had found a fund tucked away somewhere for the school. The fund miraculously appeared after Din had a long meaningful chat with him.

He wouldn’t tell you that he’d made threats against the mayor about digging up some of his dirty laundry, but he had. The mayor had a lot of skeletons in his closet and also a nice stack of credits he was sitting on in his own personal mayoral vault. The fact that the mayor had been so reluctant to rebuild the schoolhouse when he easily could have almost made Din see red, but he didn’t think it would look good if he beat the man to the curb as sheriff. He was supposed to be upstanding and law abiding, if he wasn’t why would any of the townsfolk be? 

A few days into the project you decided it was time you made good on your promise to come to the site during lunch time with the children to bring water and some food. You and the children collect pails of water and the baked goods you’d made the night before, trudging through the streets. You held Grogu on one hip, the small child the slowest of his classmates, and carried a heavy pail of water in the other, so heavy your shoulder slumped down on that side to accommodate the weight. 

The children were happy to help, after all, many of their fathers and older brothers were working on the school site and it was a chance in the school day to see people they cared about. You were also sure they wanted to ask the sheriff a multitude of questions and beg for a story, but you’d reminded them that they weren’t there to get in the way or interrupt the work, just to offer food and water.

You’d reluctantly admitted to Reeva that you found the sheriff attractive, after the older woman badgered you day in and day out about the time you spent with him. You could admit he was handsome. His eyes were deep brown and spoke more words then he often did. He had both a look that could intimidate and also soften into something warm and safe. The beard and moustache he sported made him look ruggedly handsome and his shoulders were broad and wide. He looked like he’d stepped out of a story book or from an illustrated newspaper short story. Rugged but clean, dangerous but kind. 

You had to admit though that this was your favourite look on him. As you came upon the building site he was busy sawing a plank of pine in two. His shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbow exposing his strong forearms and thick wrists. His suspenders had been flung off his shoulders, resting at sides no longer covering the strong back that was tensed as he worked. The top few buttons of his shirt had come undone, almost indecently so to show a pronounced collar bone, strong neck, and dark chest hair and the brown hair on his head had begun to curl from the sweat he was working up. It shouldn’t have been attractive. He should have looked like any other man working up a sweat, you shouldn’t have wanted to wipe his brow and brush your fingers through the curls of his hair. But you did. 

Taking a deep breath to compose yourself you look down at the little boy at your hip, “Should we go say hello to your father?” 

“Papa!” He clapped his hands at you in confirmation. You’d slowly learnt that papa was one of the only words he said, you weren’t sure if he chose not to speak or simply couldn’t. But, given his increasing aptitude with writing his letters, you thought it likely that he simply chose not to speak. 

The call instantly has Din’s head popping up from his work like a startled deer and you watch as his eyes roam across the children until he catches sight of his son at your hip. The smile that lights his face is so bright that it’s almost blinding, there is a longing you feel whenever you see his happiness to see Grogu. Some deep part of you that desires that sort of family bond. He loves his son so deeply, it doesn’t matter to him that their blood isn’t the same and part of you wants desperately to be part of that love and happiness. 

“Children, hand out the food and water, will you? But be careful!” You remind them as they run towards familiar faces, it is still a building site after all, and the last thing you need is a child getting hurt in any way. 

Din finishes sawing the plank before striding over to you, hand pulling a rag from his back pocket to wipe the sweat from his brow. You look...radiant. The summer sun shining over you, causing your skin to glow, your hair to shine. Your smile is as soft as your eyes and you're gentle in the way you hold his son to your hip, like he belonged there. Like the two of you belonged together. Din can admit that he enjoys your company more than he probably should, he can even admit that a part of him deeply desires you, wants you to join his family unit, become part of his aliit. You’re tender and kind to all the children you teach, your children as you often call them, and you’re incredibly kind to Grogu who you treat with more understanding than most school teachers ever would. You keep order in your classroom through kindness and mutual respect, not through fear or punishment. The maternal shine to you draws him to you in a way that, had he not been Mandalorian, he might be ashamed of. But, family is everything to him, Grogu is everything to him and if he is to put down roots here, he can’t help but consider putting down roots with you.

It’s a silly thought though, you’ve not known each other long and he isn’t well to do or gentlemanly. You’re far better educated than him, kinder than him, and it is a pipe dream that he doubts will ever come to fruition. It doesn’t help that he struggles at times to even talk to you, let alone make his feelings known. 

“Miss me, Ad’ika?” He calls to the little boy, carefully pulling him from your arms when you offer him. If you allow yourself to, you can almost imagine he’s taking your own child from you, that the two of you have formed some sort of family. But, you are just his son’s teacher and he is just the sheriff of your small town. 

The boy babbles at him, not real words, nonsense, or attempts at words that don’t translate, but you can see that improving. Can almost imagine what settling down here can do for the boy, give him a chance to learn, grow, make friends, and find some stability and safety. 

“He’s been itching to come over all day, they all have. I was struggling to get them to focus on their history lesson.” You had 15 children all desperate to get out of the saloon and visit their fathers for lunch. It had been a...very difficult lesson to say the least and you still felt a little frazzled. 

“History?” The boy tugs at his father’s hair and you watch him wince as he speaks, pulling little chubby hands from brown curls. 

“The fall of the empire and the rise of the republic. Not the most riveting subject for them I'm sure, they much prefer when I tell them about different societies rather than politics.” You want to say like Mandalore and the Mandalorians because you want to draw him in, desperate to have more of his time even when he’s already doing so much for you. You enjoy the odd hour here and there when he takes over your class and becomes the teacher, where you can just sit and listen, learn yourself. 

“Mandalorians believe that our history is our future. We learn it as soon as we can walk.”

“So it is Mando’a you’ve been speaking?” It warms you to see him open up to you like this. He is a private man, quiet, and insular. While he can yell with the best, and demand attention, can intimidate and even persuade, it’s all part of his job. The face he puts on as sheriff. He is quiet about himself, sharing little and not so often. You revel in the trust placed in you wherever he tells you a little something more about himself. 

“You noticed?” Most people don’t even know Mando’a exists, let alone recognise that the words he slips into his speech are such. He finds they slip out more around you, than with others. He’s comfortable with, he is happy to share himself, his culture with you and it...it is a startling discovery about himself. He has been insular and closed off for longer than he would like to admit. 

“I can’t speak it and I..I don’t know it well, but, I recognise the cadence. I grew up in Naboo and there was a Mandalorian there, she used to speak it when I would sit and practice my letters with her.” Atin’a Caivass was a kind woman to you even if she could be hard. She had been one of your teachers, always pushing you harder, to do better. Yet, it had never felt frustrating or like a chore, the Mandalorian had always made it a desire to impress her, but also to prove to yourself that you could. She had always been kind to you and the other children, gentle but firm, like you were one of her own. You saw similarities with how Din treated the children. He was kind and gentle, but never overlooked an opportunity to firmly correct their behaviour or mistakes. A perfect balance. Not too soft and not too harsh. 

“You never learnt?”

“She was very protective of it and I...I was always too afraid to ask.” You confess. You had always been fascinated with it, like any young child when faced with a new language, but you had always believed it something sacred, and had worried that you would offend her if you asked to learn. “Ad’ika? What does it mean?”

He can’t help but laugh at your pronunciation and sounds it out for you, “Ah-Dee-Kah, it means little one.” 

“Ah-dee-kuh?” You are even more beautiful, he thinks when you butcher his language, trying so hard to get it right that your eyebrows scrunch together and your eyes crinkle at the corners. 

“Ah-Dee-Kah” The little one squirms in his arms and he places him on the ground, only to watch him plunk himself on his bottom and play with the dirt. He had always had a fascination with dirt and rocks, more so than any of the toys he had actually brought or made him. 

“Ah-Dee-Kah”

“Perfect.” You smile blindingly at his praise and he wonders if he can forgo his job as sheriff and simply teach you Mando’a every minute of every day. “You can always ask. If you want to learn. It’s nice to hear it from another person’s lips, not just mine.”

“I would like that very much...maybe when you’re less busy? You’re rather booked up at the moment, what with being sheriff, storytime for the children, and building a schoolhouse. You’re a busy man, Din Djarin.”

“I like to keep my hands busy.” You look down at your feet before looking back up at him, unsure how to respond to what you were sure was meant as a perfectly innocent comment. Din almost swears, osik, once he realises how that sounds, lifting hand to the back of his neck to rub it. 

The silence that you fall into isn’t uncomfortable necessarily, but feels almost solid, like a physical thing and not just the quiet that comes with two people not talking for a moment. There’s a tension there that is not wholly unpleasant but hard to describe or pin down. 

Seeming to remember the pail of water you’re carrying you place it in front of him, “Water, so you can clean off or if you’re thirsty. There’s some pastries somewhere as well, to keep you all fed...Can’t have you keeling over on us or else we’d never get our schoolhouse.” 

You take a step back and cast your gaze around, making note of where each of your 15 kids are. You’re caught watching Jerome splash water on Annie, about to go and tell him off when you hear splashing much closer to you. 

You thought he couldn’t excite you more than he already had. Thought that Din Djarin couldn’t possibly tempt you more, cause your well-mannered sensibilities to crumble further. You were utterly, terribly, ridiculously wrong. 

There’s something to be said about the man pouring half a pail of water over his head to rub away the sweat and dirt from a hard day working in the summer sun. He flicks his head back, long neck outstretched as water droplets fall like mirror glass over his tanned skin. His hair sticks to his skin, kissing it in a way you realise you desperately want to and his shirt clings to broad shoulders with the familiarity of a lover. 

You spin back around away from him flustered, determined not to look as you march towards Jerome. You decide in that moment that perhaps it’s best not to bring pails of water at lunch time. You might just not survive to see the school built. 

                                                   ---------------------

For the next two months your routine features lunch time trips with the children to bring water and sometimes food to the men building the schoolhouse, and the odd afternoon story time hour when Din feels confident enough to leave the others to continue working without his guidance. Each day the schoolhouse comes together more and more and each day you fall a little bit more in...in whatever these feelings for the sheriff were. 

You also have the startling realisation that Grogu has wormed his little way into your heart in a way that none of your other students have. You have a soft spot for the little boy, especially as he becomes more vocal, begins to say more little words, including the delightful name ‘Miss Y/N’. 

Din is a temptation in himself, each time he teaches you another word or phrase in Mando’a and his lips wrap around syllables or every time he works hard to build the schoolhouse muscles pulling taut underneath the weight of wood. He tempts you in a way that no one ever has and you can’t quite explain what it is about this man that makes you desire to be in his presence, to kiss him, to hold him, to be close to him both physically and emotionally. You want to know everything about him, to understand him better than you understand yourself. 

In some ways it is a relief when the schoolhouse is finished and in other ways it feels like a loss. Part of your routine, part of the day where you always see Din was no longer needed or necessary.

When you bring the children over at lunch time, it’s to show them the finished building, the one they’ll be in come Monday morning once you have the time to move all the books and other odds and ends into it. They’re all excited as are you, to see it...it strikes you in the heart so badly that you can’t move your feet, can only stare at the building with tears in your eyes. 

It’s beautiful. Not large, but larger than the old one. Freshly painted white, with a school bell hanging out front. It strikes you that this isn’t just a schoolhouse, but it’s your schoolhouse. Din had been adamant about building it for you. 

“Children, why don’t you go inside and take a look? You’ll be here on Monday!” You wave them all off as they run ahead and up the wooden steps, throwing the door open none too gently. “Careful! We only just got it!” You call out and receive a series of sorries back. 

“Shall we go find your buir?” You look down at Grogu, who’s hand is holding the heavy fabric of your skirt. He smiles up at you and nods his head with a quick little ‘papa’ that has your heart warming. 

You hear him before you see him, “Now don’t go breaking the tables when we’ve only just put them together, girls!” Already laying down the law to 3 of your children as you enter the schoolhouse. They had seemingly been swinging on tables in a most ill-mannered fashion that has you putting on your teacher-face and raising an eyebrow at them from behind Din. They promptly stop and return their feet to the floor with an abashed look.

“Sorry, Sheriff. Sorry Miss.” They call to you both before scurrying away in hopes of avoiding punishment, leaving you, Din and Grogu alone in the main room for the building. You let it go. It isn’t an issue, they need to learn to respect things, and not damage them, but that does not have to come at the cost of punishment when a quick look and a reminder does enough. 

Din spins at them calling out to you, faster than he seems to have expected, looking decidedly dizzy for a second before the mask of sheriff falls right back into place. 

“Y/N, how do you like it?” He opens his arms wide and gestures to the main room of the schoolhouse. A large blackboard already nailed to the wall at the back, rows of tables and chairs set up so every child could see you. A desk at the front for your things. It is sweet and fits your needs infinitely better than a saloon ever would. You even note the bookcases along the walls, enough space to place many of your books for the children to have easy access for when they wish to learn something more than you could teach them. 

“It’s...it’s wonderful, Din. It’s beautiful. I...I can’t thank you enough...I...I’m a little lost for words.” You can feel the happy tears starting to pool in your eyes again, the gratitude making you a little bit emotional. “I don’t think I can ever repay you for this.”

“You...you don’t need to repay me, Mesh’la. This...you and the children deserve a school, a place to teach and learn. You don’t have to thank me or repay me for doing what the damn mayor should have done in the first place.”

You nearly don’t do it. Nearly let that fear that wells up inside you and the proper manners, the belief that you were about to be far too forward than was ladylike, stop you. But, you think back to his kindness, his gentle nature, the calm and order he’s brought to town. The son of his that you have a large soft spot for. The handsomeness of his features, the sharpness of his profile. The gentle hand he always places on your back as he helps escort you somewhere. The respect he shows you at every turn and his willingness to share his culture and upbringing with you. You think of all the things that make up the Din Djarin you know and you think of what he has come to mean to you. 

With a silent prayer and an apology to your late headmistress for being more forward than is ladylike, you push yourself forward and into him. Lips soft and chaste lifting to meet his, only briefly. You do not push for more than a second of contact, but it is enough, you hope, to get the thought and intent across. That he is someone you would like to get to know more, that he is someone you could happily be courted by, even marry one day.  

He doesn’t even have time to blink, it happens so fast. One minute you are standing a few steps away from him thanking him, the next your lips are pressed to his in the shortest sweetest kiss he’s ever had the pleasure of being on the receiving end of. It takes another second for him to realise what’s happened before he’s reaching a hand out to cup the nape of your neck and drag your lips back to his for a significantly more substantial kiss that leaves you a little breathless. 

When you pull away from each other you don’t go far. Din presses his forehead to yours, hawkish nose pressing into your cheek, a soft touch that grounds you with his presence. The hand at your neck, rubs a soothing thumb across your skin. Your own have chosen to grasp at the suspenders over his shoulders, to keep in close proximity. 

“I’d very much like to court you, Miss Y/N.”

“I think i’d like that, sheriff.” 

                                                   ---------------------

Mando’a Translations

 Meg Ba'jurir - roughest way I could get to someone who educates or a teacher with meg being who and ba’jurir being educate

Osik - Shit

Vor entye - Thank You

Ad - son

Ad’ika - Little one, term of endearment for small children

Buir - Father also Mother basically parent. 

Mesh’la - Beautiful

Aliit - Family (Clan)

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@lex-ham​

[evolutionsvoid]

I feel that the creatures of the volcanic deserts (AKA obsidian deserts) are a group that is hardly known by the outside world. You get a lot of talk about the beasts that live in jungles, or the monsters that live in the vast labyrinth of the Underworld, but not a lot of people mention these creatures. I would be interested in knowing how many people are even aware they exist! I feel if I asked anyone what a Shockscale or Flab Rat was, they would think I was either talking about a magic thing or an insult. Volcanic deserts are rare biomes, but there are other uncommon ones that people seem pretty knowledgeable of! So why don't people talk about them? Well, one theory is that volcanic deserts frequently get confused with other volcanic deserts, by that I mean dry land plus volcano. So when folk hear about them, they are confused which is which. Or in some cases, they may go visit it to see what the excitement is about and just find an arid piece of land by a lazy smoldering mountain. Not really all that interesting. Or it could be that people don't think deserts have anything in them, as that often happens with regular ones! I have surprised a lot of people whenever I prattle on about all the creatures that live in deserts, as they assume it is a barren wasteland! So perhaps they feel the same for volcanic deserts. These are legitimate theories, but I would like to submit my own! I would say that no one really talks about the flora and fauna of volcanic deserts because those ecosystems are absolutely awful to visit and nobody in their right mind would ever set root in one! Grating sand! Razor stone! Nonstop wind and lightening! It is a nightmare! Every sane explorer would turn back the second they watched a dune explode into a black shower of bladed chunks and crackling energy! They would see the utter misery this landscape brings and think "why not try the next one?" Sadly, not all who explore are levelheaded, and not all who seek knowledge are smart. By the way, have you guessed where I am writing this entry? I got to have something to do while I cower in this obsidian tube and wait for the apocalypse to ease up outside.   My gripes aside, it is a darn shame that these creatures get overlooked. This biome, harsh and cruel it may be, has created some incredible species and the world deserves to know their presence! By writing this down and informing others, I also do the service of granting this knowledge so others don't have to suffer like I did! In most cases, I would encourage my readers to go out and see these incredible sights themselves, but here I am fine with them reading it in a book and looking at all the pretty pictures. So, with that, get a nice drink, find someplace cozy and not full of sand to sit, and read on! This entry is on a rather peculiar beast of these horrible lands: the Shockscale Urchin! The Shockscale Urchin (or just Shockscale) is a terrestrial version of those spiny little balls you find in the ocean, preferring the sandy places that have a whole lot of fire and lightening. Like sea urchins, they do look like a moving mound, though they are decked out in scales instead of spines. This image is possible because the underside of the urchin is where their feet are, hidden under all those beautiful scales. Down below is also where its mouth is, so its topside is really a featureless looking pile of scales. This simplicity, however, has its beauty, which can be seen in its magnificent scales! Mixes of purple and black on these sturdy, metallic scales! While many are small, they grow larger and thicker as they move down and away from the body. Anchored in special muscles, these outer scales sweep out from the body and form structures that seem more fitting for birds! Metallic wings and a fanning tail are formed from these scales and controlled by muscles.  Despite their appearance, they cannot fly, as they are too heavy and not built for such an action. They don't so much flap but sweep and flow as the Shockscale moves and dances. With such beautiful and hardy scales, one would most certainly want one as a souvenir! Finding such a memento would seem rather thrilling, and easy too! If you are ever in a volcanic desert (first of all, have you listened to nothing I have said?) and wander the dunes, you would find some of these scales left in the sand. In some cases, you may watch a Shockscale crawl along and shed some of these scales as they navigate the chaotic terrain. At first glance, you would think yourself lucky! Here is a pretty trinket, let me just reach down and grab it! If you find yourself in this situation, pray that you have a smarter friend nearby ready to tackle you away from this enticing treasure. Hopefully you aren't wondering why I would say this, because I feel the name of this species should give a whole lot away.

  Just like the landscape, which is constantly ravaged by violent storms, the Shockscale harnesses the power of lightening! Special organs within their bodies are capable of producing some series shocks, which means they don't have to rely on absorbing lightening like the Elmis Spire. This means that they cannot run out of this energy, as long as they have the strength to use these organs! By putting them at full charge, the Shockscale is capable of creating a shock that will knock you off your roots and fry your leaves! This effect is powered up because they are coated in these metallic scales, making it so much easier for them to zap you! Thankfully, though, this can only happen if you touch or step on one, right? Good news for them and bad news for us, the answer is: No! The amazing thing about the Shockscale is that they are able to weaponize this electricity in a rather ingenious way! The scales they shed are not lost by accident, they drop them on purpose! That is because these scales are really conductive and practically pull the electricity in. If the Shockscale releases its energy near these fallen scales, the lightening will jump from its body to these lost pieces! That means if you grab a scale while one of these urchins are nearby, there is a chance they will fry you! Like I said, these dropped scales are not by accident, the Shockscale actually uses them! These creatures tend to have territories they stick to, and here they do their hunting. They will sweep their "wings" in a circle and leave a ring of fallen scales. Moving to the center, they will bury themselves in the black sand and wait. When prey blunders through this practically invisible circle, the Shockscale will start zapping! Caught between the source and the energy-hungry scales, the electricity will flow through you while it makes its journey! The power of this shock is enough to drop a full grown human, as it messes with your nervous system and muscles. If you watch prey get caught in this shock trap, you will see them suddenly convulse and drop to the ground. They will twitch and writhe as the energy flows through them, as falling over unfortunately causes one to absorb even more of this shock. In most cases, the prey is killed by this powerful effect, and the Shockscale will emerge to claim its meal. The urchin will crawl atop its prey and use its hidden mouth to devour them. While Shockscales tend to fry smaller creatures, they are quite opportunistic. Anything that wanders into their territory is fair game, and the hungrier they are, the more likely they are to take risks. Even if huge creatures stomp through their circle, they will still shock them despite the fact they know it won't kill them. This is more of a deterrent, as the Shockscale would prefer not to get stepped on. I imagine this sudden way to go is part of the reason this ecosystem is believed to be cursed. How else would you explain someone suddenly convulsing and then dropping dead? Demonic possession? A smiting from the gods? Or perhaps a hungry echinoderm...     In most cases, the Shockscale uses its scales to create this deadly perimeter for both offense and defense. Here it can lay in safety as it waits for food to arrive. However, there are some instances where the Shockscale will use its scales in a different pattern. When traveling, the urchin will be without its special circle. In this state, a predator may try to attack them, assuming the creature is without its usual defense. Since its takes time and precision to properly set up its trap, the Shockscale will be caught off guard. In some cases, it might just hunker down and rely on its own electric body for defense. Some have seen, however, times when the Shockscale "flees," which is odd because they don't move that fast. The urchin will try to run for its life, but the predator will have no trouble keeping up. Obviously, the beast will not jump right in and take a bite, as the urchin will just fry them. Most attackers would tend to hang back and wait for a vulnerable moment. Stalking behind the fleeing Shockscale, they will wait for the right moment to strike and then suddenly drop dead. Turns out, the Shockscale wasn't running. When they "retreat," they are actually dropping scales behind them as they move. They know that their abilities work by proximity, and most predators won't get close enough to zap. So by leaving a breadcrumb trail of scales, they are setting up a devious trap. The predator will be lured forward with the idea that they have the advantage, causing them to walk atop this line of scales. By releasing its energy, the lightening will chain itself through these scales and fry the attacker. Pretty clever! With this defense, there isn't much that can really mess with this species! The only predation I have witnessed so far was by a pack of Flab Rats, whose rubbery hides offer protection from most shocks. Even then, they have to be sure the Shockscale is dead before they take a bite! All the insulation in the world doesn't matter if you jam the lightening bolt into your mouth! Same goes for knives, you little monsters. Though they are quite dangerous, there is elegance to found in these incredible creatures! The beautiful wings are for more than just dropping scales, they actually use them for dance! When mating season comes around, the males will begin to wander the dunes. They do not seek a spot to congregate, rather they seem to move in different directions. I have heard that they are influenced by the sun, moon and stars, using them to guide their way, but I have not fully confirmed that. As they wander, they will let their wings out to the full span and spin around. There is some kind of pattern and design to this dance, as they thrash back and forth or twirl, but no one has truly decoded it. What we do know is that this moving ballet leaves behind something quite gorgeous! Their movements and wings create patterns in the obsidian sand, and their trail is formed from this delicate art! If you are walking the dunes during the breeding season, you will see entire swathes of the landscape turned into a magnificent canvas! These artistic trails are for the females, who are also moving about. When a female crawls over these paths, they can feel and detect its pattern. It seems they can learn a lot about the male from the art he leaves behind, and this will decide if he is worthy or not. If the design is lacking, she will move on, but if it is a masterpiece, she will follow it. Since she is not slowed by the need for dance, she will soon catch up with the twirling male and the two will undergo the next step of courtship. The trail he left behind was meant to get her in the door, now this part is how he gets her to stay! Together, the two shall dance and spin around each other, with the male seeking to impress and the female silently judging. The male must perform the right moves and hit the right timing to have a chance with her. If he bungles it, she will leave and search elsewhere. If he succeeds, the two will mate and part ways. She will go off to lay her eggs deep within the dunes, while he will continue his dance and search for other females. The thing that always gets me with this particular way for attracting mates is how delicate the whole process is. They are doing all this communication through sand art, despite the fact this landscape is ravaged by storms at an almost constant rate. A powerful gust of wind will easily erase all traces of this act, so how do they make it work? One solid theory is that Shockscales breed during seasons when the storms are at their slowest (which I think means they come every six minutes rather than five). This gives them longer times to let their art survive and catch attention, before it is blown away and they have to start over. Others say that the Shockscales also leave scented scales or pheromone along their trail, which the female can still follow if the patterns are erased. Whatever the reason, they somehow make it work! Though the Shockscales are not mentioned a lot by everyday folk, just like a lot of fauna from volcanic deserts, there is something about them that has made it to many shores. In many places, you can hear superstitions and creepy tales about a land covered in darkness and ravaged by the wrath of the gods. This place is almost like purgatory, covered in lava and black blades. What makes this place even creepier are the "symbols" and "runes" left by some unknown culture. Those who have entered this inhospitable land have mentioned grand designs etched into the dunes, patterns and symbols that are alien to many eyes and tongues. All of this, and yet not a single soul is seen! Despite this, the patterns are blown away, but then suddenly remade! How can this be?! Is there some kind of civilization hidden within this terrible world, writing these alien words in the sand? Or is it the result of spirits and demons, roaming the world of fire and lightening? Perhaps it is something more confusing and frightening. You see, these patterns can reach such amazing sizes and intricacy, yet you would struggle to fully appreciate it on the ground. A mural carved into the landscape can only be viewed in one way: from above! Are these symbols made for or by angels? Are they the markings of entities high above our heads? What do they stand for? What do they mean? There are many tales and theories about these bizarre patterns, and I have heard them all! Truly bewildering stuff! I have had people talk my ears off about these crazy conspiracies, and all I can think during these lectures is: "Is this what its like?" The real bummer of it all is that whenever I join in and add my theories, everyone gets all sour. They spin an endless yarn about symbols of angels and the writing of the gods, but then I offer the translation of "Heeeeey, ladies! Wanna dance?" and suddenly I'm the nut job. Chlora Myron Dryad Natural Historian   ----------------------------------------------------- A creature design brainstormed between my friend @james-silvercat and me! I can't remember how we started on this, but at some point we were talking about my volcanic deserts and shingle urchins! Wound up being a really cool creature and a really cool design!  

[demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol]

Bedtime Reassurances

[image credit to @aloneandblueascanbe​, pls let me know if you want it removed!]

pairing: frankie morales x gn!reader

words: 1.8k

content: one innuendo / reference to sex so 18+ only please, job related anxiety, mentions of a pandemic, one bad word, i switch from present and past tense sorry, another comfort fic but at this point is anyone surprised, soft gentle touches, verbal affirmations, frankie just being the best most encouraging bf in the world

a/n: okay so this is very similar to the other frankie fic i wrote, but i actually wrote this one first and this one has some lines that im really proud of, so i figured i’d share this one anyways!! i hope y’all enjoy this, and thank you so SO much to everyone who read my first frankie fic, seriously i cannot believe how much interest it got and i am constantly blown away by how incredible y’all are 💜💜💜 p.s. my taglists are a mess rn so don’t feel obligated to interact, and pls speak up if you want to be added or removed!

Frankie hums under his breath a little as he walks up the stairs. The two of you had just finished watching a new movie and his spirits were pretty high (although part of that might have been because of your reactions to the movie- your laughter, your smiles, your head bobbing to the catchy music). He flicked off the hallway light before entering you room, at which he promptly paused at seeing you perched on the bed wiping your eyes.

“Sweetheart?” he questions, and you look over at him before sitting up and blinking furiously. “Hey, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” He quickly takes a few steps over to you, but his hands hover by your sides to gauge your reaction to his sudden nearness before moving forward to slide them around your back. The last thing he wanted to do was move too fast and cause you to flinch.

“It’s nothing, I’m fine, I was just-,” you cut yourself off to take a stuttery inhale and a shaky exhale. “Just thinking, it’s not even related to anything.” Frankie tilted his head at you sympathetically as his mouth twisted into a small smile.

“If it has you this upset, I know it’s not nothing,” he paused, giving you a moment to process his words. “[y/n]” he whispered, and at hearing your name you look up to meet his eyes. “It’s me,” he said, with nothing but love and concern in his eyes. “You can talk to me. Please.” You blinked at him a couple times, and took a deep breath.

“I, um,” you stuttered and turned your eyes down, and you felt Frankie’s hand rub up and down your back. After a few deep breaths, you spoke. “I just started thinking about work again, and job hunting has been so stressful. And it all seems so scary. And I know it’s not, and I know I’m overthinking it, but I’m just so tired of starting over. And I’m just tired of not feeling good enough. And I’m sure these feelings are way too complicated over just a new job, but I’m just tired of constantly doing different things, and I know this is just the adjustment period making me feel this way, but I just want to be good at something, just one thing, and just do that one thing long enough to actually feel good about how I do that thing,” you paused to take a few deep breaths and at some point during your rambling you must have grabbed onto Frankie because both of your hands were gripping the front of his shirt. You loosened your grip a little and in response he held you a little tighter. As you met Frankie’s eyes for the first time, you couldn’t help but let out the small whimper at the pure understanding and love from him. It’s still so hard to believe that someone could look at you like that even in such a state. He brought one of his hands up to cup your cheek, and the other one wrapped around your waist.

“I’ve got you,” he said, and there was no way to not believe him when he was looking at you like that. “Just let it all out.”

“I’m afraid, but I’m also tired of being afraid, and I’m tired of not being good enough, and I’m just tired,” you laughed a little, even as tears filled your eyes. “I just want to be good enough.” Frankie’s heart cracks at your words, and as your eyes fill with tears, he feels his eyes start to sting too.

“Mi corazón. I promise you, every single person around you can see just how hard you’re trying. I know sometimes it’s hard for you to see, but every day I am in awe of just how much you do.” He sees your face scrunch up in the telltale way when you try to argue with him, so he tilts down to give you a soft kiss, and when he pulls away he can tell that put you in enough of a daze for him to keep going without you interrupting. “Despite what you struggle with, you get up and you help others, and you work on bettering yourself as a person, and you get stronger and kinder and more loving every single day. And every day I am beyond thankful that you let me into your life, that I get to be with you in the big moments and in the small moments, that I get to experience life through your eyes, because you see the world in such a way that it makes me feel so so young.” That gets a small smile from you, and now Frankie feels like he’s on a roll. “You’re kind to me and you’re kind to strangers and you’re even learning to be kind to yourself. You’re taking on the challenge of becoming a better person while also going after a new job while also doing it during a freaking pandemic.” Your breath hitches at that and while he doesn’t want to upset you, he never wants to upset you, he needs you to know this. “You think you’re behind everyone but you are leagues ahead in areas that some people aren’t gonna realize are important until years from now. And you’re doing that in a world where that isn’t the normal. And baby I am so proud of you,” he chokes up a little at that, and he sees worry creep up into your eyes as your hands come up to cup his cheeks, and ever so gently stroke the spot just below his eyes, already ready to wipe away any tears that might stray. “You are a wonderful person, a wonderful friend, and an even more wonderful lover. And I want you to go to bed, and wake up, and spend every minute of every day knowing that I love you so much and that there is so much good in you, and that you are stronger than any of your fears or anxieties or reservations, and that if you ever feel stuck I will always-,” he bumps his forehead against yours and he looks at you so head on that in that moment you feel he is looking straight into you, that he really does see everything he says he does, “-always, be right there by your side helping you out of the situation because I. Love. You.”

The first thing you noticed were his hands on your face, mostly because the pressure had increased, not in an uncomfortable way, just in a more noticeable way. And then you noticed the way his chest was moving, like saying everything he did genuinely winded him. And then you noticed his eyes, which if your being honest was probably the first thing you noticed because there’s no way not to: their deep, rich color with more depth than any other eyes you’ve ever seen, the almost imperceptible sparkle to them, because somehow this man’s eyes just sparkle, and the way that his eyes are the definition of love and compassion and trust, because there is no other way to describe them.

“Oh my gosh,” you whisper, because how on earth do you respond to that? As you wrap your arms around the back of his neck again and drag him down to kiss him, he pulls you closer as your lips touch and you press further into him because the need to have him so impossibly close is overwhelming. He breaks away for only a second before leaning back in, and he tilts you back to deepen the kiss. Your legs come up to wrap around his and he lowers you slowly all the way down onto the bed. When you break away you keep your hands firmly locked around the back of his head, keeping his forehead pressed to yours as you both catch your breath. “I love you so much,” you finally say, keeping your eyes locked on his. “I love you so dang much and sometimes I still can’t believe you’re here, with me, in our house, with me.”

“You better believe it baby, cuz there’s no getting rid of me,” his mouth cracking into a lazy smile as he nudges his strong nose against yours.

“Never,” you say, much more seriously than his joking tone warrants, but you need him to know, especially after everything he said. “I never want to get rid of you. I need you. I love you.” His eyes soften and while his teasing tone leaves, his smile never does.

“You’ll make it through this sweetheart, I promise. I’m here every step of the way.”

You beam at him, “Thank you Frankie. For everything. Everything.” Your eyes start to droop and he places a quick kiss on your nose before backing away to pull down the covers. You crawl up to the pillows, barely even acknowledging your own side in favor of his. He chuckles and crosses over to the other side, and when he’s under he cuddles you close before pulling up the blanket and securing it around you. “Tomorrow’s a new day, and somebody needs their beauty sleep to tackle their to do list.” You hum contentedly, wrapping your arms around him and slotting your head under his chin. His arms wrap around yours as he presses a kiss to your forehead and noses your hair.

“Well, you are definitely on my to do list because holy shit someone deserves some good sex for what you said,” you half mumble under your breath, and as Frankie breaks into a laugh he tries not to jostle you too much, but you caught him off guard and now he’s pretty much full on laughing, in the way that makes your heart clench a little because you love him and his beautiful laugh so dang much, the laugh that gives you so much pride because you’re the one that made it happen. When he settles down he pulls away slightly to look at you, and you are positively beaming at him, clearly proud of that joke you were able to come up with half asleep.

“Well there’s my [y/n],” he says in that deep raspy voice that only makes you smile more. He leans in to give your forehead a slow kiss.

“Thanks for finding me,” you whisper as you look up at him.

“Ehh, you’ve trusted me with most of your hiding spots, so I’ve gotten pretty good.” You prop yourself up on your elbow and place your hand on the side of his face to get a good look at him.

“But seriously Frankie, thank you. You always know exactly what to say, and I am so unbelievably grateful for you in so many ways.” His face goes as soft as he turns to give your palm a soft kiss, and you lean in one more time to kiss him properly before resuming your position. He gives you a gentle squeeze and it isn’t long until you’re drifting off to sleep in the arms of your love.

tag list: @keeper0fthestars​, @scribbledghost​, @icanbringyouincold​, @bestintheparsec-reads​, @ezrasarm​, @andriecastana​, @tweedlydumbtweedlydoo​, @murdermewithbooks​, @remmysrecs​, @lv7867​

[starsstruck]

reclining venus

a friends-to-lovers in where photographer!mc is incited on a getaway in italy along with harry. golden sunsets, finished bottles of wine, and late night sketching.

pairing: harry x reader words:18.5k rated: M

an: after years i am back with something new ! hope everyone enjoys and tell let me know what you think ! would mean the world to me 💖💖 enjoy ! xoxo 💖 askbox  💖

                                                              ***

“I’m king of the world!”

Lazily looking up, the sun leaving your eyelids heavy. The sight of Harry standing near the edge of the small wooden boat, you smiled softly as you watched the way the breeze made his half-buttoned blue shirt blow behind him, and pushed some of his curls into his face. You couldn’t help the smile that pulled at the corner of your lips.

Your mind drifted, thinking that in that moment he bore resemblance to Hugh Grant’s character in Bridget Jones Diary, standing up on a boat, on the verge of falling over. 

As if reading your mind, you watched his head turn as he met your gaze, wide grin across his face as he quoted the movie that was just on your mind. Letting out a breathy laugh, you matched his smile as you could just get a peek of his eyes behind his dark sunglasses.

“Gonna tip us over,” your voice was soft, as you sunk back to your albeit uncomfortable position, back and bum on the hardwood.

The small getaway to the north of Italy was one that you weren’t expecting, but had gladly agreed to. You had never been to visit the lakes and mountains in the north of the country, and had immediately fallen in love with Orta San Giulio.

You had been working with Harry for nearly two years now. First meeting him when you were working for the studio that shot the cover for his first solo album. You still remember very clearly rushing into work that day, immediately busying yourself once you had gotten in, having seen the plans for the set up.

Not noticing him in that large studio space at first, you had been in the middle of moving a softbox across the room when you had stumbled into him. You remember your mouth hanging open as an arm reached out to steady you, asking you if you needed a hand. He wasn’t even supposed to be on set yet, things were still being put in place but he had come earlier was chatting with people around the set. You hadn’t talked to him again until the very end of the day, when you, your boss and Harry had filtered through the many images of the day. You had been surprised by how easy the two of you had gotten along. The two of you had chatted away, he had even asked to see pictures from your portfolio.

You had seen him a couple times after that day, even grabbing lunch with him when the two of you were both too hungry to keep working. But what had really surprised you was when you got a call, and was asked to join him on tour. You had shown him some of the minor concert photography you had done, never really considering doing it full time.

Yet you still agreed.

After tour, there were periods where you would go some months without seeing each other, but you would always be called up and asked to help with a shoot. And now you found yourself, asked to come to Italy for what was described to you as “a vacation, maybe we’ll do a shoot. Maybe not. Just some time off!”

Again, you had agreed, loving the time you spent with Harry and everyone, and yourself needing a little break. Taking advantage of the situation, you had actually given yourself an even longer vacation after the week was up. You were truly taking advantage of this time to relax.

You were so happy you had agreed to come, lake Orta seeming to come out of a dream. The small town of Orta San Giulio was right on the coast of the lake, mountains surrounding the body of water. Right in the middle of the narrow end of the lake and across from the town, rested a little island with beautiful buildings. A week to explore the space around, you guys had already gone walking through the mountains are were itching to see more.

Today was a bit more of a lazy day.

No one was that energetic to do anything big, the group splitting up. Both Harry and you had been looking into getting out to the water, finding a little rowboat rental company out on the dock. Neither of you were too keen on doing the majority of the rowing, deciding to stop and let the soft waves slowly drift you guys along the water.

It was so nice to float along the water, soft rocking leaving you calm. You rarely got a day to simply enjoy yourself, always having something going on that need to be worked on. You knew that soon you would need to return to the real world, leaving the small bubble you seemed to have created here in Italy. You knew Harry felt it as well. What with his constant busy schedule, you had definitely noticed a change in your friend.

His eyes didn’t hold the same bags they sometimes would, his shoulders not tensed. Even now, the way he stood tall, breathing in the fresh air around him, sun hitting his back. You wished you had your camera with you, even just your phone to take a picture of him, but had decided against bringing anything with you.

Just as you were basking in your relaxation, you were pulled back to reality. As predicted, Harry had managed to stumble from where he was standing. Instantly pulled from where your eyelids rested heavy, skin warm in the sun, you were suddenly met with a stark coldness.

Confusion clouding your mind for a split second as you suddenly found yourself submerged underwater, instinctively making your way up to the surface. 

“Ass,” you muttered as you coughed the bit of water finding itself trapped in your mouth. You saw Harry treading next to you, sunglasses having fallen off his face, eyes gleaming as he met your stare.

“My bad,” were the only words leaving his lips, as he chuckled to himself softly, hand moving up to push some hair out from his face. 

You coughed again, as you watched Harry turn away from you, and swim up to where your boat was now flipped over. Grabbing hold of it, he turned back to face you, concern now lacing his features.

“Alright?”

Nodding, you swam over to join him, hand resting on the flipped boat. “Yeah, yeah.” Muttering, although you bit at the smile starting to form. “Just be glad we decided not to take anything with us. It’d be lost by now.” 

“Think I lost my shades,” Harry nodded, hand moving to where they used to lay perched on his nose.

“That’s what you get.” You couldn’t even feign annoyance towards him, laugh tumbling out after the words left your mouth. “Give me a hand here,” you changed the subject, as you tried to push back the boat upright. 

Succeeding, you were now faced with the challenge of how exactly to get back in. “I’ll help y’a out,” Harry said next to you, once again reading your mind. You nodded, as you placed your hand on the edge of the boat, hoping that you had enough strength to pull yourself up. One hand still holding onto the wooden boat for support, Harry stuck out his other hand under the water, motioning for you to use it as a step to help you up. 

Shakily, you tried to hoist yourself up, feeling Harry pushing you up from under your foot. Managing to get one leg halfway over, you knew you must look completely ridiculous at the moment as you tried to not so gracefully get out of the water. Body suddenly jolting, as you felt a firm hand on your bum, giving you the last push you needed before successfully getting back into the boat. 

“I’ve got half a mind to leave you here, if you can’t keep your hands off my ass.” Teasing, as you looked down to where Harry still floated in the water next to you.

“Just trying to help y’a out, love.” He shot back, small shrug on his shoulders. You watched as his tongue darted out of his mouth, licking his lips. You felt your cheeks warm, hoping there was enough sun in his eyes for him not to notice.

It was always like this with Harry. As you guys started working together more often, your relationship had always been friendly. Although, there was always a little flirtatious aspect to your relationship. You usually brushed it off, knowing Harry was like this with a lot of people, that you shouldn’t read too much the cheeky comments that were directed your way. 

But then there were the nights where Harry would keep his hand on your leg as you sat next to him, the nights where he pulled at you to sit closer. For all the times you would spend the night with him, of course always having a reason for why it was the most convenient, but maybe neither of you wanted to say that you wanted to spend the night in each other’s arms. 

The two of you were both the type of people who enjoyed embracing the people you cared about, small touches as signs of affection. So, it was only natural that when you shared a bed, Harry’s arm always ended up wrapped around you. Especially the nights where the pair of you had had a couple of drinks, Harry always being cockier and a bit grabbier. 

The night of Harry’s last show of his first solo tour, a warm summer night in Los Angeles. It was a happy night, Harry giving another amazing performance. You had always found yourself mesmerized with the way he was on stage. After the show had ended, you were backstage and already flipping through the images on your camera. 

There was a small party happening backstage, just a small thanks Harry was giving to everyone who had helped him with the album and the tour. Bottles of champagnes were passed around the room, as Harry was thanking members of his team personally. 

You had already had about two glasses of champagne before you finally got to talk to Harry yourself. He immediately wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in for an engulfing hug. 

“You were amazing,” you told him, voice quiet as your lips were near his ear. “Really amazing, tonight, this whole tour.” 

He pulled away from the hug, arms remaining around you. He was beaming, still on his high of performing and of all the love in the room for him. “Thank you, love.” He told you honestly. “And thank you for coming along, these shows can last forever because of your photography.” 

“Thank you,” you giggled at his words. “But I play no role in making the shows so incredible -” 

He cut you off before you could brush off his compliment. “Don’t say that, don’t even think it,” he was shaking his head at you. “You play a huge role. Can’t be where I am without you.” 

You knew his words were not completely true, but you didn’t try to fight him on it. “C’mon love,” Harry turned, arm still around your shoulders, “Let’s go celebrate.”

A group of you had headed out to some club in the city, more drinks passing between the bunch of you. Everyone was chatting away, excited, drunk, happy. Harry was seated next to you, arm around the back of your chair, hand once and a while grabbing at the skin of your arm.

You’d had no idea what time it was when you guys had decided to call it a night, head spinning and exhaust of the day finally catching up. You had stepped out before anyone, followed by Harry. He was once again pulling you in for a big hug, thanking you for the thousandth time that night. You giggled in his arms, as he pressed a kiss on the apple of your cheek.

But he didn’t move away. 

You felt his lips push more kisses onto your cheek, moving down to the corner of your jaw. They were light, spongey kisses, but they still made the breath stop in your throat. He paused beneath your earlobe; arms still tight around you.

You felt him press an open mouth kissed on the skin under your ear, hot breath against you sending shivers down your spine. Lips hovering, teeth dragging over your skin, hips jutting against yours. Just as quickly as it had started, it ended. He had untangled himself from you in a flash, as the rest of your group joined you outside.

You tried to control the flush growing on your neck, thinking it best to brush it off as the two of you were intoxicated and just affectionate people. But still you couldn’t shake the feeling of his lips on your skin.

You felt the boat rock once again as Harry put his weight to one side, trying to lift himself up. He held out a hand towards you, as he found himself in the same position you had been. “Help me out, will ya?” He exhaled, looking up to meet your eyes.

Wordlessly reaching out, own hand wrapping around his wrist as you tugged him towards you. Falling into the curve of the boat next to you, Harry let out a sigh as he caught his breath. Now out of the water and aware of the clothes that clung to his body uncomfortably, Harry leaned his head against the edge of the boat, head turning to face you. 

Mirroring his motions, you closed your eyes and let out a content hum. “Kind of nice actually, the feeling of the fresh water.” You murmured, sun heating up your skin once again as the two of you sat in silence.

Harry watched you, watched your eyelids flutter and close as you faced the sun, watched as you extended your limbs to feel the warmth all over your body. He followed the drops of water that were coming from your shorts as they ran down your drying skin, his fingers itching to reach out and wipe them off. Eyes trailing up your torso, he glanced at where the wet fabric of your tank top clung so beautifully to your skin. The swell of your breasts so evident, as the wet fabric left nothing to the imagination. 

Fuck, Harry couldn’t help but immediately notice how evident it was that you were not wearing a bra. He told himself to look away, that he shouldn’t be looking at you like that, that it would make you uncomfortable if you could see the way his eyes were glued to your body.

“Should be heading back,” Harry muttered, willing the image of your breasts to leave his mind before blood rushed down to his cock. Looking away and pulling himself up from where he rested, the movement and his words having you open your eyes. 

“Yeah,” You nodded, eyelids already feeling heavy again, as you fell back into your state of relaxation. “I’m getting hungry.”

                                                              ***

After dinner and a bottle of wine, the group of you were settled on the small balcony, basking in the warm night. You were in the midst of talking about the work you did outside of photography, after had prompted you about the years you had spent in art school. 

Where photography was your favourite medium to work with, along with video, you were still quite fond of drawing and painting as well. Having to experiment with different modes of creation when you were in school, you took a big liking to drawing and painting. However, you found yourself not able to express what you wanted the way you could with photography, appreciating the mediums for the way you could create an image with your hands. 

Still, you enjoyed sitting down and drawing with your friends, or a little still-life in front of you for fun. You kept your serious work, and your most honest work in your photography. 

You finished off the last of the wine in your glass, deciding to go grab some more. You excused yourself as you stood and head to grab the bottle that was still inside. 

The presence of someone else in the room startled you, as you poured yourself another glass. “Didn’t know you did much drawing.” Harry’s voice was low as he passed his glass to you, wordlessly asking for more wine. 

“Never asked,” you grinned at him, handing him back his glass as you took a sip of your own drink. Cheeks already warm from the wine, you felt them get even warmer as Harry’s gaze lingered on you. “Nothing big,” you continued after Harry remained silent. “Just drawing for fun.” 

“Draw people?” His words were slightly slurred together, as he spoke quietly. He leaned on the counter next to you, close enough for you to feel the warmth coming from him. You silently wondered how much he had to drink, as he intensely held your gaze. 

“Yeah,” voice sounding small, you cleared your throat before continuing. “Friends, nice views or photos that I take. Sometimes I like to draw people I see when I sit at a cafe.”

“You think you could draw me?” 

Slightly taken aback by his words, the thought had never crossed your mind. “Yeah? Didn’t know you would want that.”

“Already taking so many pictures of me, why not some drawings as well?” He shrugged his shoulders, finally looking away from you as he glanced down at the glass in his hands, taking another sip, licking the wine off his lips. 

You bit your lips together as his words, fighting a smile. “Can't get enough of yourself, can you?” 

A smirk tugged at his lips. “That’s right, love.” 

“We can tonight if you want?” Harry continued, watching your face for any sign to tell him that he was pushing his luck. “Draw, watch a movie or something, just the two of us,” he looked down to his hands again as he trailed off.

“I miss you.” The words came so softly from his lips, you almost missed them. They sent a rush through your body, as he met your gaze once again.

“Harry,” you couldn’t help the small laugh that pushed past your lips. “We spent all day together.” 

“I know,” he drawled out his words. “But we’ll be leaving soon, and I won’t get to see you every day anymore. Want t’spend time with you.”

Biting your lip again at his words, as you fought the blush that was warming your neck. “So tonight, yeah?” 

“Tonight.” You nodded, eyes soft, arm playfully bumping his before heading back to the balcony, Harry following not far behind.

You rejoined the group, listening to the conversation you had walked in on. Your eyes wandered over to Harry, finding him already watching you. Passing him a small smile, as you drank your wine and moved your gaze to the view around you. You couldn’t tell if Harry was acting different tonight, or maybe it was just the exhaustion from a relaxing day, mixed with a little too much wine. 

Soon, everyone was heading back inside, finishing cleaning up and heading off to bed. Drowsy from a from a day in the sun, the wine not helping with heavy eyelids. After saying your goodnights, you headed to your room in the shared apartment. 

Quickly changing, you put on your pyjama shorts and an oversized teeshirt, skin still warm as the night didn’t get very cold. Grabbing some pencils from your bag, and a large pad of paper that you did most of your sketching on, you headed down the hall and gave Harry’s door three quiet knocks. 

His door swung open, eyes meeting yours. You took in his appearance, noticing he had also changed, wearing a pair of black shorts and nothing else. You walked past him and into his room, a small “hi” leaving your mouth as you willed your eyes not to linger on his bare chest next to you.

You stood in his dimly lit room, unsure of where to situate yourself. His room, like yours, was small, a bed in the middle of the room and a small desk a chair to the side of the room. Harry had his things sprawled out over the desk, and the floor for that matter, luggage poking out of the closet to your right. You moved to sit on the chair, before Harry called you over to where he had sat on the bed.

“Here’s fine.”

“You sure? Don’t want to get eraser shavings all over the sheets.” You smiled as he waved your comment off, patting the spot across from him. Making your way over to join him, you sat crossed legged across from him, sketchpad on your lap. You watched as he fiddled with his phone, as the first notes of a Mazzy Star song started playing.

Placing his phone next to him, he faced you. “How d’you want me?” 

“Up to you, whatever is comfortable.” Opening up your sketchpad to a new page, grabbing the pencil resting next to you. “I’m gonna start with some fast and simple sketches, feel free to change poses whenever you want.” 

Harry extended his legs across the mattress, feet just hanging over the edge as he rested his head in his hand. Laying on his side, he watched your eyes move along his figure in front of you. 

“Haven’t done a drawing session like this in a while,” you murmured, as you began drawing rough shapes onto your page, eyes flicking up to Harry every once and a while. 

“Not many offering to pose for you?” Harry’s voice was low, eyes watching your hands as they skilfully moved the pencil on the page. 

“No, nothing like that,” letting out a breathy laugh, the thought of doing something like this not even occurring to you since you were a student. “Just never really considered it. Years ago, some friends and I would have nights where we would draw each other, and then I had to do some for class, but nothing since then.” 

Harry hummed, curious about your days spent studying art. “Had to sit around some naked guy, while everyone drew him? Like in the movies?”

You laughed, knowing exactly the stereotypical movie scenes he was talking about. “Yeah, actually, I did have to do that.” 

You saw Harry’s eyebrows shoot up, teasing at first but surprised he had been right. “Really? Fully nude?” 

Nodding, you flipped over the pages in your sketchbook as you continued your quick sketches. “Usually had a couple days of life drawing like this, different models, always nude. Supposed to see how the body moves and all that.” 

“Sounds hot,” you glanced up at Harry at his words, holding back a laugh. 

“Not a lot of people getting hot and bothered in class drawing an old man, Harry.” 

“Old man,” Harry exclaimed, dimples popping on his cheeks. “Very hot. Did you like school?”

Nodding, you matched his smile. “Yeah,” you stopped drawing, thinking about his question. “Yeah, I mean as much as it was tough, I still couldn’t imagine myself doing anything else.” 

You watched Harry nod at your words, bottom lip between his teeth. “What about you? Ever think about what you would have continued to study?” 

His eyes met yours, slow nod as he thought it over. “I mean, yeah, of course I’ve thought about it but,” he paused again. “Who knows what I would be doing. Like you said, where I am now, I couldn’t imagine myself doing something else.” 

You smiled at his words, telling him you were going to start actually drawing him instead of just outlines and to try not to move too much. Harry continued to talk about aspirations he had when he was younger, what could have been if he had never become a musician. He chatted away, moving constantly but you never said anything, happy to listen to him. 

One thing you loved about drawing people, especially people you knew, was that it always made you notice new things about them. You had spent enough time staring at him, and at his face, all those hours you’d spent editing pictures of him. But as you had him bare chested in front of you, you took your time to take in all the ways his muscles moved under his skin, off all the tattoos that covered his chest and arms.

You found it endearing really, the way he wanted to have art all over his body. 

“Wan’ to move, that’s okay?” His voice broke you from your thoughts, looking up from the paper in front of you. 

“‘Course,” voice low, as you admired the drawing you had started. Flipping the pad over to a new page, you waited until Harry stopped shuffling on the bed in front of you. 

You were a bit taken aback when you looked up at Harry. He sat comfortably, back leaning against the backboard of the bed, legs pointed towards you. He faced you so directly, eyes concentrated on you. He had been facing you before, but it had been much more casual, as he rested his head in his head. 

There was something just a bit more, intimidating, about the way he sat in front of you. 

As you started another drawing, a comfortable silence fell between the two of you. You were putting extra attention into this drawing, it being a little easier as Harry wasn’t moving around as much as before.

About half an hour passed before Harry started mumbling about his back feeling sore, and you decided it was a good place to end, knowing that you could go on and on nitpicking over a sketch.

“Can I see?” 

You don’t know why Harry’s question made you pause. Of course he would want to see the drawings you had done of him. Yet, you found yourself hesitating to show him. It just seemed like such an intimate moment, and the idea of sharing the drawings, even sharing them the person that you had been drawing, seemed like too much. 

“I,” you paused, unsure of what to do or say. “Want finish some details on them. Show them to you soon, I promise.” The lie left your lips easily, mind easing as Harry nodded along. 

“Perfectionist, yeah?” He smirked, nodding in understanding. “‘Course, love. We can do this again and you’ll show them to me later, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded, biting back a smile. You don’t know why, the idea of Harry wanting to have you draw him again made you so happy.

“Want t’watch a movie, stay the night here?” His voice was quiet, smirk wiped from his face as he spoke tentatively. 

This time, you couldn’t help the smile that broke out. “Bridget Jones?” Ever since earlier that day as Harry recreated Hugh Grant’s actions on the boat from the movie, you had an itching to watch the whole film. 

He nodded along, very pleased that you had agreed. Harry quickly headed to the washroom as you moved up the bed and slid in under the thin sheets, the night too hot to need anything warmer. Harry quickly joined, grabbing his laptop and finding the movie to put on for the two of you. Pressing play, he shifted closer to you, one arm swinging around your back and pulling you in to him.

“That’s you,” you muttered, pointing to the screen when Hugh Grant fell from his boat into the water, right down to the blue shirt.

Harry shifted next to you, gazing down at you with eyebrows shot up. “Wha’? I’m a much better guy than he is.”

You beamed up at him, eyes slightly squinting to see him clearly in the dim room. “That’s true,” pausing, glancing between Harry and the character on screen. “Better looking than him too.”

Harry’s grin widened at your words. “Glad to hear it love.”

Placing your head back against his chest, you hummed as Harry’s fingers fiddling with the sleeve of your shirt, his grip around you tightening.

                                                              ***

Bare thighs hitting the hard material of the chair, you felt your dress ride up as you sat down around the table. Turning your head over your shoulder, you watched as Harry approached the table you guys had situated yourselves at, drinks in hand. 

“Gin and tonic for you,” Harry sat down next to you, knee bumping yours as he slid your drink over to you. Sipping his own drink, he watched as you picked up the lime from the rim, squeezing it so the juices from the fresh fruit dripped into your cup. Bring the wedge up to your lips, biting through the juices that remained in the fruit, before putting what was left of the wedge into your glass. 

Harry kept his eyes on your lips as you laughed at something Sarah said, as you tongue licked up the rest of the sour taste from your lips. Smiling to himself as he watched you repeat the same drink ritual for the hundredth time, as you seemed pleased with yourself after finally taking a sip.

“Can I try?” Your voice broke Harry out of his daze, as you pointed at the drink that he held. Passing his drink over to you, he chuckled to himself as you always asked to try what he was drinking. “You won’t like it.” 

Placing the glass to your lips, you quickly pulled it away after getting a small taste. Lips curving in distaste, your expression proving him right. “Mine’s better.” You nodded, passing his glass back to him, leaving a mark of your lipstick on the rim. 

You took another long sip of your drink, pleased with the way the cold liquid cooled you down, fingers wet from the condensation on the glass. Today the sun had been even hotter, leaving your skin warm and sticky after it set. 

The group of you fell into conversation, discussing various aspects of your day and of your time in Italy. Everyone seemed to have had a good time relaxing on this mini-vacation, no one wanting to leave the bubble you had created. 

“Have you figured out where you’re heading afterwards?” The question was directed at you, as you still had some time off after the shoot you had finished. The rest of them had to head to London, but you decided to take advantage of this much needed break.

“France,” you said, finishing off your drink. “Up to the mountains. Around the Alps. And then maybe the south for a couple days.”

You were looking forward to do some exploring on your own. Your work allowed you to travel, which was something you were beyond grateful for, but you rarely got the time to slow down and full explore the places you were in. You had been itching to come back to Italy and France, pleased that you finally could. 

As conversation settled on places traveled to and where was wanted to visit next, you excused yourself to the washroom and to go grab another drink, not feeling the effect of your first drink yet. Fixing your lipstick and blotting the dewy skin on your face, you headed from the washroom to the bar, ready for another drink.

Using your albeit rough Italian skills, you got yourself another gin and tonic. You felt a bit silly, getting a drink that you could order anywhere in the world, in a country that had such great wine. But you told yourself that it was better to buy a bottle, rather than an expensive glass at a bar. 

Waiting for your drink, and lost in your thoughts of which alcohol was the best bang for your buck, you failed to notice Harry come stand next to you at the bar. Hand sliding to the small of your back, lips hovering over your ear. 

“Getting another drink?” His voice was low, but you could still clearly hear him over the loud space around you. “Choose one for me?”

Before you could say anything to Harry, your drink appeared in front of you. Leaning in to talk to the bartender again, ordering Harry the same drink that you had been drinking all night. 

“You’re going t’have dreamy frenchmen hanging all over you in France.” He said as the two of you waited for his drink.

Breathy laugh coming from your mouth at his comment, you shook your head. “No way. I’m taking time for myself,” looking down at your drink, lime coating your fingers. “Just relaxing.”

“You gonna be okay by yourself?” Harry thanked the bartender, handing them some folded euros, eyes roaming back to yours.

“‘m a big girl, Harry.” You beamed, sipping your drink after adding your lime. 

Humourless chuckle escaping his mouth, he nodded. “I know, I know. Just worry about you is all.” 

You watched as Harry grabbed his lime wedge between his fingers, lifting it up to hold it in front of your mouth, silently telling you to take it between your teeth.

Obeying, you watched his smirk deepen as you grabbed the lime with your teeth. Thumb brushing against your lip as he pulled his hand away. He brought the same thumb to his own mouth, licking off any remaining juices from the sour fruit. Biting into the lime, you pulled the wedge out of your mouth, placing the slice into your own drink. You held his gaze, face feeling unbelievably hot. 

“Are you worried?” You teased, going back to what you guys were talking about before your little lime induced staring contest. “Or jealous.”

Harry shook his head, breaking your gaze. His hand came back down to the small of your back, leading you away from the bar and back to where your table sat outside.

“Can’t it be a bit of both?” His tone was teasing, but as you rejoined your group and watched as Harry scooted his chair closer to yours, you wondered if there was truth to his words. 

The night went on and the drinks flowed between your group, enjoying one of your last nights in Italy. As you sat back in your chair, watching the emptying streets around you, the sound of music and laughter being the only ones to fill your ears.

You also couldn’t help but feel hyperaware of every movement Harry made next to you. Every time his leg bumped yours under the table, every glance or smirk in your direction, every small nudge of his shoulder. 

You were at a point in the night, and maybe your intoxication, where Harry’s leg fully rested against yours, his arm spread over the back of your chair. You tried not to overthink the act, knowing that it didn’t mean anything, that you shouldn’t think it meant anything. Harry often swung his arm around the back of a chair, regardless of who was sitting there. Still, you couldn’t help the heat wash over your body at the thought of Harry longing to be closer to you.

After yawns started to fall from your lips, unable to participate in conversation anymore, you were about to suggest heading back. Harry, using his remarkable talent to read your mind, offered to walk with you as the others all wanted to stay for another drink. 

“You’re exhausted love, c’mon.” Harry stood from where he was sitting, waiting for you to do the same. You both said your goodbyes and goodnights to everyone, discussing your plans for breakfast the next morning, before walking back to the apartment building you were staying at. 

Although well into the night, the thin fabric of your dress and the humid air was enough to keep you warm. 

"Didn’t have to leave early with me.” You said, unsure if Harry had wanted to stay. “Told you Harry, I can handle myself.”

An ill-timed stumble on the cobblestones beneath your feet did not help you prove your point. Harry laughed at you, linking arms with you to keep you from stumbling further. 

“Bit drunk, aren’t you?” He grinned at you, dimples deep on his cheeks. “No,” you giggled into his arm, the word a lie but you knew him well enough to know that he was slightly intoxicated as well. 

“Right love,” he scoffed, “Guess you don’t need me to hold onto then?” 

You watched as he detached himself from you, talking long strides as he moved away from you.

“Harry,” you drawled out, already missing his skin against yours. You watched your steps this time, not wanting to trip on the uneven stones of the road. 

Harry stopped in his steps, watching you get closer to him. He laughed that loud laugh you loved to hear so much, holding out a hand for you to grab. 

“Look pretty tonight,” Harry suddenly found his voice quiet, as he watched you approach him and placed your palm on his. He hadn’t been able to go without being close to you in some kind of way tonight, like your body was a magnet pulling him in. 

He watched you, your features glowing softly in the dim light of the street. Hoping he wasn’t imagining what looked like a blush on your cheeks, he couldn’t stop himself as his free hand reached out under your chin. 

You didn’t say anything to his compliment, no words being formed in your mouth as Harry brushed his thumb gently over your bottom lip, over the remains of your lipstick. “Lovely colour on you.”

Harry’s hand titled your head up slightly, other hand that was laced with yours tugging you closer.

“Thank you,” were the only two words you could muster at that moment, barely a whisper. “You always look pretty too, Harry.” You immediately wanted to cringe as you heard the words coming out of your mouth.  

“Is that so, love.” Breath fanning over your face, that smirk reappeared on his face. “Always?” 

You nodded slightly, not trusting your voice, and watched as his eyes dropped down to your lips, thumb nudging them again. 

They lingered there for a moment, a moment far too long. The two of you were nearly flush against each other, one of your hands still laced together.

“Let’s head back, yeah?”  Harry whispered as took a step back, letting go of your hand and re-linking your arms. 

You didn’t say anything as you leaned into his arm, already overthinking the moment you had just shared. Part of you was beating yourself up for not being the one to make the first move. But the other part of you was terrified of what would happen, and needed him to be the one to make the first move. 

If you had been tired before, you were exhausted by the time you made it back to the villa. Heading immediately to the washroom when you walked through the door, wanting nothing more than to wash off your make up and brush your teeth. 

Leaving the washroom, you saw Harry waiting outside the door. “You want to,” he paused, as you stopped next to him. “Stay with me tonight? Don’t want t’sleep alone.”

You sucked your lips between your teeth, trying to bite back a smile as you faced him, nodding tentatively. Finding yourself unable to fight the smile on your face, you watched as his expression mirrored yours. “Gonna grab some water first.”

After forcing yourself to drink an entire glass, and refilling one to leave by the bed, you skipped past your room and made your way to Harry’s. 

Placing your water on the bedside table, you glanced around his room. Grabbing a shirt from the chair where Harry had left some thrown across the back, you quickly pulled off your dress and bra to change into the shirt before Harry came back from the washroom. 

Folding your clothes together and placing them next to your water, you slid under the sheets, happy to finally lay down. 

Harry held his breath as he left the washroom and stopped dead in his tracks when he saw you through the open door, peeling your dress from your skin. He tried to make the least noise as possible, knowing he should look away. He was still a bit drunk, and still playing the moment he had almost kissed you over and over in his head. 

Your back was turned to him, and he could feel as blood rushed to his cock, as he saw you standing in only your blue underwear. Turning in his heels, he walked back into the washroom. Mentally talking himself down, he gripped the counter and shut his eyes praying he didn’t grow harder. 

You were already drifting into sleep in Harry’s bed, eyes fluttering open as you felt him finally join you in bed. You felt the mattress dip as he shifted closer to you, watching him as you lay on your side.

“Have a good day?” Harry whispered to you, body shuffling to his side so he could lay directly across from you. “Yeah,” you nodded, voice at a whisper as well. “Really good day. Really good time on this trip, too.”

Harry grinned at your words, pleased to hear you were enjoying yourself. “Me too,” he whispered, hand sliding over to wrap around your waist. “C’mere.”

He pulled you closer, rolling to his back and brought his other arm around you, waiting for you to lift your head for it to rest under you. Accepting the warmth of his skin against yours, even in the heat of the room. Once settled, mumbled a small goodnight to him. You couldn’t help smiling at the way you fit next to him, the way he itched to lay closer to you.

You glanced up at Harry as he muttered your name, not having a chance to react as his head dipped down, lips pressing a chaste kiss right at the corner of your mouth. Your eyes widened, barely registering the small “night love” that he mumbled, before dropping his head back down to the pillow.

You held your breath as you tried to slow your beating heart, certain that he would be able to feel it. He must have wanted to kiss your cheek, you thought to yourself, calming yourself. He’s drunk, he’s tired.

                                                              ***

Yours and Harry’s shoes shuffled on the stone steps that led up to your floor in the apartment you were staying in. Bags in hands that were hitting your legs as you walked up the steps, you were looking forward to something refreshing to drink along with a nice meal.

Everyone had split up today, having different ideas of what they wanted to do. Ever since your little rowboat adventure, both you and Harry had been itching to get to Isola San Giulio, the island that sat in the lake, not too far of from the mainland.

It had been another tranquil day, taking your sweet time to wander around the small island, cameras, both digital and film, at your hip. You often stopped Harry, telling him to stand in a certain spot as you took a few steps back to snap a shot of him, and taking extra special ones with your film camera.

Harry always pretended to be bothered by it, but you knew he wasn’t. He liked being your muse.

He would always grab at the camera, telling you that he wanted to get pictures of you as well, but was rarely able to pull the camera from your arm. Still though, he sometimes managed to get a few shots of you, showing you right after and telling you “pretty good, aren’t I? Got a knack for this, I think.”

Favourite thing were the deteriorating frescos that lined the walls of the basilica that sat in the middle, you want to take your time and admire every image. The day was just as warm, sun filtering through the island and leaving bits of golden yellow across the warm bricks.

After eventually coming back to the mainland, the two of you headed to a nearby market to pick up some vegetables, fresh pasta, and some wine. You let Harry do a lot of the talking with the local merchants, impressed with his growing Italian skills.

Placing the groceries in the kitchen, you stopped Harry once again as you reached for your camera. “Lights really nice right now,” you murmured, adjusting the shutter on your camera before pointing the lens at Harry. Soft yellow light as the sun would set in a couple hours, it shone around Harry as his back faced the peach coloured stone of the balcony.

He looked like a dream today. White teeshirt, that was simple but still fitted, tucked into some loose deep brown trousers. Dark blue silk scarf that was tied around his neck, you had once or twice untied it during the day, to tie around your own neck. “Look classy with an ascot,” you had said, as you admired your appearance with Harry’s scarf.

Harry had also admired you, liking the way it matched the rest of your outfit. You had been nearly exclusively wearing sundresses during your trip, today being no exception. Hem hitting the middle of your shins, the soft cream colour fabric jutted out from where it was tighter around your abdomen, small red and orange embroidered flowers trailing down the sides.

“Wine?” Harry’s voice pulled you back into reality, watching as he held up one of the bottles you had bought today. “Of course.” You beamed at him, placing your camera on the counter as you grabbed the vegetables from your cloth bag.

Starting to chop the courgettes, you hummed a quiet thank you to Harry as he passed you a wine glass. Glass hinting yours in a wordless cheers, you both sipped at the wine as you continued to make dinner.

Just over half an hour later, the two of you sat across from each other at the table on the balcony, enjoying your dinner and wine. Both very pleased with the result of your dish, chattering away as you finished up eating just as the sun started to set.

Harry sprang up, running inside before coming back out with your camera in hand.

“You’re glowing love,” he grinned, sitting back down before pointing the camera lens in your direction. The sun creating an orange glow all around, you hoped it hid your blush from his words. “Shift forward a bit.” He said to you, wanting until you listened.

He snapped a few pictures of you, grinning down at the camera as he checked them before passing it to you. “See? Beautiful. Need to let me take pictures of you more often.”

“Looks good Harry,” you smiled softly at his compliment.

The both of you stayed outside until the sun was fully set, passing the camera between each other and finishing the rest of the wine. It wasn’t until the bottle was finished that the two of you decided to head inside.

After clearing out you plates and dishes, Harry tugged at your arm as he urged you to draw him again. Easily agreeing, you couldn’t help but giggle at his eagerness.

He sat himself down on the bed again, as you easily joined him with sketch book and pencils in hand. His eyes gleamed in the soft light of the lamp next to him, cheeks tinted red from the wine and wide grin on his face.

Repeating your actions from the night before, you started with small fast sketches of Harry as he lay with his legs sprawled towards you. He kept chattering away, again not doing his best at sitting still but it didn’t bother you at all.

Conversation slowing down between the pair of you, Harry rested his head against the wall behind him, eyes shutting softly. You might have thought that he was sleeping, if it wasn’t for the small comments he made once and a while, continuously asking if his pose was okay.

He shifted around a couple more times, settling on a pose with his back slouched against the pillows behind him, as you told him to try not to move for a bit longer.   You found yourself working faster today, maybe it was the wine that made your movements a bit sloppier, or maybe it was the familiarity that you had established with his body.

Conversation coming to a stop as you sat in a comfortable silence, you concentrating on the drawing in front of you and Harry enjoying watching you draw. It wasn’t until a few songs had passed in the silence, before Harry spoke up again.

“You said you used to draw people naked?” Harry broke the silence, as you focused on the detail of his shoulder. You hummed, eyes flicking to his, unsure of where he was going with this. 

“Think it would be better if I was naked?” He said, after a few seconds of silence. You felt heat rush to your face at his words, stopping your pencil on the page. 

“I think you’ve had too much to drink.” You said forcing a small laugh, willing yourself to look up at him. 

“I'm serious, love. Said so yourself, you can really see how the body moves.” His voice was devoid from any humour, but as you met his eyes you say that familiar gleam in them. 

He suddenly got up from the bed, shuffling over to where the desk was in the corner of the room. Your widening eyes followed him across the room, suddenly aware of how hot your cheeks were burning. 

“Harry,” you started to say, as if a small warning. Yet as you heard your voice, it was barely above a whisper. “Only if you want to, love.” 

Harry’s eyes searched yours, as he began to panic in your silence. Shit, what if he had pushed you too far? He didn’t want to scare you off, quite the opposite in fact. He watched as you slipped your lip between your teeth, seemingly thinking it over.

You knew that you should say no, that this was not something that you guys should do. The both of you had seen each other naked before, in quick glances of moments where you needed to change, or where you opened a door without knocking first.

But this was something very different. You already got a bit flustered around him, and you couldn’t help but overthink every time he was extra touchy with you. You knew that he was just that kind of person, and that he acted that way with a lot of people. But every time his leg rested against yours when he sat next to you, or his arm swung around your shoulders to hold you close, you felt like he wanted to be closer to you.

You knew that you should say no to him. That this wasn’t a good idea, that you were both a little tipsy on all that wine that was finished off, and that this could might not be a great idea. You never even really did this with your friends, you guys always posed clothed for each other.

Yet, you still found yourself giving him a nod, as you turned to face him. 

Relief washed over Harry, as he heard the word “Yeah,” leave your lips in a hushed tone. “Yes,” you repeated a little louder, as you flipped to a fresh page to draw on. 

Looking away from Harry, you again couldn’t help the blush that was creeping up your neck. What the hell were we doing.

You felt your mouth go dry when you looked back up at him. Shirt pulled off his shirt, and his trousers had been pushed down his legs, along with his briefs and pushed them to the side. Your eyes scanned his long legs, to his abdomen. You willed yourself not to stare too long at his newly exposed cock, but you couldn’t help but notice how long and thick he was; mind wandering as you imagined just how heavy he would feel in your hand, or mouth. 

Harry couldn’t help the small smirk that played at his lips as he watched your eyes scan him. Not wanting to make you any more uncomfortable, he quickly sat down on the chair facing you. “Sit however I want?” His voice broke the silence that had set in the room.

You nodded, trying to shake any dirty thought from your head as you shifted on the bed a bit, making yourself comfortable. “I’ll just do one I think, one pose for longer if that’s okay?” You finally managed to meet his gaze.

“’ Course.” He nodded, as he settled on a pose he was okay with staying in for a while, leaning back in the chair and crossing his bare legs. He didn’t mind sitting put in the slightest, loved watching you as you worked, as your eyes scanned his skin. 

You silently began your work, soft music from Harry’s phone being the only sound in the room. There was faint noise coming from the city outside, but you felt like the two of you were in your own world up here. The two of you sat in silence, only once and a while making small conversation, or humming along to whatever song was playing.

You don’t know how long you sat and drew him, could’ve been half an hour, could’ve been two hours. You don’t think your cheeks ever stopped flushing, being so close and so intimate with Harry like this.

When you finally decided that you were done, you folded your sketchpad placing it next to you and let your shoulders drop with a sigh. “’ M done.” You told Harry, watching his eyes perk up at the sound of your voice. 

His movements were slow, stiff from sitting in the same pose for so long. “Can I see? Haven’t shown me any drawings yet.” He moved up from the chair, and you couldn’t help your eyes drop down to his crotch again.

“I’ll put my pants back on I promise.”

You grinned up at him, feeling more at ease again after the initial awkwardness of when he had dropped trow in front of you.

“Yeah,” you grinned, oddly more at ease to show Harry your drawings now. You flipped through the book as he pulled his pants back on. You felt the mattress sink next to you as Harry sat down, leg against yours. You handed him the book, watching as he took in the sketches.  

You observed his reactions as his eyes skimmed over each line, turning the pages. He stopped when he reached the more detailed sketches from earlier this night, from before he got naked. He spent the longest time looking at them, not flipping to the last one yet.

“These are beautiful,” his voice held a slight rasp, as he looked up at you. 

“Narcissist.” You muttered, teasing him. “I’m serious,” he breathed out your name, along woth a humourless laugh. “They’re crazy detailed for the amount of time, but,” he trailed off, staring at them more intently. “I don’t know, you really just got me y’know?” He said, gazing back down to the drawing. “You just,” He trailed off again, not sure how to express what he was saying. “You captured me so well.”

Another blushed crept up your cheeks at his compliment. “Thank you, Harry. Really,” you smiled softly at him.

“’ Course love,” he smiled back. “You know I’m your biggest fan.” You trailed your eyes over his face, watching the way he smiled fondly at you, the way his dimple popped out, the way his eyes crinkled in his good humour. 

Finally, as your gaze met his once more, you watched his eyelashes flutter, pupils wide and dark. Before you could even think of biding your goodnights, Harry’s voice cut through your thoughts. “Stay again tonight?”

You had to bite back the smile building on your lips. 

You had already made up your mind at his question, of course wanting to spend another night in his arms. It was the look in his eyes, one you couldn’t quite place. His pupils dilated, as he looked up at you through lashes. “Please?”

 “Of course,” you breathed out, almost wanting to reach forward and push his hair out of his face, but thought against it. “Want to change first, I’ll be back in a sec.” 

Quietly walking to your room, you changed into your pyjama shorts and a loose tank top. Stopping by the washroom before heading back to Harry’s room, you gazed at yourself in the mirror. Your cheeks were still flush from the number of drinks that you had. Or maybe it was from being so close to Harry’s naked body for so long. Wiping your face down with cool water, you wiled the blush away before heading back to Harry.

He watched you walk back into his room, closing the door behind you. You smiled softly at him as he looked up to you. His eyes watched, his cock twitching in his shorts as your nipples noticeably press against the fabric of your shirt. Control yourself, he thought to himself. Harry knew he was already pushing his luck with you, especially keeping you here in his bed with him. 

You noticed he had the sketchpad still resting on his lap, sitting yourself next to him and obeying as he motioned for you to shuffle in closer to you; only happy when your side was fully pressed against his.

“Drew something for you.” Harry’s voice rumbled in your ear. 

You turned towards him, watching as he reached for the sketchpad that you had left. He flipped through it, finding the page he wanted to show you, tapping on the little mess of scribbles he wanted to show you. It was a small stick figure, with a few odd added features that you figured were meant to resemble you, with your name scribbled overtop. 

“What’s that?” You breathed out, small giggle in your voice. You pointed to a small mess of lines next to your name. “What?” Harry laughed from next to you. “Its a heart!” 

“Harry that does not look like heart.” Giggling as you glanced at him, watching his lips turn down to a pout. “Could be one,” he muttered, hint of a smile in his voice.

Harry flipped over the book on his lap, nude drawing of Harry in front of you. “This is seriously incredible,” he murmured, voice serious again. “Was it weird for you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he paused, glancing from the drawing to you. “Was it weird, drawing me naked and all?”

You bit your lips together between your teeth, not knowing where he was going with this, and not knowing what to say.

“Because I didn’t think it was. ‘M comfortable with you, y’know?” He mumbled, eyes not leaving yours. You had to glance down, feeling heat rush to your face.

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” you whispered, eyes stuck on the drawing that you had just done of him.

“Las’ thing I wan’ to do is make you uncomfortable, love.”

“Harry, I’m not...” The words died in your throat. 

As you turned your head to face the man next to you, your breathing felt like it had come to a stop. His face that was already turned towards you, was inches away from yours, noses nearly brushing.

You swallowed thickly, eyes flicking between his. His gaze was intense, eyes dark, a fact that you don’t think could be blamed on the wine anymore. You looked down to the sketchpad on both of your laps, as his hand smoothed over the paper until the tip of his fingers met yours. 

“Harry...” You could barely hear your own voice as you spoke his name, heartbeat drumming in your ears. 

“‘s just me, love,” his voice rasped in your ear, body shifting closer to yours as you watched his fingertips dance over your skin down on the paper in front of you. You could feel his nose brush over the top of your ear, lips only brushing on the skin over your jaw. 

Not moving, you refused to look up at him. Maybe you wanted to prolong his begging or maybe you were too afraid to make the first move, it was probably a bit of both.

He muttered your name on top of your skin, breath hot on your neck. He wasn’t so much pressing kisses on your skin, as he was brushing his lips on you. “It’s just me.”

“Please, love.” 

His voice was thick, tortured even. 

Bottom lip lodging itself between your teeth, you looked up at him. His eyes were rapidly searching your face, breath mixing with your own.

Within the blink of an eye, his lips met yours. 

Mouth so light against yours, he whispered your name. Tentatively giving you a kiss, a soft kiss, his other hand sliding behind your head. Fingertips lightly scratching into your scalp, letting out a small sigh as all he wanted was more of you. 

A sigh left Harrys lips as he whispered your name over your mouth again, leaving small, hints of kisses against your own lips. A whine built in his throat, calling you to be closer to him. Lifting a hand up to his cheek, you scratched your fingertips against his skin as your lips rested barely a millimetre apart, breath mixing together.

Warmth rushed through your body as his lips finally fully slid over yours, hot and eager as he puckered his lips against your own in small kisses.

Mind void from any other thought or worry you had before, filled with nothing but Harry as he filled your senses. A small gasp made its way from the back of your throat as Harry’s tongue heatedly pushed past your lips mouth gladly opening for him. Harry grazed into your mouth, arm around you pulling you closer to him.

Kiss growing in fervour since the hesitant brushes of lips it had started as, Harry could hear nothing but his heartbeat loud in his ears, along with the series of soft exhales and gasps that were leaving your mouth. The same mouth that Harry longed to feel against his, the same mouth that was currently pressed eagerly against his.

“Christ,” Harry grunted, voice low as you tugged on his hair. “Thinking about this…” he muttered against your mouth, lips briefly leaving yours to kiss the corner of your mouth, moving down to your jaw and then neck. His mouth open, breath hot, making your spine tingle with every wet kiss on your skin. “Wanting this.”  A sigh left your mouth as his teeth lightly nipped at the skin under your earlobe.

“Harry,” his name was a whine, pulling his attention away from your neck, as his eyes searched yours. Pupils wide, eyes dark and filled with desire, longing for you. His breath leaving his lips in small pants, chest rising against yours.

“Love, I –” He cut himself off, brow furrowing as he watched you intently, waiting for you to speak up again. You felt his hand on yours, still resting on the paper on both your laps, his fingertips grazing over your hand and moving up to hold your forearm.

“Harry,” you repeated, already feeling cold without his lips on yours, even as he sat almost completely pressed against you.

He watched as you freed your arm from his grasp, grabbing the pad of paper that had since been filled with drawings of Harry. He watched as you tossed it on the floor next to you. A long breath of air was pushed from his lips, his eyes remaining locked with yours.

He drew out your name, voice low, voice needy, as he followed your every movements. Shifting your body next to his, you lifted a leg over his lap, sitting yourself on his thighs as you straddled him. Free hand joining the other around his neck, you watched as a smirk tugged at his lips, eyebrows raising at you slightly. His expression had relaxed from a few seconds ago, when you had pulled away from him and he thought you were on the verge of running away. Instead he found himself even closer to you, chests pressed against each other, one hand gripping the nape of your neck and the other lacing around your waist as he kept you close.

“Want you too, Harry.”

A beat passed between the two of you, before your mouths molded together once again. Lips immediately hot against one another, Harry licking deep into your mouth as you returned his fervour. You felt his chest rumble with a moan against you, as your fingers tugged at his curls, loving the way it made him react against you.

His grip was tight on your waist, other hand moving away from your neck, gripping you wherever he could. You whimpered into his mouth as both hands found themselves over the curve of your ass, fingertips digging into your skin as it prompted you to shift your hips closer to his, heat rushing to your core as you rubbed over him.

“God love,” Harry groaned, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth, before pulling away from you to catch his breath. “You are…” his lips immediately found your skin again, grazing the skin under your jaw. “God I’ve dreamt about this.”

His voice was a whisper, a deep, raspy whisper that somehow made you radiate with even more heat against him.

His mouth moved over your collarbone, meeting the strap of your tank top, gripping it with his teeth as he moved it to the side and over your shoulder. One of his hands tugged at the hem of your shirt, pulling it down just enough to expose the top of your breasts. Lips following the curve of your chest, sucking and nipping the skin that had been newly exposed to him.

You moved one of your hands away from the back of his head, open palm smoothing his exposed chest. The room was hot, the air between the two of you searing hot, but somehow Harry found himself shivering as your nails gently trailed down his chest.

Hips inadvertently rolling over Harry’s as his large hand still gripped your ass, you could feel the heat radiating off him, could feel him grow harder underneath the thin layers of fabric that separated the two of you. Hand guiding your hips to repeat the action, Harry groaned against your skin, lips finding yours once again.

Hand trailing up under your shirt, calloused fingers stopping by your ribs. The whine into his mouth as he pressed hot, sloppy kisses onto your lips, was the only urge he needed to grab your breast in his hand, tugging at your nipple between his index and thumb. Back arching at his action, pressing your chest against his hand as you craved more of his touch.

“Can feel you,” you panted, voice nearly incoherent as you trailed your mouth away from his. Tongue gliding over the skin of his neck, you caught the skin under his jaw between your teeth. “Can feel you everywhere.”

Pulling away from his neck, you tugged at his hair, watched as his eyelids fluttered open. The sight of you before him was enough for him to let out a low moan. Your lips red and puffed, eyes glazed over, tank top falling off of your shoulders.

Harry’s appearance matched yours, hair tousled, his eyes gazing at you zealously. “Can I,” he rasped, fingertips trailing over your waist. “Can I touch you.” His words were almost more of a demand rather than a question but he still didn’t move, waiting for your answer.

You quickly nodded, not trusting your voice to be coherent. He leaned in again, mouth over the shell of your ear. “Gotta tell me love.”

Clearing your throat, your voice sounding hazy as you muttered into the air. “Want you,” Harry pulled his mouth away, gaze meeting yours again.

“Thought about yours fingers on me, want them.”

His mouth hanging open for a second, before scurrying a hand around the band of your pyjama shorts. Fingers trailing under the waistband, you breathed out his name as he fingers moved slowly, barely brushing over your skin.

“Harry,” you groaned, rutting your hips forward, feeling yourself absolutely throbbing for him.

You watched his face, watched a grin line his lips as he watched you writhe on top of him. He loved watching you like this, knowing he would never be able to get over seeing you on top of him, pleading for you. “Please.”

“Tell me what you want, love,” he rasped. “Tell me what you’ve thought about; thought about me doing to you.”

Another whine was heard from your mouth, knowing he was loving having you so powerless to him, even as you sat on top of him.

You swallowed thickly, licking your lips before agreeing to what he wanted. “I – I’ve thought about your fingers, on my clit.”

You gasped as soon as you spoke, feeling his index finger press through your folds until it met your clit. He rubbed light, slow circles on it, before stopping to urge you on. “Then what?”

“I thought – I want you to feel how wet I am.” Your lips moved towards his skin again, sucking softly as you made yourself down his neck and flattened both hands over his chest.

“Jesus fuck,” Harry groaned your name, finger pushing itself through your wetness. His palm flattened against you, moving slick finger back to your clit. “So wet, dripping for me, hm?”

Your answer was a moan, rejoicing as he applied pressure on your clit once again. “For you…” You mumbled circling your hips on Harry’s hand as he rubbed slow, hard circles on your clit.

“All f’me,” Harry muttered to himself, quietly, repeatedly, as if he couldn’t believe it.

And truthfully, he couldn’t believe. So many times, he pulled his eyes away from you, not wanting you to notice him staring at you. So many times, he thought about you as he held his cock in his hand, your name lacing his moans. So many times, he held you close any chance he got.

Now here he sat with you situated yourself on top of him, lips hungrily nipping at his skin; his hands down your shorts as you impatiently moaned for him.

His movements on your clit speeding up, your kisses getting sloppier as whimpers fell freely from you mouth. Suddenly stopping, his voice above you pulling your attention away from his chest and back to his face.

“What next, love?”

“In me,” the words left your mouth in a rush. “Want your fingers inside of me.”

He followed your words, middle finger sliding down your folds, slowly pushing into you. Watching you react to him, he smirked as your eyes fluttered closed, sucking your lips in between your teeth.

“Like that?” His finger pumped slowly inside of you, curling roughly in a way that made you collapse your chest against his.

“Yes,” you breathed out, feeling him find a pace, as his thumb moved up to press small circles on your clit. You pressed yourself against him, circling your hips on his finger as you craved more of him. You could feel him hard under you, the thought of him hot and heavy making you clench around his finger. “More,” the word was strangled, as you panted on top of him.

Harry soon slipped in another finger, stretching you wider. You loved the way he felt inside of you, moan slipping past your lips at the thought of how his cock would fill you. The image of him bare in front of you earlier on that night flashed through your mind, imagining how he would look now, full and hard for you.

You felt the building of an orgasm in the pit of your stomach, heat rushing through your body. Harry’s pace on your clit increased, feeling you clench around his fingers.

“’ m close.” You moaned, although Harry already knew. He watched as you clung to him, nails digging into his bare chest. Your breath was heavy, small whines building in the back of your throat, and you tried to bite back your moans, mostly unsuccessful in doing so.

He pushed his fingers deep inside of you, curling them and hitting that spot that made you gasp his name. “Harry I –” you warned, unable to hold back your climax.

“Go ahead,” his lips neared your ear, urging you on. “Want you to come for me.”

You pulled your head from his chest at his words, meet his gaze. Harry reveled in the way your eyes were glazed over in desire, cheeks red as he moved to push you over the edge.

Your lips slotting against his, you left lazy kisses on his mouth before feeling your jaw go slack. Orgasm coursing through you, you stilled your hips, feeling yourself clench around his fingers. Nails digging into his chest, lip biting down onto his bottom one, you tried to stifle the moan that had been building, released from your throat as Harry made you cum.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he watched as your tried to regain your breath, grip loosening on him as you detached yourself from him. Harry pulled his hand from your shorts, watching his fingers coated with your arousal. Your eyes followed his hand as he moved his fingers into his mouth, moan rumbling from his chest as he tasted you.

“You’re incredible,” he muttered, wet fingers gripping at your thigh. He leaned in, kissing you slowly, deeply. You hummed against his mouth, as if returning his comment. You trailed your hands down over his shorts as you kissed him, palm sliding over his covered cock.

You trailed your hands down over his shorts as you kissed him, palm sliding his covered cock. You felt him jerk against you, lips pulling away from yours for a second.

“I – don’t worry about me love,” Harry murmured, hand rising to cup your face. “I mean, we don’t have to keep going.”

You smiled up at him, moving in to press a small kiss to his lips. His concern over you comfort moved you, but you did want to keep going.

“Want to though,” you said as you pulled away from his mouth. Smile on your lips, words slow as you spoke them. “Want to have you inside of me.”

Harry’s mouth hung open for a second, your name rumbling in the back of his throat. His ears were ringing, all his focus set on you in front of him.

“I…” hands brushing along the skin on his waist, needing to remind himself that this was really happening, that you were really sitting here with him, asking him to fuck you.

“If you want,” you quickly added.

“You,” he pressed chaste kisses along your cheek, until his lips met you ear. “You want me to fuck you?” His words were slow, drawing out every word, leaving goosebumps down your neck.

“Yeah,” you sighed into the air, wanting so badly to feel him closer to you.

“Harry I – I want you to fuck me. Please.”

His fingers dug into the hips at your words. “Such a dirty mouth,” he gulped, inhaling sharply.  

He kissed you, desperate and hard against you. “Take this off,” pulling at the hem of the thin tank top barely covering your chest, wanting to feel you completely against him.

Obeying, you broke apart from him for a beat to tug the shirt over your head, throwing it to the side. His eyes immediately dropping down to your newly exposed chest, hands sliding up your ribs to grab at the swell of your breasts.

Head dipping down, lips leaving kisses down your skin, sucking softly. You hummed appreciatively when his lips circled around your nipple, tugging it between his teeth. His hand grabbed at your other breast, massaging and tugging at the skin.

Your own hands scrapped over the band of his shorts, fingers dipping past the waistband of his briefs, flattening your palm over his bulge, hand wrapping around him. You remembered the way he looked naked in front of you, thinking that he would feel thick and heavy in your hand. And you were right.

He felt even bigger in your palm, hips bucking into your hand. Moving your hand down his shaft, thumb rubbing over his tip collecting the bit of precum that had gathered. He mumbled your name, pulling his head away from your chest as your other hand tugged at his hair.

You moved down his lap a bit, shifting away from him enough to pull his shorts and briefs down his thighs, shifting for him to kick them off and to the floor next to you.

Your mouth gaped open, watching as his cock laid thick and hard against his abdomen. He smirked at you, watching as you were unable to pull your eyes away from him.

Staring unashamedly as your hands reached forward to wrap around him once again.

“Earlier,” Harry groaned, hips bucking into your hand. “Took everything I had to not get hard, when you were drawing me.”

You hummed at his words, pleased to hear you weren’t the only one thinking of lunging on the other, when he sat naked for you as you drew him. He watched as you lifted yourself on your knees, fingers pushing on your shorts as you tugged them over your hips, hooking each leg out of them as they joined the clothes on the floor.

“Fuck I…” Harry groaned, eyes scanning your bare body. “I don’t have a condom.” He met your eyes, sudden panic filling him. “ ‘m clean I swear, I would never…”

You nodded, cutting off his rambling. “Me too,” right now wanting nothing more than to feel him inside of you. “Clean, I mean. ‘M on the pill too.” Words barely a whisper as they left your lips, voice hoarse. “Harry please, want you in me.”

You shuffled closer to him on his lap, raising your hips so your folds slid over his cock. He pressed a long heavy kiss to your lips, muttering against your mouth.

“Christ love, you’re gonna be the death of me.”

A hand placed over yours, he gripped the base of his cock, as his other hand held your hips against him. Moving your hands to his shoulders to hold yourself, as you slowly sank down around his length.

The two of you let out shaky breaths, your cheek resting against his shoulder as you felt him fill you. You paused, not used to his size. “You okay?” He muttered onto your temple, waiting for you to move against him.

Lifting your head, you nodded weakly, slowly circling your hips over him. One of his hands moved to grip your ass, as the other held tightly to your waist. He was pressed tightly against you, skin hitting yours as your chest quickly rose and fell.

“So full,” you choked out, watery eyes meeting his. Harry felt his cock twitch inside of you, seeing you completely falling apart on top of him.

“S’okay, love.” He murmured softly, head dipping down to press a kiss to your shoulder. “Take your time.”

You lifted your hips on his, moving on him in slow, hot movements. Your head burying back into the crook of his neck. You could feel him everywhere, skin completely flush against yours. He was so deep inside of you, hitting deliciously in all the right places.

You set a slow pace, feeling him rub everywhere inside of you. Harry’s hips pushed into yours as he moved with you, trying to stop himself from roughly thrusting into you.

Harry loved the sound of the pants, laced with small whines as they left your throat. He wanted to hear nothing but that, along with the way you called his name as you felt him everywhere inside of you.

“Such a pretty cunt,” he grunted into your ear, lips kissing and teeth tugging at your skin. “Taking me in so good.”

Hips rocking over his, you tried to speed up your pace, wanting to feel him tight against you. “Harry,” your throat rasped, voice strangled as you spoke his name, fingers tugging at his shoulders.

“Harry,” you said louder, tugging tightly at his hair. “More,” was the only word you were capable of forming, hoping he could understand your strangled words. “Want more.”

Gripping your thighs tightly, Harry gave no warning before rolling you over. You suddenly found him flush on top of you, hair dangling in your face as he pulled you in for a kiss. Large palm hooking itself under your knee, pulling your leg up as he urged you to hook up legs tightly around his waist.

He groaned at the contact, feeling himself even deeper inside of you. “Good?” He asked, checking with you before moving.

Muffled moan being heard from you as you quickly nodded, wanting him so desperately to move.

Moving his hips on yours, his hips snapped back against yours in short rough thrusts into you. You clenched around him at the new contact, eliciting your name to fall from Harry’s mouth in a short strangled cry.

“Don’ fucking do that,” he said, voice clipped and pausing for a second, before continuing his deep thrusts into you. “Wanna las’ for you.”

He continued his momentum over you, as you arched yourself to be closer to him, fingers digging into the skin on his back. Only sounds to be heard were of skin against skin, and with breathless heaves mixed with the moaning of names, and the panting of curses and calling to gods.

His hands were everywhere on you, palming over your breasts, your thighs, your hips. His fingers dug into the skin of your ass, pushing you up to meet his skin, your back arching as you whimpered at his pressure.

Harry bowed his head, looking down where his hips connected to yours. He found it so incredibly hot, as he watched himself sink in and out of you. His name was falling freely from your mouth, calls getting louder, spurring him on. He wanted nothing other than to watch you unravel for him again.

“Fuck Ha –” you whined. “Harry more, more.” Small tears forming in the corner of your eyes once again, getting caught in your eyelashes as you squeezed your eyes shut.

You felt your second orgasm building in you, unable to hold back. You moaned especially loudly as you felt a hand snake in between of your bodies, long finger dragging onto your clit, pressing, rubbing at it deeply.

“Tha’ s it love,” he mumbled, watching you grow more frantic under him. Head ducking down again, this time to connect his lips to the skin your chest, biting as he urged you on. “You desperate?” He continued. “Want me to fuck you hard? Want to cum around me?”

You were overwhelmed with sensation, having him fill you so tightly, his finger rubbing on your incredibly sensitive clit, his hair tickling your jaw and his mouth licking and biting at your skin.

So completely overwhelmed with the bubbling climax in the pit of your stomach, your gripped onto Harry so tightly you were sure to draw blood under your nails.

“Go on love,” Harry urged softly, the grin evident in his words. Your eyes were squeezed shut, teeth digging into your lips as you tried to stifle the moans of his name.

The combination of Harry hitting the same spot repeatedly inside of you, your senses filled him. The hot heat from his skin, his voice in your ears, his cologne. It was all too much for you, as you felt him push you towards your climax.

“Harry,” falling apart under him, you writhed as you held him close to you, walls clenching around his cock. He fucked you through your orgasm, pace slowing down as his felt himself start to twitch inside of you. Your thighs squeezed him tight, ankles hooking behind him as you thrust your hips up into his. Arms were wrapped tightly around him, nails dragging into his skin. You felt dizzy, eyes squeezed shut as you couldn’t help yourself from crying out.

Slowly, starting to calm down from your climax, Harry watched as you opened watery eyes, gazing up at him with nothing but lust. Sense of satisfaction filling his head as he moved to kiss the corners of your eyes, wiping away the small tears that spilled over.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he groaned your name, knowing he wasn’t going to be able to last for much longer. “You’re unbelievable.”

He kissed his way down your face, his lips buried in the crook of your neck as you quietly urged him on, voice hoarse as you wanted him to finish inside of you.

“Cum f’me,” you rasped, eyes lazily gazing down at him, moving a hand up to brush through his hair.

Pressure unbearable for Harry, he halted on top of you, only movement being of his hips grinding tightly on yours as he fell off the brink. You could feel him pulse, hot bursts as he came inside of you. His teeth dug into your shoulder, your name hot on his lips as he let out heavy pants. He praised you endlessly, words nonsensical as they spilled out of his mouth. He was a mess.

Eventually lifting his head, eyes hazy as he grinned down at you and pulled you in for a sloppy kiss. Staying like that for a moment, neither of you moving as you lay tight against each other. Shaky arms pushing himself up, he pulled himself out of you, and rolled over to his side.

“Le’ me get you cleaned up.” He mumbled, eyes trailing over you as he watched the mess he created at the corner of your thighs.

“Don’t worry,” you whispered, rising on the bed. You turned to the edge of the bed, legs wobblily as you situated yourself on your feet.

“Coming right back, yeah?” Suddenly worried that you might already regret what the two of you just did.

“‘Course,” you giggled, before shuffling out of the room and into the washroom. After peeing and cleaning yourself up the best you could, you caught a glance of your reflection in the mirror.

You had sex written all over your features. Lips dark and swollen, eyes hazy and hair a mess. Marks on your breasts from where Harry had sucked, already turning purple.

About to leave the washroom, you paused in your steps. You could hear the rest of the group, you could hear the key slid into the lock. As quietly as you could, you ran from the washroom to Harry’s room, quickly closing the door behind you.

Turning around, you saw Harry lounging back on the bed, pair of briefs now covering his hips. He had tossed the sheet on the floor, replacing it with a new one you assumed he had grabbed from your own bed.

You scurried over to grab your discarded clothes on the floor, looking up as Harry made a sound of protest. “Want you to wear my clothes,” he said, pointing up to where he had set some of his own clothes for you to wear.

You grinned at him, bringing your finger to your mouth in a shushing motion, trying to tell him the others had come home, thinking it was probably best that they thought you were asleep instead of naked together.

Pulling the boxers and shirt on, you quickly shut off the lights in the room and slid on the bed next to him. “They’re home,” you whispered, accepting his arm that pulled you closer to him.

He didn’t say anything to that, pressing a small kiss to the top of your head. “You okay?” He said instead, trying to read what you were thinking about what just happened.

“Yeah,” you mumbled against him, small nod of your head as you couldn’t help your grin at his concern for you. “Tired.”

“That was,” Harry’s chest resonated under your head as he spoke. “That was unbelievable, yeah?”

You could feel him watching you, unmoving. You lifted your head, eyes meeting his. “Yeah, it was.” Your voice was shaky with a laugh, still in a daze.

You felt him sigh against you, body relaxing with yours as you settled your head back against his chest. “Good,” he muttered, so quietly you nearly missed it, before you drifted off to sleep.

                                                              ***

Harry woke up before you.

His arms were still wrapped around you, bodies flush together, sunlight filling the room.

His left arm felt a bit numb, as it rested underneath your head, but he didn’t mind. The two of you had fallen asleep almost immediately the night before, as soon as you rested your head on his chest you had dozed off, Harry following quickly as he watched your chest rhythmically rise and fall.

He hadn’t had time to properly reflect on the time you guys had together the night before, the time you guys spent with hot lips and wandering hands. Harry had thought about sex with you before, more than he’d like to admit. But the one thing he never really got around to thinking about, was what would happen afterwards.

Not wanting to move around too much to wake you up, he lifted his head up to glance around the room. Clothes were scattered around the floor, along with the sketchbook that was thrown aside when you had moved to sit on his lap.

Head hitting the pillow once again, he tugged you closer to him as he replayed the events on the night before over and over again in his head. For as long as Harry thought about it, dreamt about it, nothing compared to the reality. The way you had gasped, whimpered and whined for him, the way you had clung to him so tightly. The way you had fit so perfectly with him. Harry couldn’t believe it.

Just as Harry thought about what to say to you when you woke up, you stirred in his arms. He froze, trying to slow his heartbeat down and maybe pretend he had just woken up as well.

He didn’t know why he was so stressed all of the sudden, but he couldn’t help but think that maybe you would slide out of his arms and pretend like nothing ever happened. He watched as you rolled onto your back, Harry’s arm sliding across your stomach as you moved.

Your eyes were still shut, and for a second Harry thought you were still asleep.

“Can feel you watching me,” your voice suddenly broke him out of his daze.

Not being able to help the grin breaking out on his face, he didn’t try to hide the fact that you had caught him. He hummed, now that you were awake finding the chance to move his arm from under you. “M’ arms numb.”

You felt his arm wiggle out from under your head, shaking it out when it was free. He rolled over onto his side, still facing you and making sure to keep his other arm wrapped over your waist.

“Sleep well?” Harry watched as you rolled over onto your side, facing him.

“Yeah,” he spoke lowly, voice still raspy from sleep. “Real well.” He watched the gleam in your eyes as you returned his smile, nodding.

“I’m bummed you’re leaving tonight,” he muttered, fingertips gliding under the loose shirt that hung around you, thumb rubbing circles on the skin of you hip.

“You’re leaving too,” your eyebrows shot up, voice soft but tone loud.

“Yeah,” Harry’s voice drawled the word out, bottom lip between his teeth as he bit back a smile. “But we’re headin’ different ways. Not goin’ to see you for a bit.”

“Won’t be that long.” You grinned up at him, although sharing the sentiment. “I should shower,” you mumbled, shooting Harry a grin before turning over in the bed to then roll off, standing to your feet. Harry watched as the sun filtering through the window hit you, he couldn’t help but admire the way it made you glow.

You shuffled on your feet, legs the tiniest bit unstable, as you reached for your scattered clothes on the floor. “Should get some pastries for breakfast, yeah?” Harry’s voice pulled your attention back to him.

“Definitely,” you beamed at him, pausing before opening his door as you listened for anyone else being out.

“Y’look good in my shirt, love.” Harry spoke once more from behind you. Smile widening, you sent him what you hope was a subtle wink, before slipping out of his room and heading to the washroom.

Harry sank back down into the mattress as the door closed behind you, hands running over his face. Fucking hell, he thought to himself. The smell of your perfume still overwhelmed his senses, surrounding him and the sheets around him.

“Christ,” you muttered to yourself, glancing at your appearance in the mirror. Red and purple marks along your breasts from where Harry had bit and sucked, you were glad they were just low enough to be concealed by clothing.

Stepping into the shower, your mind played the events from the night before over and over again. Remembering the ways his hands hand trailed all over your body, gripping and pulling at you. Biting your lip as you recalled everything, he had muttered to you, how much he told you he wanted you, and how much you had returned the sentiment.

After all these years of knowing each other, all the subtle glances at each other, all the lingering grabs and wandering hands, this had felt right.

You quite frankly don’t know why it had taken so long. You kicked yourself a bit for not making a move sooner, but you knew that you couldn’t find it in yourself to be the one to initiate anything. You also knew that Harry probably took so long to make a move because you gave unclear signs, but that was neither here nor there.

Deciding to push any worries out of your mind for now, thinking that it would be best to deal with it when the time comes. Instead, you got ready for the day after your shower.

Pulling on a floral sundress, you kept Harry’s shirt in your room, knowing that you could get away with taking it from him before you guys parted ways.

Harry was true to his word, and had headed out to grab some delicacies for breakfast. Everyone out and ready to eat, you joined them at the table that sat in the sun on the balcony.

As you sat around the small table, you and Harry sharing looks, knees bumping. Harry reveled at how normal everything felt. There was no awkwardness, nothing felt weird or uncomfortable. You weren’t avoiding him, or acting strange around him.

Although it being a good thing that neither of you were uncomfortable, Harry realized that there had been basically no mention of the night spent together. Although the very rational thought that it had been mere hours since the two of you had slept together, only being awake for a couple of those hours.

Everything about that was extremely rational, but Harry still wanted to say something, anything to just bring it to air. He didn’t want you guys to bury the night into nothing, into something that you would once and a while remember but never say thing about.

“You got a hickey on your tit.”

That’ll do it.

Figuring the opportunity would present itself as you headed to the kitchen to grab some more peaches, Harry had followed. He wordlessly watched as you bent over to grab the little produce bag across the counter, his eyes dropping down to low cut of your dress where he noticed the little marks he left on your skin the night before.

Shooting up at his quiet words, you felt a blush creep up your cheeks as you looked down, both hopping to hide the blush and to fix the neckline of your dress, so that the top of your breasts were covered.

“Looks good on you,” he mumbled quickly after, after you didn’t say anything.

“Stop that.” You muttered, knowing your cheeks were glowing red as you thought back to a mere twelve hours ago when Harry had his mouth sucking on the skin on your breast. Harry couldn’t help the smirk that dawned on his lips, watching you flush as he reminded you of the feeling on his lips on your skin.

“Seemed to like it.”

Harry watched as you grabbed a bowl for the fruit, holding it against you before stepping past him. “Why do you think I wore such a low cut dress today?”

                                                              ***

Two bottles of prosecco had been shared in the early afternoon, a last little celebration of sorts before the realization that everyone had to pack. It had been such a nice afternoon, almost a perfect ending to the time you guys had spent here in Italy.

Almost.

Harry was dying to get you alone.

Pacing around his room for a second as he was itching to storm down your door. Why hadn’t he kissed you.

During a morning of quiet glances, teasing smiles and light touches, Harry had been so focused on trying to talk to you, or show that everything would be okay, that he never found the opportunity to kiss you. He was supposed to be packing up his things, or at least starting to pack up, but he couldn’t stop thinking

The next time Harry would see you would be in a rushed goodbye, before you head over to the train station. After that, who knows when the next time you will see each other. Realistically, it wouldn’t be that long. But the way it stood right now, both yours and Harry’s schedule were so erratic there was really no telling.

The sketchpad on the floor caught his eye. You hadn’t retrieved it from last night, and it still sat on the floor where you had tossed it. Quickly grabbing it, he walked down the hall to knock at your door.

As the door opened, Harry suddenly felt breathless.

“Hey,” he exhaled. “You forgot this.”

Walking into your room as you stepped aside, quietly shutting the door behind him. He didn’t know why it felt so intimate, standing together in a closed room, but as soon as the door clicked closed, he felt his cheeks warm.

He glanced around your room, seeing that you hadn’t gotten that far in your packing either.

“I uh,” Harry stumbled over his words as you remained fairly quiet, grabbing the sketchpad from his hands. “I hate packing.” He grinned, happy to see your shoulders shake with a laugh as you agreed, sliding onto your bed.

“Me too,” you scoffed, not even wanting to be faced with everything you had to shove back into your bag. “Plus, prosecco’s making me sleepy.”

Harry tentatively sat next to you, watching as you flipped through the pages of your sketches. “You should keep the drawings of you.” You mumbled, starting to tear the pages out. “If you want.”

“You gotta keep this last one,” Harry’s voice was a quiet, as he watched you flip to the last drawing you had done of him, probably no less than twenty-four hours ago when he sat naked in front of you.

You didn’t miss the smug smirk that grew on his lips, as he glanced between you and the drawing that sat in front of you.

“And what do you suppose I do with it?”

“I’ll leave that up to you love.”

His eyes lingered as neither of you spoke for a moment too long. You jumped up suddenly, moving back towards the door as you knew you could easily be swayed to have Harry stay in your room.

“I should pack,” your voice coming out quieter than intended. Harry slowly rose from the bed, watching your turn to reach for the doorknob to usher him out of your room.

“Oh …!”

His hand came to grip your elbow, catching you by surprise as he pulled you closer until your body faced his.

Your eyes catching the gleam in Harry’s eyes as he puled you closer to him. “What are you…?” You watched as he shushed you, hand sliding down your arm until it gently held your own. You slightly fell back to lean against the wall behind you, hand remaining intertwined with Harry’s but just slightly moving back from him.

“Still wearing m’ shirt.” Was all he mumbled to you, as you glanced down to the shirt covering your body. It was the shirt Harry had put out for you last night as you crawled back into bed with him, shirt you had pulled on today as you went to pack up your clothes.

“Oh,” was all you could say, meeting his gaze again, expression unreadable. “I – I’ll get it back to your before I go.”

Eyes holding his, you watched with some relief as a grin dawned on his lips. “Love,” he drawled out, hands reaching back out to you, grabbing hold of your arms, fingertips trailing down your skin until his hands clasped with yours.

“As much as I’d like you to take your shirt off for me right now,” his smirk deepened, dimple on his cheek, tugging you to him. “Keep it.”

“Harry,” his name was a whisper from your lips, trying to bite back your growing smile.

“Just wanted,” he mumbled, instinctively licking his lips. One of his hands let go of yours, sliding around to the small of your back.

Your breath hitched as he moved in closer to you, mouth suddenly on yours. You leaned in against him, hand reaching up to his jaw. He kissed you slowly, tongue smoothing against yours as he gripped into the fabric of his shirt that hung off your back. Your body was completely embracing his, responding and returning his every movement.

His kisses were slow and hot, drawing you in for more the longer you went on. They were different from yesterday, not as urgent but just as fervent. He left you completely breathless as he pulled away for a moment, face staying inches away form yours.

“Just wanted a taste,” he rasped, hand squeezing your hip. “Kicking myself for not kissing you all day.”

“Needed an excuse to come on over, just to kiss me?” You giggled, still slightly breathless.

“Well,” he grinned, hands resting just under your shirt as his thumbs rubbed small circles onto the skin of your hips. “Didn’t want to just barge into your room, not very gentlemanly.”

“I uh,” he paused, not giving you a chance to say anything. “I’m really gonna miss you.” Your expression softened at his words, cheeks warming up. “Going to miss you too Harry.”

“Meant what I said las’ night, too.” He hummed, as every dirty thing he muttered to you flashed through your mind. “Wanted you – wanting you,” he quickly corrected himself. “I – I think about you all the time, love.”

Cheeks warming even more, you thought over his words. “You don’t have to say anything,” he added. “I just,” he pulled his lips between his teeth for a moment. “Jus’ needed to say something.”

“Harry… don’t worry about it,” you whispered, voice soft as his words made you smile. “I, uh, I meant what I said last night too.” You spoke quietly, almost unsure of yourself.

A smirk returned to Harry’s lips. “What exactly? Said a lot last night, love.” Memories of you begging, and whining for him rang through his ears. He watched you take your bottom lip between your teeth, hesitating before speaking.

“About – everything.” You breathed out, not trusting yourself to say too much. A beat of silence passed between the two of you.

“I should really pack. I leave in nearly an hour.” You mumbled, knowing that if you didn’t say anything he might end up in the bed with you.

“Wait!” Harry said, voice louder as he stopped you from leaving. “Humour me love,” he paused, beaming at you. “What exactly from what you said last night?”

“Need a good ego stroke that’s it?” You grinned, shaking your head at him.

“C’mon love,” he grinned down at you as you shuffled closer to him, chest pressing against his as you glanced up at him. “Bore my soul to you, least you can do no?”

You perched your head up, lips nearing his ear. “Well,” you paused, lips brushing over the skin of his jaw. “Meant what I said about thinking about you,” pausing, you moved closer to his ear, voice dropping. “Filling me, making me cum.”

Harry visibly gulped; eyes intense on you. “You are,” he paused, leaning forward as his mouth chased yours. “Incredible.” The word was muffled as his mouth found yours. His grip on you tightened, one hand sliding on your skin, under your shirt, until it met the small of your back again.

Harry kissed you heavily once again, mouth hot, silently calling you closer to him. “Jus’ one more, yeah?” He mumbled; voice low as he only pulled away for a second.

Just as he said, pushed himself close against you and left one long, deep, kiss to your mouth.

He brought a hand up to your cheek, holding your face still, holding your gaze. “So incredible, y’know that?”

“Think you mentioned that.” You grinned, already missing his mouth on yours.

“Got to tell you again,” he mumbled, pressing a chaste kiss to your mouth. “Consider this a going away present.”

Harry gave your hand one more squeeze, before reaching for the doorknob. You couldn’t stop the smile still tugging at the corner of your lips, the feeling of Harry’s mouth still on yours.

You were glad to know that the both of you were seemingly on the same page, both attracted to the other. Part of you knew that nothing was really clear with you guys, that both of you had said that ‘nothing would change’, but that was something to worry about later.

For now, you reveled in the way his lips moved with yours, the way his hands tugged you closer to him.

Rushing through your packing, as you felt yourself stuck in a daze. Part from a sudden hit of exhaustion, part from the effect Harry had left. You told yourself that you would sleep on the train, the ride being longer than it needed as it passed through Switzerland and made multiple stops before you reached your destination.

Finalizing everything that needed to get packed up, you headed over to the kitchen to grab some food for the ride. You had bought some extra pastries and fruits for yourself yesterday, knowing you would want to eat during your ride.

You were surprised to see Harry already in the kitchen, shuffling around as he placed fruit into a little bag. “Hey,” he smiled up at you, beginning of a setting sun glowing orange from behind him.

“What are you doing?”

He grinned, passing you the bag he was holding. “Some food for your trip.”

Sucking your lips between your teeth, you try to hide your smile. He had already prepared you a little bag of treats, one that you were going to grab for yourself. “Thank you,”

After trying your best to quickly pack, you spend the little time you had left to draw a little something for Harry. You were a bit nervous, thinking that maybe you shouldn’t slip the folded drawing into Harry’s things. But now, you were certain you needed to.

“One sec,” you mumbled, stepping away from him and quietly making your way back to your room. Grabbing the folded paper where you had left it, you went to head over to Harry’s room to place it with his things, but found Harry waiting for you in the hallway.

“Open this later,” you whispered, sliding it in his palm.

“You better be ready to go!”

Voice pulling you away from Harry, as the rest of your group crowded around you, swarming you with hugs and goodbyes.

Harry had pulled you in extra tight with his goodbye, as you sank into his arms. He muttered a quiet “goodbye love” into your hair, not wanting to let you go. Still, he knew he had to pull away, fingertips trailing down you arms as he didn’t want to fully let you go.

He did have to let go though, and you did have to leave.

After you left, Harry made up some excuse about wanting to finish packing now, before shutting his room door behind him. Fidgeting with the paper still in his hands, quickly unfolding it.

Fuck.

His mouth gaped open as his eyes focused on the drawing you had done for him. Eyes skimming over every line and detail on the page, all coming together to shape your figure.

Your very naked figure.

It was your entire body, slightly bent as if you were sitting back against the head board of a bed. One leg folded up as the other one extended out, knees just slightly parted. It was all done just in pencil, just like the sketches you had done of Harry. Your face in the image wasn’t too detailed, but unmistakably you. The sketch was all a bit rough, lines skewing out everywhere, but Harry didn’t care.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the drawing, feeling his cock twitch in his pants. He almost felt bad, like he shouldn’t be getting hot and bothered from such a delicately sketched drawing. Although nude, there was something so elegant about it. This wasn’t something quick to get off on, it was something for him to really remember you by.

Still, as he took in every curve and bend in your body, remembering the way his hands felt on you, the way your body felt with his, he felt his mouth go dry. He picked up his phone, wanting to text you even though you had just left.

“Beautiful drawing as usual.”

You glanced down at your phone, rereading Harry’s text for the fifth time. You chewed at your lip, unable to keep the smile from your lips. Having just arrived at the station and already having purchased your ticket before hand, you made your way to wait for your train that had yet to arrive.

“Just something to help keep you occupied.”

Just as your phone buzzed in your hands, your cheeks warmed as you read is words.

“Trust me love, won’t be able to get you out of my mind.”

[fumingspice]

Like Never Before (ii)

Part: One

I would literally rather only drink ocean spray cranberry juice for the rest of my life than have kids so if this reads like i was dying while writing it then that’s why xo

taglist: @sarahp-stan @jumpoffabridge-t @sarahpaulsonsoftie @definitelynot-a-writer @bottom4delia @delias-bitch-craft @creepingwolfberry @thesapphictimelady @goodeday2u @that-fucking-error @saucy-sapphic @sarahp-stan​

i wish you all the love in the world, but most of all i wish it from myself.

You watched Billie as she glided across the room. Christ, even with her sweatpants and messy hair she was still an absolute vision.

“Honey, for the love of God, can you please let me do something?” You asked, chuckling at how she darted from stirring the eggs to packing an overnight bag to trying to build an Ikea cradle.

“Instruction manuals are for wimps,” were her exact words five hours ago when she took the parts out. “It will be up in a jiffy.”

It was not up in a jiffy.

Billie plated the eggs and moved back to the box load of wooden bits and pieces, sorting through and assembling the bed with her toolkit. You almost admired the image of her handiness, even though you knew fully well that the look of concentration and furrowed brows were masking the fact that she had locked herself into a commitment to build the cot without looking at directions. She was going to drive herself insane if she didn’t get it right. Billie wasn’t necessarily bad at putting things together; you had often let her help you put furniture together before your pregnancy took over most of your day. On the other hand, that certainly didn’t mean she was in any way, shape, or form good at building furniture. You knew that the cradle would look more like a misshapen table.

She was still adorable.

“No, baby. I’m not risking giving you any stress. Christ, one wrong move and it will be a literal baby shower,” she replied, scooting over to kiss your cheek. “Let me do this for you, hm? Then I’ll run us a nice bath before we go to the hospital.”

You grinned at Billie’s nurturing side. “Fine,” you said, caressing her cheek in your hand. “Just make sure you build that right, if our baby falls through the floor on the first night home then I’m not going to be very pleased with you Ms. Howard.”

Your girlfriend frowned. “Do you really want to mess with me while I’m holding a screwdriver?”

Now, that made you chuckle.

“You had to spend fifteen minutes trying to figure out if you were holding it right.”

Billie rolled her eyes at you and stood up. “You know what? I think he’ll enjoy it more if he’s able to sleep with his moms,” she said, pulling you into her chest. You could sense her exhaustion no matter how well she played it off.

You tilted your head to look up at her. Her brown eyes, although excited and lively were worn down a little bit, and a faded purple colour lay beneath. “Baby?” You spoke after a little while, causing her to jolt slightly.

“Hm? Are you okay?”

“How about that bath?” You suggested, Billie smiled warmly and ruffled your hair before pulling you up and walking you to the bathroom.

Thankfully, your bedroom was only down the hall given that you’d finally moved into her house. The door was also a lot wider. Very convenient in this situation.

Billie dipped her hand into the water to mix the bubbles in, gathering some up in her hand and dropping the foam on your head. “You look like the cotton candy man from Scooby Doo,” she giggled, giving you a matching beard. You laughed together as she helped you undress, her hands gliding softly down your skin in admiration. “My God, you’re exquisite.”

She took your arm and helped you into the bath, smiling as you gasped at the warmth. It was almost perfect.

You tugged her arm, trying to signal what you wanted without actually speaking. The warmth of the water and the scent of the bubble bath had given a relaxing aroma. In short, you were too lazy too speak.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” she cooed, her fingers twirling in the water. You raised an eyebrow. “You want me to join you?”

You nodded enthusiastically, watching as she stripped off and eased herself into the water behind you. “Jesus, fuck. Shit. Fuck. Shit. Fuck,” she muttered. Warm baths were never really her thing. Billie always preferred showers. Both alone and accompanied, but recently she had started opting for baths, enjoying the feeling of you laying back against her stomach. The feeling of protecting you in some way gave her somewhat the same satisfaction as an orgasm.

Billie let out a sigh as the water flowed gently around you both, her hands laying on you waist and stomach and her head rested on your shoulder. She was silent. That was one of the best indicators to tell you she was tired.

Your body jerked, reacting to Braxton Hicks. Billie snapped alert immediately.

"Relax, Billie. I'd tell you if something was wrong," you cooed, your hand reaching her cheek and caressing it softly.

"I don't want to miss anything," she mumbled in response. The blonde kissed your shoulder and neck, each touch sending fiery affection through you. You rolled your head back, letting her kiss further to your cheek and ending it with a deep kiss.

Her lips tasted sweet.

"Baby, you know we can't do anything," you whispered, turning to try and get a better angle at Billie's mouth.

She grinned into you. "We both know you're telling yourself that, Y/N," she replied. Her lips were graceful on you.

Hilarious.

Billie got out of the bath and toweled off, turning to help you out when she ready. There was something about Billie-Dean in this attire. No make-up, her hair slicked back from the water, the way her collar bones gilded her shoulders. You bit your lip as she guided you to bed when you were dressed.

She was out like a light as soon as she was relaxed, her hand never leaving yours. Even if she was too tired to snuggle right into you, there was never a nighy where she wouldn't make some form of contact before falling asleep.

Of course, as you lay awake, something in you was stirring you. Not allowing you to sleep.

Probably the human growing in you, but who knows.

Hours passed as you watched the light from the moon travel from the wall to the floor and disappear.

It happened so quickly that you snapped into an upright position, cursing as you flew.

Billie snapped up you, sensing your hand leave hers. "What's wrong, sweetheart?" she asked, laying her hand on your shoulder.

"Fuck. Shit. Shit. Fuck. Shit," you panicked. Your breathing short and quick. "Billie, I think my water's broken."

Billie's brown eyes widened. "Oh, Mary Mother of Jesus on a tandem bike," she swore, grabbing her car keys from the bedside table and shoving her feet into her shoes.

She tripped on the rug and staggered over to your side of the bed with a towel, pressing it against your leg. “Okay. Okay, how are we feeling, sweetheart?” She asked, breathless with apprehension.

You shrugged. The shock of the moment had rendered your ability to process thoughts absolutely useless. Your contractions were barely noticeable. More like short pulse-cramps than anything noticeable. Billie’s fingers laced through yours as you explained.

“I’ll phone Dr. McCool and ask what to do,” Billie said, pushing your hair behind your ear and giving your forehead a quick kiss.

She left to get the phone, hearing her apologising for the late call. 

  Billie sat still, ushering soothing words and not complaining despite how hard you were gripping her hand.

Hours felt like days at this stage. The pain was a nightmare. Words couldn’t describe the relief that you felt whenever the midwife told you to stop pushing. You choked a cry in relief and fell into Billie.

“Easy, sweetheart. You did it,” she whispered, holding you tight against her and kissing your head. Her voice was breaking as she spoke. For a moment, everything disappeared as you just melted right into her. A sudden and loud cry broke you from your trance as you snapped back to reality.

Your head perked up as you saw a nurse holding your baby, small and crying.

“Oh, my God,” you said to no one in particular. Tears were falling down your cheeks freely as you tried to process what was actually happening.

Just when you thought things couldn’t get anymore overwhelming, James walked into the room. Billie tensed up immediately, following his gaze to the baby. You could tell that if she weren’t so overcome with joy she would have harden up at his look of happiness.

“Y/N,” he said, walking over and squeezing your hand. “Y/F/N called. I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner; I was at a bachelors’ party.”

You felt Billie tense slightly around you. She was sensitive about the fact that James was the baby’s father. There was no issue of jealousy. There was certainly no lack of trust. James had even made it clear that he would respect Billie’s boundaries when it came down to visiting. It was the simple fact that it wasn’t her that boiled her over sometimes.

You smiled at him as the nurse passed the baby to you. “Congratulations!” She spoke. “It’s a healthy baby boy!” Billie’s bets were right. You frowned internally at the idea of not guessing right.

Then you remembered that the only thing she had “won” was getting eaten out for twenty minutes straight.

It was a win-win situation.

Billie gasped as the baby lay against your chest. You turned around to look at her, brown eyes framed with tears locked in awe. “Babygirl, look what you did,” she cooed, kissing your temple. You nuzzled against her, seeking a kiss on the lips. It was a new feeling, the one where you know you’ve hit a long-time achievement. Billie was yours. You were hers. There was even an unexpected bonus.

Another doctor came in. “Hello!” She chirped. She moved in to shake James’ hand. “I presume you are the father?”

James smiled, about to agree. He caught Billie’s pursed lips and avoiding glance. “Somewhat,” he replied. Billie looked right at him for the first time since he’d arrived. “Although, I think that’s more Billie’s station.” He motioned at your girlfriend, whose breathe hitched and chuckled in an exhale of relief.

“Thank you,” you mouthed at him, feeling Billie relax at his words. The  doctor gestured for Billie to come over. Something about signing some document. She held you carefully so as not to disturb you. James took the chair beside your bed.

“He’s almost as good looking as me,” he joked, nudging your elbow. You shook your head at him and chuckled. “He does have your massive head though.”

You glared at him in shock, completely forgetting his sense of humour in the moment. “I swear on my life if this boy turns out like you, I’m putting him in the bin,” you teased. It couldn’t be further from the truth. Little features. Little fingers wrapped around one of yours. He had big dark, brown eyes. He had eyes like Billie.

“Let’s hope he doesn’t turn out devilishly handsome for his own sake then,” he replied.

“Would you like to hold him?”

James paused slightly and glanced at Billie, who was still reading over some papers. He nodded towards her. “Will she be okay with it?”

You nodded, passing him the child gently. His holding skills were terrible. “Jesus, James. Try not to drop him, please.”

James rolled his eyes and corrected himself. “Hey, little guy,” he cooed. Talking to him in little bursts. He got up and your heart dropped, knowing that James was an absolute clutz. Much to your relief, he didn’t drop the baby. You had no idea what he was doing until you saw him walk right over to Billie, who was surprised to see him.

“I think this is yours,” he said.

Of all the things he could have said.

Billie looked from him to the baby and back, taking him in her arms against her chest. Her head lay against the little body as she pursed her lips, trying hard to hold back tears. “Oh, James,” she whispered. She moved close and hugged him with her free arm. “Thank you so much.”

Billie returned to your side, tears now having fallen freely. “He’s so beautiful, Y/N.”

You cried, and snuggled into her. “We need to think of a name,” you said, kissing Billie’s shoulder. 

“What were you thinking, mommy?” Billie asked. Then stopped. “Hm,” she said. “Never thought it would be me calling you that.”

The nurse coughed. “I’m still in here.”

Billie’s face flashed a deep red. “Sorry.”

The nurse ducked out before he had to hear any of Billie’s other inuendos.

“I like the name Tate,” James suggested. Billie shot him a thousand dagger stare.

“No.”

“Come on, it’s a nice-”

“I will kill you and make it look like an accident.”

You nudged Billie with your hand. “James Dean?”

Your ex and your girlfriend glared at you.

“Here’s me thinking I was bad at choosing names.”

Billie pondered for a moment. “I like Lachlan.”

You nodded. “Lachlan.” You liked it. “Welcome to the world, Lachlan.”

[sirtwentyofhousegoodmen]

Arcturus at Orion's birth plz

July 5th, 1929

"Papa!"

Arcturus shifted his gaze from the newspaper to the four year old girl sat on his lap, who looked up at him, beseechingly.

"What is it?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Can you read me a story?"

Arcturus rolled his eyes heavenward, and before he could tell the little hoyden to go bother her mother for one, he was hit with the reminder that Melania was rather occupied birthing his son at the moment.

He sighed—he'd come to his study to hide from his blasted uncles, cousins and siblings, all eagerly awaiting news of the Black heir's arrival with champagne and cigars, a noticeably more jovial celebration than there was at Lucretia's birth. No wonder, as Phineas Nigellus was no longer there to scream at everyone for their shortcomings.

Knowing that Lucretia inherited his strong will, and not having the energy to send her away after being awake for the past twenty hours, he begrudgingly put down his newspaper and, with a lazy swish of his wand, plucked an old storybook out of the bookcase.

"Just this once, Lucretia Black," He warned her, "Your father hasn't the time for such nonsense—so don't get any ideas about this being a regular occurrence."

Lucretia nodded, black curls bobbing up and down with each motion, and leaned back down onto his chest, waiting for him to begin.

It was one of Melania's books that she'd left in his study—they often took lunch there together, though rather than engage in conversation, an activity neither really favored, husband and wife preffered to read in each other's companionable silence.

It seemed innocuous enough—besides, it wasn't as if he could read Lucretia the tome he'd just acquired on Egyptian blood magic.

"It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife."

Arcturus raised his eyebrows at that, then nodded in approval at the statement. This was precisely the sort of thing an impressionable young girl like Lucretia should be reading.

As he continued, his voice grew softer and softer, owing to Lucretia's slowing breaths and drooping eyelids, but also to the fact that he was growing rather invested in the plot himself. He would never read this womanish dreck if Lucretia weren't here of course, but it was decently written, all in all.

The sound of the study door creaking open made Arcturus stop, but before he could look up to see who'd disturbed them, Lucretia said the last thing he wanted her to say at that moment.

"Burgie!!"

The girl in question darted into the room, a blur of black curls and white lace that Irma had trapped her in from head to toe.

Pollux's daughter was a terror. She looked innocent enough: all neat black curls and bright blue-grey eyes, but she was constantly running circles around her parents, and there wasn't an order in the world she couldn't flagrantly disobey. Unfortunately for him, Lucretia had taken to her cousin from the first—the girls were practically inseperable. In the first three years, it was often quite difficult to tell them apart—though now their faces were taking their own distinct shapes.

"Where were you, Lucy?" Walburga asked, her arms crossed and her face a mask of supreme churlishness.

"I found Papa," Lucretia said, as if the fact was a complete justification. "He's reading me a story."

Walburga turned her—far too sharp—gaze to him, and pouted. "I want to hear the story."

Arcturus's first reaction was a strong no—but then he realized that word didn't exist in Walburga's vocabulary, and if he were to introduce her to it now he'd be getting an earful from both her and her shrew of a mother.

Sighing, he ran a hand over his face. "I hate my life," he muttered to himself.

Walburga seemed to take that as a 'yes', as she climbed atop the couch and burrowed herself into his other side. Without a clue as to what to do, he just gaped at her nerve while she smiled up at him, looking damn near catlike.

"Go on, Cousin Arcturus," He narrowed his eyes at the cheeky, yet accurate form of address. The chit was good, he'll give her that. "Read!"

He raised an eyebrow. "Do you speak to your father that way, young lady?"

"Yes."

Arcturus blinked, then snorted. "Fair enough. But I'm not your father, so you'll take care to watch your tone when you speak to me."

She sighed, sulkily. "Yes, Cousin Arcturus."

Giving her a final stern glance, he put his focus back into the book and read until the two girls' breaths grew slow, and their eyes closed. Finally seeing they were asleep, he made to get up, then came to a crushing realization.

The bloody chits had him pinned to the infernal sofa.

Sighing, he made to lift Lucretia off of his left side but the girl had her arms firmly wrapped around his middle, and any sort of strong movement would have woken her—and in turn Walburga.

Turning to Walburga, he debated the merits of whether or not to pry her off him as well. On the one hand, she wasn't his (she'd be a damn sight less impudent if she were) and he did not want to be any more familiar than he already was . On the other hand, he was the official head of the family and he'd be damned if he was going to miss his son's birth over a sleeping hoyden.

Thankfully, the debate ended when the study door creaked open and Pollux came in, a sheen of sweat on his forehead—he'd never taken to cigars that well—and a glass of champagne in hand, beaming.

"Arcturus, it's—"

"Can you get your blasted daughter off me before you say what you have to say, Pollux?"

Pollux' seemed to take notice of his other companions and their state, as his eyes widened and he promptly put down his cigar and champagne flute on the table nearest them, and in one swift motion lifted up his daughter into his arms.

"Apologies, Arcturus," Pollux said, lightly rubbing a mildly fussy Walburga's back as she settled into her new position. "She can be a bit of a handful sometimes, our Burgie."

Arcturus raised an eyebrow in dissaproval at the look of pure adoration on his cousin's face at his daughter. First Irma, now Walburga—he was starting to get the feeling that Pollux actually liked his women impertinent.

How droll.

"Yes," he answered instead, "She certainly can. Anyhow, what is it you wanted to tell me, seeing as you've seen fit to come into my study?"

Pollux remembered himself then, and his bright smile was back. "Yes, of course—Congratulations are in order, old boy: You have a son."

Arcturus felt a wave of astonishment come over him, leaving him wide-eyed and dazed. "He's here?"

Pollux nodded. "Yes—Irma told us all that Melania's waiting for you upstairs."

Without another word in his cousin's direction he stood up, lifting Lucretia up with him, and all but ran upstairs, past all the well-wishers no doubt using his son's birth as an excuse to get plastered in the drawing room.

A son, an heir, a true heir! Ha!—Arcturus hoped that Phineas Nigellus had a good view of his triumph in hell, he wanted to see that old bastard eat his words.

The House of Black already had a male heir—Alphard's birth, though met with distinctly less fanfare since Melania's pregnancy had been announced by then, had been two months ago and his uncle Cygnus had not stopped crowing since. But this was different—Arcturus had an heir now, his own heir. A son to carry on his name and his legacy, a son to shape into a fine young man and to teach what it meant to be a proper black.

He reached the same oak door he'd gone through four years ago, and grabbing the handle, pushed it open.

Melania was on the bed, her face pale and drawn, and the healer beside her had his face set in a frown. Arcturus approached the man, the feeling of Lucretia’s hands around the back of his neck growing tighter.

“Is she alright?” He asked, without preamble.

“Ah, Mr. Black,” The rotund man took off his comically tiny, fogged-over pince-nez, cleaning them with his handkerchief. “Yes, I assure you—Mrs. Black is doing perfectly well, as is your son. The birth was rather strenuous on her, I’m afraid.”

“How strenuous?”

The man grimaced. “She’ll be perfectly fine—but I wouldn’t advise having another for at least a few years. I don’t think her body could take it.”

Arcturus furrowed his brow, shocked. “What? She did perfectly well with Lucretia.”

“The boy was larger than Lucretia,” The healer said, as if he were indulging a dim-witted child, which only served to raise his hackles. “Combined with the birth being four times longer, it’s no wonder she’s unwell. Rest assured, she’ll be perfectly fine with some bed-rest, and in a few years, if you still want another, we can certainly discuss what paths we could take on that front.”

Before Arcturus could convey his supreme outrage at being spoken to in such a way, the jolly man had the audacity to give him a pat on the back, and direct him to the crib where they’d put his son. Gingerly, he put Lucretia onto a chaise in the corner of the room, and approached the crib with trepidation.

When he caught sight of his son, he felt the breath leave him.

The boy was his mother’s spitting image—brown hair, large, owlish eyes, and pudgy red cheeks. The only feature he’d inherited from his father were those classic steely gray eyes that most Blacks were blessed with.

Carefully, he lifted him from his crib, and positioned him properly in his arms. The boy stirred, before wiggling a bit more and turning his new eyes up to peer at his father.

His son. His son.

Arcturus had never felt more proud in his life. All the tests, the trials, every single accomplishment in his life paled in comparison to this one. His son was the totality of all his efforts, the ultimate triumph.

But there was something else. Something more.

His thoughts were disturbed by the sound of Melania’s stirring from the other side of the room, and, remembering himself, he approached her with their son in tow.

“Remember, Mr. Black, she’s too weak to hold him at present—I’d advise keeping a safe distance.”

Arcturus gave the man a glare, and he rightly looked cowed, excusing himself and all but running from the room. Taking a seat at the edge of the bed, he looked over at his wife, who was just beginning to wake.

“Arcturus?” She asked, her voice tired and muddled.

"I'm here, Melly," He told her, taking his free hand and using it to wipe off the sheen of sweat that had gathered on her forehead.

Melania opened her eyes, blearily, and when she looked over at him with their son, gave them both a shaky smile. "How is he?"

"Perfect," Arcturus replied, meaning it more than he'd ever meant anything in his life. "He's perfect—your spitting image."

"Really?" She peered over at his face. "I rather thought he took after you."

"He has my eyes," he told her, bringing their boy closer. "The rest is all yours."

She sighed. "Is he right? I can't have any more?"

Arcturus blinked. The healer had told him she might very well have another in a few years, but they'd told his mother the same. He didn't want to risk it—wizards had not perfected the art of childbirth and h wasn't about to take her to a muggle so he could cut her open like some fish.

The thought of Melania on the bed, like mother, covered in pustules, soft, sweet voice meant for songs gone wheezy and delirious—No. No, he wasn't going to let that happen. He couldn't let that happen.

"Yes," Arcturus said, decision made. "It's not safe for you. We won't be having anymore."

Her face turned doleful then. "Oh."

They sat in a sort of awkward silence then while Arcturus kept smiling down at their son, until it was broken by the sound of a slight sniffle.

"I'm sorry."

Arcturus started at the words, then turned to meet his wife's eyes, which had become wet with tears.

"What?" He asked, mildly annoyed at the fact he had to deal with womanish drama today of all days.

"I failed you. I can't give you more children—what kind of a wife am I?"

Melania's face seemed to be a mixture between dawning horror at the fact that she'd failed in her duties and genuine sadness that she'd never experience what it was like to hold another baby of hers in her arms again.

Arcturus moved to cut off the stream of tears before it became too much for either of them.

"You've given me an heir, and a daughter," Arcturus pointed out, voice measured. "There's nothing else expected of you."

"You should have more," She said, shaking her head, her breaths growing shorter. "I wanted more." The last sentence was spoken in a kind of hushed tone.

"More are not worth your health, Melania." Arcturus groaned, was she truly under the impression she'd failed him? Had he ever intimated he wanted a house full of little rapscallions running about? He didn't—two was more than enough.

"That's not—"

"It is, and it is the final word we will have on this subject." Arcturus sighed. "You will not die, Melania. Not for one more son, nor for ten. You, Lucretia, and the boy are all I need. You are all..." he cleared his throat, uncomfortably, "...more than I could ever deserve. I have an heir—Now, all that matters is you and the children. Nothing more."

Melania looked at him, flabbergasted at how candid he'd gotten, before nodding, still dumbstruck. "As you say."

Arcturus pretended not to notice her smile of relief, nor the overly loving way she was looking at him.

Those emotions made him...uneasy.

"Orion," Melania said, thought it came out as half a question. She elaborated at Arcturus's raised eyebrow. "I was reading a book on Black names when I went into labor. The one I liked best was Orion—I thought to bring it to you to see if you approved."

Arcturus raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised that his slip of a wife had gathered the nerve to put forth a name herself. Orion...Yes, it was a good name. A strong name—The Hunter. One of the only good memories he had left of his father had been sitting in his study, asking him to point out all the names of the stars enchanted into the ceiling—Orion had always been his favorite.

"Orion Arcturus Black," Arcturus said, nodding in approval. "A good name, Melly. I approve."

Melania beamed—though she promptly grimaced.

"Are you in a lot of pain?" She nodded. "Not to worry—I'll find that fat old man and order him to give my wife as much pain potion as she damn well wants."

He gave her a kiss to the forehead. "She deserves it."

[fangirlingtodeath513]

eyes on the prize | a destiel fanfic explicit, PWP, no archive warnings apply, 1.8k words

It all started with a simple, innocent text. Okay, maybe not innocent. Castiel had woken up to a cold, empty bed. He’d been used to having Dean around during quarantine, but now that the world was finally back in order, at least for the most part, Castiel’s constant now was a frigid, too-large bed.

Today, though... today he’d woken up rock-hard, a whisper of Dean’s name on his lips as he was finally dragged from the glorious, pleasure-filled dream into the real world. He rolls over to grab for Dean and that’s when the reality hits him: Dean’s at work and Castiel’s alone. So, rather than taking care of his hard-on himself, he rolls over and feels around the nightstand for his cell phone.

In his opinion, the photo he sends is rather tasteful. He leaves his briefs on and grips his shaft through them, just enough that the outline of his obviously hard cock is visible but no skin is showing. It’s a lot more tasteful than other pictures he’s sent to Dean, at least. 

He doesn’t hear back from Dean, which is odd. He texts again at lunch to wish him a wonderful rest of his day, but his text goes unanswered yet again. It throws him off his rhythm, so he doesn’t even manage to finish the painting he’d been working on for a client. He doesn’t have to ship it for another week, thankfully, so he eventually just gives up and wanders into the kitchen. He ends up making dinner—Dean’s favorite, just in case he’d inadvertently angered or embarrassed Dean with his photo—and becomes so engrossed that he doesn’t even hear the apartment door open. 

Dean’s keys clattering onto the table near the door is what draws his attention. He turns to find his husband hastily removing his jacket and just dropping it on the floor. Castiel opens his mouth to tell him to hang it up but then watches the frantic energy that Dean has as he toes his shoes off and makes for the kitchen, eyes locked on him with a mix of hunger and something else that Castiel can’t put his finger on.

He’s barely able to put down the spatula he’d been using before Dean’s crowding him against the counter and kissing him within an inch of his life. It leaves him breathless, dizzy, and delightedly confused when Dean finally pulls away, though he just moves to kiss his way down Castiel’s neck. He tilts his head without a second thought, threading his fingers through Dean’s hair.

“Well hello to you, too,” Castiel murmurs, a ghost of a laugh in his tone. 

Dean scoffs against his neck, leaning back just enough to shoot Castiel a look of incredulity. “Hello? You expect me to say hello when I’ve spent the entire day hiding behind my desk, rock fucking hard because I knew you were at home getting yourself off and all I could do was stare at my computer screen and think about it?” 

Castiel grins, albeit a little sheepishly, and brushes his fingers through the hair at the back of Dean’s head. “I’d apologize, but I’m not very sorry. I missed you this morning. I figured you’d enjoy a small—“ Dean scoffs at the notion that Castiel is in any way small, to Castiel’s simultaneous joy and embarrassment “—reminder of our lazy days in bed. I apologize if it ruined your day.”

Dean grunts, shuffling away from Castiel. For a moment, Castiel worries his apology has been too effective and ruined the mood, but then Dean shuts off the stove burners and moves the half-cooked food off the heat. 

“Dean, I—“ He doesn’t get to finish his protests. Dean’s lips are back on his and after just a moment, Dean bends and grabs Castiel behind the knees, hauling him into Dean’s arms. Dean tends to be the more submissive one in the bedroom, so the unusual show of strength rips a throaty groan from Castiel. It seems to only spur Dean on as he turns and heads for their bedroom, his lips never once leaving Castiel’s skin.

He’s deposited rather unceremoniously onto their bed, though he can’t really complain. Dean’s disheveled, his obvious erection straining in his dress pants as he stands above Castiel, seemingly drinking in the sight of him. Castiel leans back on his forearms, smirking up at his husband.

“Enjoying the view?”

Dean hums noncommittally, which simply won’t do. Castiel keeps his eyes locked on Dean’s face, slipping his hand down to grip his own erection through his sweatpants. Dean’s sweatpants, his brain helpfully supplies, but the action seems to have the effect Castiel was hoping for. Dean’s knees waver and he licks his lips, eyes flickering up to Castiel’s face. There’s a hint of defiance twinkling in his eyes, though the question behind them is still rather obvious.

“Go ahead,” Castiel encourages, a smirk curling his lips. “Show me what you’ve been thinking about all day, my love.” 

Dean shivers at the endearment as he sinks to his knees, which are thankfully protected at least a little by the plush carpet of their bedroom—something they’d argued about for months before Castiel had eventually won. He’s sure Dean’s knees thank him every time they settle into that softness rather than an unforgiving hardwood floor. 

Dean’s fingers are cold when they curl around Castiel’s hips, frozen by the bitter winter temperatures of the northeast. Perhaps he’s just feverish with arousal. Maybe it’s a combination of both. He doesn’t really care. All he can focus on is Dean’s fingers as he tugs Castiel’s sweatpants and briefs off, leaving them bunched around his thighs as he presses his tongue to the ridge on the underside of Castiel’s cock, making him gasp and curl his fingers into the sheets. Dean seems to take pleasure in the response, his cold, broad hands trailing up and down Castiel’s thighs as he licks and teases and sucks his cock, his cartoonishly plump lips easily swallowing Castiel to the root. He could come just like this—has several times, in fact—but that��s not what’s on the agenda for tonight. Dean’s been looking forward to this since Castiel texted him earlier and Castiel won’t deprive his husband of his fantasies. God knows they’ve acted out enough of both of their fantasies. 

“Earth to Castiel,” Dean murmurs against the skin of his hip, pressing a gentle kiss there. Castiel blinks down at him, brushing his fingers through Dean’s hair gently.

“I’m here,” he assures, a soft smile on his lips. He brushes a thumb over the collection of freckles beneath Dean’s left eye, letting out a pleased hum when Dean leans into the touch. “Why don’t you come up here, hm? You deserve a reward for my teasing today,” Castiel murmurs, dipping his thumb into Dean’s mouth. Dean instantly closes his lips around it, teasing the pad with his tongue. “Fuck, Dean.” It’s a whisper more than anything, but Dean’s eyes roll up to look at him and he can see just how pleased his husband is with the response. Smirking, Castiel hauls him up onto the bed and swaps positions, discarding his sweats and briefs as he straddles Dean’s waist. The slide of their erections against each other makes them both gasp, Dean’s hands scrambling for Castiel’s waist. 

“God, dreamed about this all day. About what would’ve happened if I’d been home.”

Castiel smirks as he rolls his hips lazily, fingers tracing Dean’s nipples through the fabric of his dress shirt. “Yeah? And what did you imagine would have happened?”

Dean arches into the touch, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he sucks in a breath. “That you’d roll over and just take me. I’d still be loose from last night so you could work me open before I even opened my eyes.” Dean shivers as Castiel’s blunt nails scrape over his erection through his dress pants, whimpering quietly.

“Keep going,” Castiel encourages, rewarding Dean’s cooperation by unbuttoning his dress shirt and helping his husband out of it. Castiel closes his lips around Dean’s left nipple as Dean begins to speak again.

“O-or maybe you’d leave me like that. Not prepped all the way. Then I’d wake up to your cock in me, the burn of you stretching me open...” He trails off as Castiel bites down on his nipple, grabbing onto his shoulder tightly. “Oh, Cas, fuck.”

Castiel smirks, laving his tongue over his nipple gently. “That’s the plan.”

He can’t quite see Dean roll his eyes, but he knows his husband well enough to know that he most certainly does. Dean has his fair share of stupid puns most days, so Castiel has no problem reciprocating. 

“Perhaps we can fulfill that fantasy in the morning,” Castiel murmurs, his fingers slipping down to brush over Dean’s hole. He nearly comes when he finds Dean already prepped, his body ready and waiting to swallow Castiel’s cock. “God, Dean, you prepped yourself at work?”

He looks up to find Dean smirking at him as he winds his legs around Castiel’s waist. “I told you, Cas. Been lookin’ forward to this all day.”

Castiel shivers at the image of Dean prepping himself in his office, knowing he could be walked in on at any point, and leans over to grab the lube in their nightstand. He doesn’t waste any time divesting them both of the rest of their clothes, slicking his cock, and sinking into Dean. They both gasp at the feeling. Dean clutches at Castiel’s shoulders and Castiel can’t find the drive within himself to take this slow. Dean’s been waiting for this and honestly? He kind of has, too.

Dean’s legs tighten around his waist as Castiel puts more force behind his thrusts. Their kisses turn more into them just sharing breaths and moans and gasps than actually kissing. He can’t complain about that, though. It only makes it feel all the more intimate.

He can tell the moment Dean’s about to come. His hands slip down to Castiel’s biceps, gripping tightly as he buries his face in the crook of Castiel’s neck. Dean always gets quiet and clingy when he’s close and Castiel fucking loves it. Dean comes with his arms wrapped around Castiel’s shoulders, clinging to his husband as if his life depends on it. Castiel isn’t very far behind, capturing Dean’s lips in a warm kiss that makes his heart skip a beat as he comes, cradling his husband in his arms.

He gives himself a moment to catch his breath before carefully shuffling them onto the bed, holding Dean tightly and kissing his forehead. “All day, huh?”

Dean snorts. “Been thinkin’ about that, have you? Yes, all day. That picture was… mmm.”

Castiel grins and leans over to kiss his husband quickly. “I”m glad you liked it.”

“Hm,” Dean answers, resting his head on Castiel’s shoulder. “I think I’d like those burgers I saw on the way in even more.”

Castiel laughs, though he happily obliges with a fond shake of his head. They don’t bother to dress, just throw on their matching robes and head for the kitchen. Their burgers may get a little burnt while Dean satiates his appetite for Castiel once again, but neither of them mind.

[solomonish]

From the Mouths of Fools

Belphegor has a habit of forcing his brothers into trouble, mostly with you. There’s nothing more satisfying than the look of horror on their face when they think they must have dashed their chances with you and that they’re digging the hole deeper. Each time, you reach out a hand and ease their worries, and Belphegor’s stomach twists as you tell them with kind eyes not to worry, that they’re very sweet. Why did you have to be such a spoilsport?

(also posted on ao3 @ treetunkdaddy)

Poems:  A Red, Red Rose by Robert Burns, I Carry Your Heart With Me by E. E. Cummings, I Love You by Ella Wheeler Wilcox, Love Sonnet XI by Pablo Neruda

Leviathan: I love you. Leviathan: I love you more than anyone else in this world. You: Thanks! Leviathan: Happy now? Leviathan: As I thought, this was the right thing to say.

You stared at your phone screen for a moment longer with one eyebrow raised. Something here wasn’t right. Though you weren’t some grand detective, you could tell that the texts didn’t sound like Levi at all Even beyond the sudden boldness, if you pictured Levi texting those messages you could only imagine him with a rain cloud over his head as he hunched over his phone in sorrow. The somber tone didn’t match his usual excitement. Maybe he was trying to get into character for some sort of cosplay…? Biting the inside of your cheek, you tried to figure out if he had mentioned getting into character for something. Still, there was no way he wouldn’t know all the lines of a character he was trying to embody, and it seemed far-fetched that he’d choose something so...overt, let alone practice it with you.

Before you could distract yourself too much from the tasks you were supposed to be working on, a solid oof a few feet away from your door caught your attention. You could just barely hear a half-hearted grumble barely covering the low boyish giggles of a scheming Belphegor as Levi freaked out in a jumble of words that sounded more like a keysmash than an argument. A moment later, you got another slew of texts that seemed much more like the demon you knew.

Leviathan: AAAEWAGVNAFBPEABD Leviathan: WAAAAAIT! Leviathan: I take that back! Leviathan: AARGH, no, that’s not what I meant! Leviathan: I left my D.D.D. on the couch and Belphie ran off with it!

Ah. That made sense. It also explained the nervous energy you could practically feel radiating from where the two demons undoubtedly still lay in a heap. With a devious look on your face, you tapped away at your phone.

You: I took a screenshot of it!

You were right about one of them being outside your door. You could hear Levi’s startled yelp, followed shortly by frantic footsteps running down the hall to his door. The three dots danced on your screen as the sound got quieter, the message reaching you just as the door to Levi’s room slammed shut.

Leviathan: No, you can’t! Delete that ASAP! DELETEIIIITTTTT!

Snickering to yourself, you hefted yourself out of your seat and opened your door to peer out into the hallway. A little ways to your left, Belphie lay sprawled out on the carpet with a half-dazed expression on his face. Taking care to keep your footsteps quiet in case he actually was asleep, you bent over his face to look at his half-lidded eyes. After a moment of shifting into focus, Belphie gave you a lazy smile and patted the floor next to him.

“You should join me,” He offered. “The carpet is surprisingly soft.”

“Yeah, and surprisingly dirty,” You added, gently toeing at his shoulder as if that would spur him to move.

“If you stare at the pattern on the ceiling and let your eyes get unfocused, it’s real easy to fall asleep,” He suggested. You turned your head to look at the ceiling, seeing nothing but a boring, dark texture above you. If you squinted, you could almost make out swirls in the paint. Maybe demons had a better time seeing details in the dark.

Beneath you, Belphie hummed contentedly, folding his hands at his stomach. He almost looked like he was sunbathing in a meadow, surrounded by fragrant flowers - the image made your heart jump the slightest bit. Maybe, if that was the case, you would have joined him. Lying next to him as a gentle breeze danced over your skin and the tall grass kissed your skin...that didn’t seem like a bad way to spend an afternoon.

“Hey,” Belphie asked suddenly, holding you in a serious stare. It was one he didn’t bother to give you often, saving it only for when you trespassed him so greatly he needed to make it known (more often than not when he told you how lame Lucifer was if you mentioned how he’s helped you with some administrative details for the exchange program). “What did you feel when Levi sent you that message?”

“What?” You asked, shaken by the jarring change in his voice. He sounded much more stern, and though it was hard to tell while looking at him upside down, you were pretty sure he was holding you in a glare, albeit a very gentle one.

“Did it make you happy?” He asked. “That he might love you?”

Your face flushed at the personal question and you averted your gaze, missing the way Belphie’s gaze hardened at your reaction. “I-I knew they weren’t from Levi,” You answered, shaking your head and looking back at Belphie. “They sounded way too suave for him. I thought maybe he was playing a character, or something. I didn’t think they meant anything.”

“You thought they didn’t mean anything…” Nodding, Belphie’s mouth twisted in thought as he looked just past your shoulder blankly. Suddenly his arms shot up and he grabbed at the air a few times, shutting off any gateway to questions you might have. “Help me up. I wanna nap somewhere softer than this where I won’t get trampled.”

Rolling your eyes, you turned the idea of leaving him there around once before shifting to his side and pulling him up. He took the chance to stumble into you, jamming his chin into your shoulder as he wrapped his arms around you and nuzzled into your neck. Instead of feeling his breath tickle your skin, however, you felt his hair brush against you as he adjusted, eventually stopping once he was satisfied. You realized for a moment he was listening for your pulse, and your breathing shallowed on instinct, as if you wanted him to hear it. He didn’t tell you what he was listening for, only groaning when you started to ask him to let go so you could resume your day.

“Mmmm….maybe I should nap here? So comfy….” He murmured. Though he made no move to let go, he also didn’t fight you when you finally separated him from your body. Giving him a farewell smile, you turned your back to leave, not seeing his face fall in displeasure.

---

A few days later, there was a book on your bed that you were positive wasn’t there when you left that morning.

Dropping your backpack unceremoniously by your door, you peered at the worn cover to see it was an old collection of romantic poems. There was no suspicious Latin on the cover, now jewels (or missing jewels) to indicate it was a spellbook or otherwise enchanted, so you picked it up. Upon closer inspection, you saw it was a collection of human poems, many of which you read in your early school days. There were a few multicolored tabs stuck in it, no apparent rhyme or reason to their placement. Though it looked to be Satan’s book, you couldn’t imagine him risking getting adhesive on the worn pages. Curious, you flipped to the first marked page and scanned it, face flushing almost immediately.

O my Luve is like a red, red rose That’s newly sprung in June; O my Luve is like the melody That’s sweetly played in tune.

Flipping to the next marked page, your face turned an even deeper red as they scanned the page.

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in my heart)i am never without it(anywhere i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done by only me is your doing,my darling) i fear no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true) and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you

Each page you turned to gave you smooth velvet words that someone very clearly wanted to direct at you, each getting more intimate than the last. Every poem you read sent more blush to your face until you were positive another word would have you passing out.

I love your lips when they’re wet with wine And red with a wild desire; I love your eyes when the lovelight lies Lit with a passionate fire. I love your arms when the warm white flesh Touches mine in a fond embrace; I love your hair when the strands enmesh Your kisses against my face.

Honeyed words of Shakespeare and Dickinson forced your heart to pump faster in your chest than you ever thought possible. Though your body really did feel like it might collapse under the affection the poems held, you couldn’t stop yourself from flipping through. Even though it was clear these poems weren’t written for you, the slightest implication that someone could think so highly of you had your head spinning. Before long, you were skimming the last marked page, barely able to catch your breath.

I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair. Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets. Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.

A loud roar of Belphegor’s name shook you out of your love-stricken trance. Slamming the book shut as if you’d been caught doing something wrong, you listened to the hasty, angry footsteps of Satan right outside your door. The closer he got, you could hear his heavy breathing as he fought to contain his anger. “Where is that book? I know you were the last person in my room!”

Though the thought of being on the receiving end of Satan’s anger was enough to send you running, you slowly cracked open your door and peered out. Satan immediately whipped his head around to look at you, softening just a bit in an effort to let you know that you weren’t what he was after.

In a timid voice, you asked, “Which book would you happen to be looking for?”

“It was a collection of poems. You wouldn’t have happened to see it, would you?”

Taking a deep breath, you opened the door all the way and held the book out to him. Snatching it out of your hands, Satan widened his eyes at the tabs. “Did you-”

“It was like that!” You defended. Satan realized you were jumpy and slowly inhaled, willing himself to calm down before you continued. “It was on my bed when I came home.”

With a gruff hum, Satan nodded at your explanation before flipping through the marked pages. “It’s alright, (Y/n). It’s not your fault. I’m positive Belphie was the one who took it since he was-”

Stopping mid-sentence, Satan flushed a deep red once he read which poems were marked to be read. “O-oh,” He murmured, pulling at his sweater collar and clearing his throat. “This is...these are pretty romantic, huh?”

“Well, it is a love poem collection,” You offered helpfully with a shrug. As if he didn’t believe you, Satan looked at the cover himself.

“I hope you didn’t mistake my intent. I didn’t mean for this book to end up in your care.”

“Ouch,” You hissed through your teeth. “Aren’t you a heartbreaker?”

Satan’s eyes widened before he furrowed his brows and backed a few steps away. “No, that’s not what I- I didn’t mean it like that.” Heaving a sigh, he placed a hand on his chest and shut his eyes as he scowled. “Thank you for returning it to me. Have a good day.”

Satan turned on his heel and walked briskly away, leaving you to chuckle at the empty space before retreating back to your room. On your bed, beneath where the book was, lay a green sticky note you had missed in the excitement. Picking it up, you saw a note scrawled in messy handwriting that made you question just how genuine these advances were.

I’m not the best at expressing myself with words. Maybe if I borrow the words of others, you can finally know how I feel.

---

The pattern continued for a few days, with each brother falling victim to one of Belphie’s tricks. Each time, they managed to fluster themselves to impossible standards, aside from Asmo who insisted he never sent you that love letter and don’t you know how beautiful his handwriting is like the rest of him? Oh, but if a love letter was what you were after, he’d send mountains and mountains until you just couldn’t resist him anymore-

By that time, you had gently shut the door in his face and jogged back to your room, just as red as the rest of the brothers were when it was their time to be the victim. Belphegor even managed to send you an email with a fake account with a name so similar to Lucifer’s you almost didn’t catch the differences. By that time, you saw through his jokes and simply asked:

You: Really? An email? lvcifer.pride@dmail.com: What? He’s such a loser that I wouldn’t put it past him.

Even now, over a week since the last incident, Mammon was shouting in the hall as he kept running circles around himself, demanding Belphie to stop making advances on his human and to stop making him look like a fool. Without fail, Belphie always asked, “Oh? Is it foolish to think highly of the human?” Mammon was sent into a new frenzy every time.

By the time they were finished, you were exhausted just from listening to their incessant bickering. Mammon had scurried off, desperate to hide his embarrassment, while Belphie slumped down on the couch next to you and gave you a lazy grin. This time, you couldn’t bring yourself to return it. The antics had to stop.

“I think you should stop using me as a tool to mess with your brothers,” You said, not yet unpausing the show you were watching before the fighting started. Belphie scrunched his face and looked at you without moving his head.

“No can do. It’s too fun to see how desperately they try to save your honor from themselves. Idiots.”

Cringing at the insult, you continued, “Okay, but can you stop with the love advances? It’s a bit...much.”

Finally moving, Belphie turned his head to give you a scrutinizing look you didn’t understand before relaxing back into the couch. “Sure,” He answered humorlessly, tone dry and brittle with what was, to you, misplaced disgust. “It was losing its charm anyway.”

Now he was sulking, and you had half a mind to press play and just ignore his bitter mood. Still, you didn’t mean to make him pout, even if you had no idea where it came from and therefore weren’t exactly responsible for the shift. Sighing, you turned your back on him and leaned back, moving so your head was resting on his slumped chest. Without sparing you a look, Belphie reached his slim finger up and slowly carded them through your hair, making no effort to comb any tangles and deciding to ruffle it instead.

“I would like to know what’s got you in such a sour mood,” You said bluntly, turning your head to watch Belphegor stare at the ceiling blankly. Other than the occasional slow blink, you would have thought he had fallen asleep with how long it took him to respond. You knew better than to think he was ignoring you - he was either thinking of an answer he was satisfied to give or teasing you, seeing how long you’d wait for him and then pointing out how much you must value what he has to say if you’d wait that long.

“You enjoyed it too much,” He finally said, keeping his gaze from yours.

“I enjoyed it?” You repeated, narrowing your eyes. “I can assure you, I enjoyed none of what happened.”

“The fighting, maybe,” He agreed. “But I heard you tell Levi you thought it’d be sweet if he had texted you. I saw your face when you thought the poems were from Satan.”

“You were there?” Trying to remember the scene with Satan, you ran a hand partially through your hair and rested your palm on your forehead.

“The love letter, the gift basket, everything- you enjoyed it before you realized it was fake.”

“Belphegor, where were you?” You asked, knowing he would ignore your question. How many other times had he been secretly watching you without your knowledge? The thought made you shiver.

Clearly disgruntled, Belphegor growled at your questions before rolling his eyes. “At first I was just messing with you, but I never would have guessed you would sooner take sweet nothings from the mouths of fools before you’d ever take the real deal from me when I offer it out to you.”

Blinking rapidly, you felt your face warm and your heartbeat stutter for the thousandth time this week. “You...you never offered me anything,” you answered dumbly. Displeasure flickered across Belphie’s face before he sighed again and slumped further down, forcing your head down with him.

“Of course I didn’t. The others did, but not me,” He replied in such a way that barely hid the frustration in his tone, but the irony he was lamenting was lost on you. Sitting up, you shifted to sit on your knees and bent over Belphie to look at him.

“What are you talking about?” You asked. Belphie turned his head away, but you grabbed his cheeks and gently pulled them towards you so he could face you directly. “Belphie, tell me what you were trying to do.”

For a moment, Belphie wondered if he could just slump out of your grasp and lock himself back in the attic, clear by the pondering expression he wore on his face. You squished his face a little tighter, just enough to keep him in place and speak up. “I guess...I was hoping you would think the love letters and everything were from them and you’d reject them.” He looked to the side to avoid the pity you couldn’t hide on your face, his gaze unintentionally hardening. “Why didn’t you reject them? You should have rejected them.”

“I knew it wasn’t real! I was just trying to make them feel better,” You defended. Swiping your hand away from him, Belphie lifted himself up so he was sitting straight and crossed his arms, the image of a petulant child. “Is this...is this your version of a confession?”

Though he did his best to maintain his glare, Belphie couldn’t fight the light pink that tinted his cheeks. “So what if it is?”

Thoroughly pleased with yourself, you sat back on your heels and pretended you needed to mull things over. His hair was covering his eye and he kept his head turned away from you, but you could feel Belphie’s pensive gaze on you as you made your decision. Grinning and leaning closer, you asked, “Is this another prank?”

You felt his cold hands on either side of your face before you even saw him move. He glowered at you with no heat, putting on an upset show. If anything, he was more upset that you insisted on teasing him when you were so nice to the others. “If you can look at me and say you think I’m pranking you right now, you really are just a stupid human.”

Your grin widened. “A stupid human you’d have no qualms about kissing, though, right?”

There was no need to answer you with words when showing you was much more enjoyable.

[malfoyfarms]

St. Christopher

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.2

Triggers: drowning, domestic abuse/violence, regular violence, alcoholism, manipulation

A/N: hi lovelies, this was written for you because my page hit 350+ followers and “Sleepy Girl” received over 2,100 notes <3 u all

Christopher was a man who carried a child for many many miles even as the child grew heavy, never giving up. This man became a saint, and his image was plastered across items worn by travelers in all forms. Rings, necklaces, bracelets, anklets, pins, sashes and even clothing.

The tales of St. Christopher necklaces were told in your family for ages. All surfers and adventurers who wore those necklaces were protected, always returning home. You wore one, both your parents wore one, and your grandfather wore one as well. It had become a right of passage, one that you intended to carry on with your children as well. 

You were on your way to meet JJ at one of the abandoned lookouts on the island, nervous as all can be. The blonde boy had been in your life for a while now, and had been your boyfriend for almost ten months. Your grandfather had brought up the idea of giving JJ a St. Christopher necklace, as he had become part of the family. 

‘Pumpkin, I see the way he looks at you. That’s the same way I looked at your grandmother.’ Those words echoed over and over in your head. The wise man had always been your favorite, and when he suggested it, there was no way you could disagree. You had saved up enough money over the course of the next several weeks and went with the old gentleman to the mainland to pick out a pendant for your boyfriend. At that moment in time you thought the hardest task would be picking out the jewelry, but now you realized explaining the family history and actually passing over the necklace was the hardest part. 

The pendant itself was silver with a gray-blue border, with a long leather chain, knowing JJ wouldn’t like the metal look. Something silly about it looking too kook-ish. The colored rim complemented your own peach hued one. 

You saw the love of your life standing at the edge of the cliff, looking out into the ocean. You took a minute to regain composure and breathe. The leather chain was weaved into your now clammy hand, the pendant leaving an impression on your palm. 

“Hey J, I’m glad you made it,” he turned around to greet you.

“You said it was important, and I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” A smile spread across your face, appreciating how considerate he could be. 

He could tell you were nervous. The shifting of weight from leg to leg, avoiding eye contact, and most importantly, the hiding of hands behind your back. You plopped down next to him, feet dangling off the edge just as he did. 

“Alright, spill, you look like you’re going to explode,” he chuckled. You looked up with nervous eyes, hoping that he wouldn’t run away when he realized what the token meant. 

“So, you know how in my family we have the tradition of the St. Christopher necklace? Well, it’s like a right of passage, or an induction I guess to our family itself.” As you rambled JJ went into thought. He had heard many stories from your grandpa about how he believed the spirit had saved him. “And I was talking with Papa about mine, when he said that it’s time that I gave you one.”

With that last statement, you jutted your right hand forward, opening your palm to present him with the necklace. A blank expression washed over his face as he looked at the object. 

“I figured since adventurers and surfers tend to wear them, you being both, it would keep you safe. Especially now that we’re on some treasure hunt,” you spoke as you looked away. 

JJ gently took the charm out of your palm and placed it on his neck, lying just below the shark tooth. He smiled, looking into your eyes. The gray-blue that lined the man’s imprint matched is eyes.

“Is this your formal way of accepting me into your family?” He asked. You simply nodded, pulling him to kiss your lips. 

Over the next few months the tale around the necklace seemed to have proved its purpose.

                                                          ~~~

When John B proposed the idea of surfing the surge there was no way JJ could decline. With the rare amount of storms, the thought of multiple good waves was too appealing. Of course you would have loved to join the duo, but you were out cold on JJ’s bed at the chateau. He just couldn’t bring himself to wake you up. 

They made their way to the beach, dropping all their stuff on the sand and taking off towards the water. The waves were angry, almost as if they were trying to knock the boys off their boards. JJ being the daring bastard he is, he kept going out farther from the shore each time. 

“Dude, be careful, it's getting really rough out here!” John B yelled out to his friend. JJ simply ignored him and kept swimming. 

Once he was satisfied with his location, he turned around ready to ride the wave back to shore. The surf didn’t go as planned as he was quickly knocked off the board by a huge gust of wind and spray. 

He felt his body scrape the ocean floor, while the current kept him tumbling like dirty clothes. No matter how hard he tried to swim up, he was sloshed around underneath. JJ could feel his lungs burning, dying for air. 

During JJ’s fight to resurface, John B sat at the edge of the beach looking for his blonde friend. He began to panic when his board washed back to shore without its owner. Trying to explain to you how he lost your boyfriend in a surge was going to be a nightmare. How would he tell you? ‘Oh hey Y/n, I uh, couldn’t find JJ after he went down in the surge.’ That was definitely not going to cut it.  

Next thing he knew JJ was washed up, coughing with a slight gash above his eyebrow, two yards away from his board. Relief and color flooded JB’s face. 

“Dude, thank god you’re alive. We’re done for the day.” JJ simply nodded as they made their way back to the Chateau. 

You hadn’t woken up yet, still in a deep sleep, when the two entered the house once again. They quickly agreed not to tell you about the little incident that had just occurred, and go take a nap.

As JJ peeled off his wet bottoms and replaced them with sweatpants, he noticed the pendant on his neck. St. Christopher. He owed the legend big time. He turned to you, chuckling at how you slept. He tried to squeeze in around your body, but since you currently resembled a crumpled piece of paper, he lifted you up a tad to allow him to slip next to you. You barely woke up, but you stirred enough to realize who was underneath you. Your fingers brushed his necklace and you instantly nuzzled to the boy next to you.

                                                       ~~~

The second time the necklace seemed to be looking out for JJ was when he had a run in with his father. JJ had loudly stumbled into the house, causing Luke to wake up. The man’s footsteps came barreling through the house to meet the intruder. When he saw it was his son, he was livid. 

The alcohol induced rage made Luke only see red. He littered blow after blow to his son, not hearing the screams coming out of JJ’s mouth.

“You stupid motherfucker, coming into my house, loud as all can be, especially when I have to work tomorrow,” JJ knew working was a lie, his father gambled on Tuesdays. “I do nothing but provide for your lazy ass and this is how you repay me?” 

JJ prepared himself for another kick or punch or slap, but it never came. He opened his eyes to see his father lying on the ground. 

He quickly picked himself up, grabbed a few things from his room and exited the house, making his way back to the chateau. The entire walk back he played with the necklace he had removed from his neck. The cold metal in his hand was the only thing keeping him semi-relaxed as he made his way to your house. 

   He bound through the front door, marching directly to your room, catching you off guard as you were reading a book. The marks that tracked his body were fresh, and so was the emotional turmoil. JJ threw himself on to your bed, dying to find comfort in something that smelled like you. 

You tended to his physical and emotional wounds as best as you could, desperately trying to provide as much security as you could. The boy looked so young and vulnerable as his wet hair clung to his face and he was wrapped in a quilt. You held him close to your chest, swaying gently.

“He brought me home,” his voice crackled. You let out a noise of confusion. “St. Christopher, he brought me home. Maybe not scratch-free, but he made sure I made it.”

The size of your heart had grown four times in size. The small necklace was wrapped around his hand, sitting in between his pointer and middle finger. 

“St. Christopher knows right where you belong.”

                                                         ~~~

The third, and hopefully not last, time St. Christopher had brought JJ back to you was the most defining. 

Each pogue member had their own intricate tasks on how to get John B and Sarah off the island, your’s being a distraction for the police force. The only specific detail you had to follow was the timing. You needed to capture an audience after dark when the lovers would try to exit island waters. The larger the distraction the better, but you may have overdid it this time. 

While JJ, Kie and Pope had been prepping the boat all day for the escape, you had been wandering the island looking for trouble. Within the time period of you being MIA, you managed to stumble upon Rafe Cameron looking as cracked out as ever. Bingo, you thought, time to light the fuse. 

Walking up to Rafe, you began to pester him. Talking about Sarah, cocaine, and how his dad wasn’t happy that he killed the Sheriff. Telling him he never would live up to the kook expectations. You tried to pull out every card you could to infuriate him. 

Now, hours later, and many many provoking conversations with Rafe later, it was dark and your time to shine, or die.

The police officers were trying to negotiate with Sarah and John B, but were at a complete halt when they saw you were being held with a knife to your throat. You were bloodied and cut as his knife hadn’t been an empty threat

“If-if you don’t stop all of this nonsense about finding my sister, I-I will slit her throat,” Rafe screamed. 

The attention attracted the cameras, Ward, all the deputies and even your friends who were waiting in the tent next to the police. Your panicked face had everyone forgetting about the two escapees. 

“Rafe, son, please put the knife down,” Ward tried to coax him. You instantly felt the blade tighten against your throat. Tears ran down your face, small cries floated from your lips. Rafe’s dirty fingernails dug into your hips causing you to drop to one side in pain. 

“NO! She knows the truth Dad! We need to silence her! I managed to capture her, aren’t you proud Dad?” You pressed your head back into him, trying to get away from the knife, but that action had backfired. He pressed his face against yours, getting spit and tears on your cheek. 

Something must have clicked in Ward’s head because his next statement saved your life. “Of course Rafe, I’m so proud of you.” 

As you dropped to the ground, you were surrounded by an officer, carrying you over to the group of kids who you loved most of all. You could only pick out one voice though, JJ. 

“Y/n, don’t you ever do that again!” he scolded while pulling you against his body. “I can’t lose JB and you on the same night.”

You gently giggled against his chest, trying to stop the tears and from flowing. You were too happy to be pressed up against his chest, smelling the faint scent of weed, deodorant and salt. 

“Don’t be mad, I had to go that far, it was the only way,” you wailed. The grip on you tightened as you felt Kiara and Pope hug you as well. 

It was hours after your parents and grandpa had come to retrieve you and JJ from the beach, and the two of you laid in your bed, refusing to be further than three feet away. Your stomach was pressed against JJ’s as you ran your fingers around his collar bone. His lips sat on the crown of your forehead. 

You broke the silence with words that echoed JJ’s from a few months before. “I did it because I knew he would bring me home to you. No matter how big the adventure, he’d bring me home. One day he’ll bring us home to our biggest adventure, but today was not the day. He knew we were still needed.”