#like i definitely create mess when i shower cause so much hair falls out and goes everywhere..

[eggbeam]

Maybe I just got spoiled from moving into a house where I don't have to share a bathroom but I've had relatives staying over recently and I'm going crazy with the mess they're creating in my bathroom 😭😭😭😭😭😭 ughhhhhhh... GET OUT

[taleasnewastime]

In the wake of your leave | Part 3

Summary: It’s been six years since you’ve been home. Six years since you’ve been in this city. Six years since you stood in this house. Six years since you saw all these people. Six years since you’ve seen Jimin. But you’re back now, your father’s funeral the reason for your return, but this time you don’t plan on leaving and this time you’re going to take what you want no matter what.

Pairing: Jimin x reader

Genre: Unrequited love; brothers’ best friend; slow burn; mafia au; angst

Word count: 13.6k

Warnings: Angsty feelings, unrequited feelings, Jimin uses the nickname Princess, swearing, mentions of death, blood, there’s a physical fight, threats, talk about severed body parts, lots of feelings, reader is threatened a few times, I guess just lots of things you’d imagine from a gang/mafia fic but overall it’s also not that dark.

Authors note: Another long wait - sorry! Hope you enjoy this next part.

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Jimin’s stood leaning against the wall when you walk out your room the next morning. You should have expected it. But you don’t. You expected him to be gone again, expected Taehyung to return to following you.

You don’t expect the calm, relaxed stance while Jimin waits for you to emerge from your room.

Your steps stutter, feet nearly tripping over the wooden floorboards, heart panging in your chest and mouth almost definitely popping a little open.

You look a mess and feel even worse. Your hair like a nest, bags under your puffy eyes, clothes slightly creased. You’ve showered but have hardly slept, you’ve pulled yourself together as best you can, tried to slap a false pretence on yourself, but you know Jimin will see through it.

Jimin says nothing, just stays leaning on the wall, his eyes remain on you, his face neutral. As always he gives nothing away.

Pulling yourself together, you act like nothing happened as you breeze past him. Today is supposed to be a fresh start, one where every part of yesterday is something you don’t think about.

“Where’s Taehyung?”

“He’s been relieved of his duties,” you can hear the smile in his tone as he walks behind you.

“Shame. I think I could have gotten used to him,” your words are coming out through gritted teeth, betraying your true feelings.

“Hum. I’m sure. What with how easily you lost him yesterday.”

“I was more thinking about how great his ass was.”

You see his smile as you enter the kitchen and turn to look at him. You thought he’d be annoyed at you or upset or in some sort of negative mood. You never imagined you’d even see him today, but you certainly hadn’t expected small jokes and smiles.

“Where’s Jungkook anyway?”

“I thought you hated Jungkook,” you shoot back, heading towards the coffee machine.

“Hates a strong word.”

You twist to pin a questioning look on him but are surprised he’s still following you. You thought he’d be leaning against the door frame like he’s always done before, but instead he’s right behind you, still smiling. It causes the frown to fall off your face and Jimin’s smile only widens.

Really? What is with him today?

“Want a coffee?” You’re so thrown you inadvertently change topics.

“Yep,” he says from your side.

Silence envelops you, the only noise the coffee machine whirling. It’s awkward. A strange tension thick between the two of you. It’s different to before. You don’t like it.

Jimin’s already looking at you when you turn to hand him his coffee, still leaning back on the counter, body facing the room but head twisted to look at you. You’re careful to not let your fingers touch his, and then take as big a step away from him as you can. It’s not big enough, he has you pinned in the corner of the room so you have to push yourself backwards into the counter to create as much distance as possible.

Hands wrap around your mug. Lips go to blow gently on the steam. It’s still hot, but it doesn’t stop you from raising the mug to your mouth. Anything to distract from whatever this is.

“How you feeling?” Jimin’s voice is softer than before and when you look up at him there’s concern written all over his features. You focus back on the dark liquid in your mug before replying.

“Fine.”

There’s a small pause. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You mind flashes to the kiss, to Jimin leaning into you, to his lips on yours, to his tongue sweeping along your lips. But that’s not what he means. You try as hard as you can to push away the images of the man slumped in the alley. It’s no use.

“It’s not healthy to keep everything bottled up.”

“I said I’m fine.”

“Have you spoken to Jungkook about it?”

Your eyes flash to his and the hard lines of your features must tell him enough. He lets out a small sigh.

“You need to talk to someone, Y/N,” you’re aware of him shuffling towards you even though you don’t look at him. “Why don’t we head out of here at least and just –”

“We already spoke. Last night,” you say through gritted teeth.

There’s another pause, longer this time and you curse yourself for bringing it up. You don’t want to discuss that man and you definitely don’t want to talk about the kiss. Jimin seems to think differently.

“Listen. I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you like that. Last night … what happened …” you brace yourself for him to tell you it was a mistake, that you should forget it ever happened, but are more shocked by what he says. “I’m not going to say I regret doing it, but I can’t deny my timing was off.”

You look up at him, fully look at him. He’s closer, there’s still a gap between you, but he’s shortened it by twisting his body to face yours. His features are still soft, there’s still concern there, but for some reason it’s easier to look at now.

You hold his gaze for a second before snapping out of it.

“You’re being ridiculous,” you say, stepping sideways, away from him, heading for the table. You need more space.

“I’m trying to tell you that I’m here for you. How is that ridiculous?”

“You can’t just charm your way back into this.”

“That’s not what I’m doing.”

“Then what is it, Jimin? What are you doing?”

The tables between you now. Jimin on one side, leaning forward, hands splayed across the wood, arms taught with muscles, face soft but still serious. You are on the other side, hands still cupping your mug, body stiff and taught, slightly leaning away from him.

“I want to help.”

“What?” You spit out, your whole face concaving into a frown.

“I want to help you. Help with finding out who killed your dad.”

“Why would you want to do that?”

A smile curls on his lips and his head shakes slowly side to side. He looks amused before he shrugs and says, “I could be useful.”

“I more mean, why now? All this time you’ve been pushing me away and now you’re suddenly on my side?” You can’t help but think about what happened last night as you say it. What’s changed so quickly to make Jimin go from wanting you gone, to … kissing you.

“I’ve always been on your side,” he says.

“Stop.”

“What?”

“Will you just stop with all that bullshit.”

“It’s not bull –”

“We both know it is.”

“Can we just talk about this?”

“Isn’t that what we’re doing?”

“Rationally.”

“I am being rational.”

“You –”

“You two alright?”

Both of your heads snap to the door. Jungkook stands there, eyes wide and innocent. He has no idea what he’s just interrupted. You twist to look back at Jimin, he looks annoyed now as if he knows exactly what you’re about to do.

Your words are meant for Jungkook even though you’re still staring at Jimin. “We’re fine. In fact, we were just about finished he–”

“No. We’re not,” Jimin cuts you off, pushing up off the table, giving you a sharp look before looking at Jungkook. “I’m offering to help.”

Jungkook throws you a look, eyes widening with shock and something else. You just throw him a hard stare, a warning not to say anything.

“And as I’ve been telling him, we don’t need nor want his help.”

“Y/N,” Jimin sighs. “Don’t let what happened last night sway you. I’ve already apologised.”

Jungkook raises an eyebrow at you in question and you grit your teeth. Jimin looks slightly smug as you glare at him.

“You didn’t apologise.”

“If you want to talk about it some more, I’ll be happy to.”

You resist the urge to throw your middle finger up at him. Taking a long gulp of coffee that burns your mouth you try to rationalise your mind. It doesn’t work. You’re still pissed off with both of them as well as still feeling delicate from yesterday. This whole situation is only bringing all those emotions back, making you feel like you just want to crawl back into bed. But you don’t have time for that.

You look at Jimin and say, “you can follow us around, trail us for Yoongi’s sake, but you’re not having anything more than that.”

“I think we should let him help.”

“Shut up Jungkook,” you say through gritted teeth, eyes still on Jimin.

“The kids smart, you should listen to him.”

These men are trying to kill you, you swear. You change tac instead.

“What are you doing? I can’t work out your game here,” you say.

“Who says it’s a game? Maybe I just want to help you, Y/N.”

“Yeah,” you laugh. “Because you’ve always been so helpful. You’ve always been plain in telling me that you don’t want me in this gang. So I’m struggling to understand why you are so keen to help me stay now.”

“That’s not entirely fair,” he says and then seems to think twice seeing the look on your face. “Ok, I haven’t exactly been keen on the idea, I’ll admit. But like I said, that doesn’t mean I’ve never thought you’d be utterly amazing at being a part of this gang. I just had my own reasons for wanting you to take other directions in life.”

Cryptic, but at least he’s talking more plainly about it.

“And I don’t know,” a cheeky smile starts to spread across his lips and you’re already flushing before he carries on. “Something about last night made me realise that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to have you stick around.”

He’s always been a flirt. You’ve seen him turn his charm on around so many females growing up, you’ve just never experienced it first-hand. You always wished he’d flirt with you like you’d seen him do to others, and now he’s doing it, you’re not so sure you want it. You fight the flush that rises to your skin, turn to look at Jungkook instead of Jimin. He has an eyebrow raised, a questioning look you also don’t want to register so whip your head to look back at Jimin.

“How are you anyway, after everything?” He’s diverting the conversation just like you’ve been doing, distracting you before you can scold him, probably good thing, you’d have no idea what words would have slipped out of your mouth. Probably none of them good. And nothing you’d want Jungkook hearing.

“Fine,” you repeat with a small nod.

“You know you don’t have to pretend around us.”

“I said I’m fine.”

“Ok. As long as you know you can always talk to me about it.”

You know you can, you did last night and look where that led. Not a good idea.

The chair scrapes along the ground when you pull it from under the table. Your body feels heavy when you sit down, feels like the world is pushing down on your shoulders and every day only adds to it.

It’s not a good idea to rope people into this plan, least of all Jimin. You’re already playing a risky game. But you can’t deny how useful Jimin would be. He knows people here and they know him meaning they’re more likely to talk to him. You really don’t want to admit it, but ultimately you know you need help. You and Jungkook are struggling and if you want to prove someone killed your father and who did it then that means you need solid evidence. Maybe Jimin can help.

“We think it’s someone in the gang,” you talk to the table, still mustering the effort to look up, as if looking at Jimin is the evidence he’d need to see how weak you feel right now. “Whether they’re working for their own gain or a seed from another gang, we’re not sure.”

There’s a scape along the floor as the chair opposite you is pulled out. Your leg begins to bob under the table, you really hate asking for help, really hate feeling vulnerable.

“We know he was given Amitriptyline in a drink, that means it needs to be someone who could have gotten close enough to put it in. Someone he wouldn’t have questioned taking a drink from.”

“Unless the drink came with it already in?”

You finally look up at Jimin. It’s a good idea, something you’re annoyed you hadn’t already thought of. If he reads the thought he thankfully doesn’t look cocky about his theory.

You look over at Jungkook still stood in the door, “well we were wondering how the other gang might tie into this.”

“That’s why you were in that part of the city yesterday?”

You nod, pushing away the alley, that man, the blood. “We got a note,” you start slowly, unbelieving that you’re admitting all of this. “They wanted to meet because the note said they have information, but then … well, you know what happened.”

“They tricked you,” you shrug at Jimin’s words, not quite wanting to verbally admit it. “Surely, that points the finger at them more?”

Jungkook finally steps into the room, pulls his own chair out to take a seat at the head of the table. It’s surreal seeing the two of them opposite you. The three of you working together. Two different parts of your life pulled together.

“But it doesn’t make sense,” Jungkook says. “They know something, I swear they do, so why would they attack us when they could have gotten something out of us for it?”

“Maybe they’re better at bluffing than you think,” Jimin doesn’t say the words condescendingly, but you know Jungkook will take it that way, can see the frown already forming on his face.

“No, I agree with Jungkook,” you say, bringing the attention back to you. “They know something. Maybe yesterday was a test or, I don’t know, a warning?”

“Or maybe it wasn’t them,” Jungkook throws out.

“Who else would it be?” Jimin asks. “You were in their territory. Three people from their rival gang happily walking around, it’s not likely they’ll let that slide so easily.”

You agree with him, but it also doesn’t make sense. Jimin possibly doesn’t know the details but it was clearly you they were luring into those alleys. That man was stood to get only your attention, they weren’t interested in Jungkook or Taehyung. He was there, ready, after you’d hardly been there, as if prepared for you to come. You’re not about to give that information to Jimin, it’ll only add to his list of reasons to worry about you.

“I don’t know, it doesn’t make sense that it was them,” you say. “I can’t link it to anyone, but surely there’s someone that had something to gain from it.”

Jungkook looks at you, his look conveying one possibility he’s repeatedly pushed. Jimin must read it, his back going stiff and straight.

“It wasn’t Yoongi,” he growls.

“How can you kn–”

“You want to be on a quick line to death?” Jimin says. “Because congrats, you’re on it.”

“Alright,” you interrupt again, trying to maintain the peace. “It wasn’t Yoongi.”

“He had the most to gain,” Jungkook mutters unhelpfully.

“Who else can you think of, Jimin?” You talk a little louder as if to drown Jungkook out.

“Have you been here, Y/N?” He says with a small smile. “I could probably name a hundred people it could be.”

The fact stalls you, a thought coming to you. “Is that why Yoongi’s happy for me to do this?”

“What?” His tone is still light but you can see the smile slowly dropping, his brain working over what he said to see what he said that was wrong.

“Is that why he never looked into himself when it happened?” You ask. “Because he knew he’d never work it out. Which is why he’s happy for me to be running around chasing something he knows I’ll never catch. Do you guys have a good laugh together? Watching me do something I’ll never manage, knowing I’ll never join this gang.”

“Y/N,” Jimin mutters, a deep frown on his brow.

“I thought you wanted to help, but if you don’t –”

“Why you suddenly being like this?”

“Just leave me and Jungkook to it.”

There’s a pause before Jimin says, “We’ll interview everyone.”

“Everyone?” You say incredulously.

“If you want my help, we’ll work it out, we’ll question everyone.”

“That’s your idea of helping?”

He narrows his eyes and cocks his head a little to the side. He looks a little offended at the question or maybe it’s the tone in which you asked it. But you refuse to feel any guilt. Jimin looks over at Jungkook, who’s decided to kick back and just watch the two of you have it out, and nods his head.

“And what does the kid think?”

The term has Jungkook’s lips twitching into a smile. “I think it’s not my decision.”

“Not on my side anymore?” Jimin queries.

Jungkook just shrugs his shoulders, his eyes glinting as he looks at you. “Surely you know not to get on the wrong side of Y/N.”

The joke doesn’t get Jimin to react, but you at least lighten a little. Jungkook’s still on your side. You know he will always have your back, but it’s always nice to have a reminder.

“How exactly are you going to interview everyone?” You ask, unconvinced.

The question gets Jimin face to lighten. You’re sure because you’ve not completely shut him down, that by asking the question you’re almost accepting his help.

“You’ll see.”

The bright look on Jimin’s face doesn’t last long.

Two days of constantly sitting and listening and talking. You wouldn’t have thought that you could feel so tired after doing something so little. But your brain is fried. You’ve learnt so much and yet nothing at all. A notebook full of probably useless dates and times and pieces of information, none of it stringing together to create a story and yet all of it feeling like it should mean something.

Ryan told you about a body he found months before your dad died. A murder by the sounds of it, none of the same characteristics as your father’s death as far as you could tell, but Ryan went on about it long enough to make you believe he at least thought there were connections. But a near disfigured body, abandoned in a dock doesn’t sound like much of a connection to you. The only strange thing being no one had owned up to it and as far as Jimin knew no one had been ordered to be killed. That was the only interesting thing he came out with.

Nuno was little to no help. The only answers he gave were short yes’s or no’s. You’re sure Jimin threw in a few extra questions just to irk you for his own enjoyment.

George talked mostly about a new TV show he was watching. Seeming to find anyway to link back to the show, however vague. Again, Jimin seemed more enthusiastic with the line of questioning than you did. Whenever genies and wizards got brought up by George, Jimin’s smile grew a little wider as your scowl only deepened. The main thing going through your mind being how did people like this get into the gang when you’d been pushed so unceremoniously out.

Ray only managed to lighten your mood a little. He spoke of conversations he’d overheard. He hadn’t thought too hard about it at the time but when you asked about the drug poured into your father’s drink, he seemed to recall hearing the name from somewhere. Or maybe he’d read it. Or seen it written down somewhere. He seemed so unsure you considered that maybe he’d just heard it on the TV somewhere. Still you wrote the note down.

Luke was one of the most serious men you’ve met. He spoke in absolutes, with a certainty no one else had. Such was the trend for the day, he didn’t know much. He said he hadn’t ever met your dad, but he was conscious of what some people said behind his back. There were talks about how weak he was becoming, how people didn’t agree with some of his decisions, how lazy he was. Again, interesting but not telling you much. When he left you asked Jimin what Luke did for the gang, certain it would be something important, maybe to do with numbers. Jimin only shrugged, telling you he was just a driver.

Taehyung came along for a chat at one point. Stealing all the biscuits as he kicked his feet up on the table and leaned back in his chair. It turned out him and Jimin are pretty close. The small jokes they made at your expense annoyed you more than they should. You couldn’t help but notice the ease at which they communicate and how they seem to know each other at a deep level. That also annoyed you. Or maybe a better emotion is hurt. A feeling deep in your chest you know you shouldn’t feel but that you can’t help. The realisation of all the time you’ve lost, all the things you don’t know about Jimin.

You were harsher with the next interview. A seemingly sweet younger boy, one of the ones who reminded you of Jimin and how he must be trapped here. Young and yet trying to harden himself to prove himself. The memories he brought back along with the anger at the gang for manipulating such young people and the realisation of how much you’ve missed of Jimin’s life makes you snap at the boy. He walked in with a small smile on his face and a look of wonder in his eyes whenever he was brave enough to glance Jimin’s way. Running phones, that’s all he does and even though you know he couldn’t have any link to your fathers death, by the time he walks out of the room the smile is long gone.

“Congratulations,” Jimin says flatly as soon as the boy is out of site, “you well and truly terrified him.”

“He’ll live,” you mutter, looking down at the notebook on the table in front of you rather than at Jimin.

You can feel Jimin’s gaze burning into you, can almost hear his mind whirling. The prolonged silence nearly kills you but you don’t give in, pretend to read your rubbish notes instead of looking over at him. You expect him to dig into you about it or maybe guilt trip you about what you said. You don’t expect him to move the conversation on.

“You’ve never said.”

You hum as you look over at Jimin, his face far more serious than you expect. It takes you a second to compose yourself, to put your mind in order enough to be prepared for whatever it is he’s about to drop on you.

“What is it Jungkook does all day?”

Not what you were expecting. So much so that your face gives you away. However good you think you are at hiding your emotions, it seems there are always things that’ll crack you. Still, it only takes you another second to school your face and then a subsequent second to turn your face away from Jimin for good measure.

“I’m supposed to be helping you. We’re supposed to be a team, Y/N. That’s not going to work if I don’t know what the two of you are doing behind my back.”

You slam your notepad shut and then scrape your chair on the floor as you stand. Jimin looks disappointed when you step away from him and then look down at him.

“Earn my trust, Jimin,” you say in an even tone, emulating the manner that was used whenever the words were spoken to you. “And maybe then you can learn everything we’re doing.”

You don’t wait for an answer, don’t even stray long enough to see the look on his face or the way his body flops backwards in disbelief. You feel too smug to linger. A small smirk on your face as you walk out the room at throwing what’s always been thrown at you on someone else. It at least manages to lighten your mood after such a long seemingly useless day.

What is he doing? You think to yourself.

Sat in your chair where the man can’t see you, you watch as he bends and starts to riffle through the lower cupboard. He’s not someone you recognise from the interviews. He’s trying to be quick, looks like he doesn’t want to be seen and yet he hasn’t noticed you as he glances over his shoulder every other second. To be fair, you’re sat in a high-backed chair, back to the man so that you can only see him by peaking around the edge of the chair. He must have not looked hard enough, or you must have peaked out to see what the noise was after he’d finished looking this way. Either way you’re now sat watching as he nervously moves items out of the way to get to something at the back of a cupboard.

He successfully gets to what he was searching for and you watch as he reaches his arm in. It’s when he’s elbow deep, probably grasping the item, that he spots you.

Both of you freeze, like two animals caught in each other’s headlights. A beat of silence envelopes you before you stand so you can both fully see each other. He keeps his arm in the cupboard.

“What you looking for?”

He glances in the cupboard, you can see his mind whirling to come up with some excuse. His face still looks shocked when he turns back to you.

“Nothing,” his voice is slightly raspy, not matching the sound you’d imagined in your mind. It doesn’t match his young face, makes him sound older.

“Right,” you say. “So you just like rifling through cupboards?”

His face flashes annoyance before he looks back in the cupboard. You watch as he rummages around for a second longer then pulls his hand out. Whatever it is, is small enough to be concealed in his closed fist, and he’s quick enough to shove it in his pocket before you can catch any packaging or colours.

His face remains firm as he stands, closing the cupboard door on his way. He doesn’t look so young and naïve stood meters away from you. But you hold your stance as he tries to stare you down.

“What did you put in your pocket?”

The guy puts an overly clueless look on his face, his hands going out to his side in a shrug and his head looks down at himself as if to say what? As if to really drive home the point, his hands start to pat down his chest. When he reaches his waist he look up at you with another shrug. Nothing here.

“I literally just saw you put something in your pocket.”

His face flips, the sarcastic smile replaced by anger. There’s a small pause before he starts advancing on you fast, you have to fight the urge to step backwards. He keeps walking towards you until your toes are brushing against each other and he’s leaning his face right in yours. Every part of you is clenched.

“Want to search me?” He spits in your face.

The obvious answer is no; not only because that’s what he’s clearly wanting you to say, but also because you don’t want to put your hands anywhere near him.

“Go on,” he says, his breath smelling as it fans across your face. “Fucking do it. I’d quite like a pat down from you.”

You grit your teeth, continue to stare him down as he moves a centimetre closer. You want to back away, want to tell him to get out of your face and when his eyes flick down your body, a smile curling on his lips when he looks at your chest, you want to push him away. He makes you feel slimy. But he’s doing it all as some sick sort of power play and you’re not about to let him have this.

“What about you?” He mutters, eyes continuing to flick over your body. “What’s in your pockets?”

At that, you do step away. But it only gains a deep chuckle and the space you created closes as he takes a step in your direction.

Your heart pounds in your chest. You want out of this. You know you could hit him if needed, could put up a good fight and possibly win or at least try and draw some attention. But your mind starts to seep back to all that blood, that man, his slumped figure in the alley. And just as quickly the thought of fighting him leaves you.

“Oh come on,” he smiles at you. “I don’t bite.” He leans in, his voice lowering in volume as he carries on. “Unless you’re into that –”

“There are two things you need to do here,” a different deep voice says calmly from the direction of the door. “Firstly, step the fuck away from her. And secondly, get the fuck out of my sight.”

You swallow as the man stays exactly where he is, his eyes now looking directly into yours as a large smile curls on his lips. As he steps to your side, Jimin is revealed to you. His eyes flick over you, not in a way that makes your insides coil in disgust like when the man did it, but as if he wants to check you’re not hurt. When he deems you’re ok, his eyes go to the man now stood just as closely at your side and turn dark.

“Calm down, Jimin,” he laughs. “Me and your girlfriend were just getting to know each other.”

Neither of you correct him, though your mind clings on to the term, girlfriend. And though Jimin continues to stand casually in the doorway, the fact that the guy isn’t doing what’s been asked causes something to change in Jimin, something you rarely see, a side of him he rarely lets you see.

“Don’t make me say it twice, Sam,” Jimin’s voice rumbles. “You don’t want to find out what’ll happen if I do.”

“Ohhh,” the guy, Sam, says the word like an eye roll, completely contradicting the way he finally steps away from you. It doesn’t do anything to placate Jimin, he still stands glaring at the guy who finally seems to be cottoning on, an awkwardness seeping into him as he takes another step away from you. “Alright mate. Calm your tits. I was getting out of here anyway.”

Jimin doesn’t move from his spot blocking the door so when Sam gets to him, he has to awkwardly shuffle around him.

Silence envelopes the room when it’s just the two of you in it. Both of you staring at each other across the room.

“You alright?” He mutters, all anger leaving him.

No, you want to say. You grow frustrated at yourself for not being able to deal with that yourself, frustrated that it took Jimin to come in before he backed away, frustrated that he wasn’t intimated by you, thought it was ok to treat you that way. Frustrated that you couldn’t defend yourself, that you just stood there and did nothing. Your frustration boils inside yourself and when you open your mouth it all gets directed straight at Jimin.

“Why did you do that?”

He cocks his head to the side, confused. “You wanted me to let him treat you like that?”

“I wanted to deal with it.”

“Right, because you were doing such a great job.”

“He was hiding something,” you almost shout, hurt by the truth behind Jimin’s words. “I watched him take something out of that cupboard and put it in his pocket.”

“And?”

“And what the fuck was it?”

“How am I supposed to know that, Y/N?”

You close your eyes for a second, your frustration only growing inside you. “Well now neither of us know, Jimin. Now neither of us know what he was hiding, and why he was acting so shady and whether it was the fucking pills that killed my dad.”

The silence feels loud after your raised voices die. There’s a small frown between Jimin’s eyes as he looks at you, clearly not having considered that line of thinking. Either that or he’s trying to work out where all this passion is suddenly coming from.

You could continue to argue, but honestly you’re more annoyed at yourself than anything, especially now that you’ve taken your anger out at Jimin when you should have taken it out at yourself. You don’t want to continue doing this, you don’t want to keep getting angry at each other.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter, barely audible.

You’re pretty sure Jimin doesn’t hear the words given the way he doesn’t react as you start to walk towards him. Just like with Sam, he doesn’t move out of your way. You have to brush past him as you walk out the door, your chest running along his side. Your hearts pounding as you head towards your room.

Just before you get out of earshot you hear Jimin angrily mutter, “fucks sake.”

The next morning you see the guy, Sam, as you’re walking down the stairs. Taking a second glance at the person approaching you up the stairs, you have to stop your face from showing the shock you feel.

One of his eyes is swollen shut, a gash on his lip and bruising starting to blossom across his face. He even looks to be struggling up the stairs, as if there’s some aches in his stomach stopping him from comfortably moving.

Shock turns to anger and then to guilt. You didn’t beat him up, but you have a good guess who did. Despite your feelings you continue straight faced down the stairs towards him. Sam does much the same, giving no indication he’s noticed you until he not so gently pushes his shoulder into yours as you pass. The touch, that must have hurt, tells you everything; you haven’t done this but he’s pinning the blame firmly on you.

Emotions continue to swirl inside you as you head to the kitchen. Unsurprisingly Jimin is already there, his presence not in the usual spot outside your bedroom now more apparent. You can’t stop yourself from glancing at his hands which are currently scrolling through his phone. There are no bruises there, no blood, but that doesn’t stop you dismissing your theory that he did that to Sam. Not after what happened last night.

You remain quiet as you go to put bread in the toaster. Jimin does the same, neither of you wanting to be the one to break the silence. But the anger starting to boil inside you makes it near impossible to stay quiet for long.

“How many times do I need to tell you I don’t need protecting before it gets through your thick skull?”

The way Jimin slowly looks up from his phone at you coupled with the fact he has the audacity to look nonplus doesn’t help your mood. He doesn’t say anything, and when you carry on your tone comes out sharper, giving away every emotion you’re feeling.

“Sam’s never going to speak now. You’ve made sure he won’t say anything useful to us.”

Jimin stares at you a second longer, face still flat, before he looks back down at his phone effectively dismissing everything you’ve said. You want to scream at him but somehow manage not to.

“I ruled Sam out,” the statement takes you back enough to let Jimin continue. “Sam didn’t kill your dad.”

“And how the fuck did you find that out? Did he scream it out halfway through his beating?” You try to joke though you know what you’ve said it a high possibility.

Jimin looks back up at you, some of his own frustration creeping into his features. “Listen, I said I could be helpful. So let me be helpful.”

“By beating people up?”

“By eliminating suspects.”

You huff a laugh, “eliminating?” and then carry on before Jimin can. “How is that helping?”

“You thought he might have the drug that killed your dad, now we know he didn’t.”

“Do we?”

“That’s what you thought, right?” He doesn’t let you answer, the question rhetorical. “I questioned him, found out he didn’t do it. There you go. Got your answer. And probably quicker than you could have.”

Fuming you don’t answer immediately. Instead, you look at Jimin, properly look at him. He’s being cocky in a way you haven’t seen before. It makes him look unattractive. Boasting about finding something out through beating someone up. It’s not like it should be surprising, you’re well aware that Jimin has done worse before, he’s just never been like this about it before.

He doesn’t back down from your stare, doesn’t change his expression, doesn’t apologise for anything he’s done, though you’re also not hiding how you feel about it, you know it’s written all over your face.

What changed overnight to make him like this? Surely it wasn’t because of Sam. Surely he didn’t beat him up for any other reason than because of you alluding to him hiding something.

No. You cut those thoughts off, it’s a stupid road to go down. The only things that’ll come from it is more false hope.

“So,” he elongates the word, his tone still giving you the ick, “are you going to sit down or are you planning on lingering there all day?”

You clamp your jaw tight to stop you from grinding your teeth. Narrowing your eyes at him you’re well past the point of hiding your feelings from him. You’re supposed to be interviewing more people today. But the thought of sitting at this table for even an hour – especially next to Jimin acting like this – sounds like hell.

“I’m not hanging around here today.”

He hides his surprise better, or maybe after the ways he’s acted he’s not surprised at all. Maybe he wanted to push you away so as not to sit here any longer himself.

“Where we going?”

“No where.” Before he can respond and make you any more annoyed you place a hand up and carry on. “I need some time off.”

“Time off?” He spits the words out as if he’s never said them before and is working out how to say it.

“I can’t think. I can’t deal with this right now.” I can’t be around you at the moment. You add silently.

“So you’re … back off to the spa?”

Your hand finally drops just like the features on your face. “No.”

“But you need some time to yourself,” his tone has turned patronising, hurting you that little more. He must see that as his tone softens a little. “I’m being honest with you, Y/N. You don’t get time off here and you definitely get to pick when you have it. You have to put hard work in to prove yourself.”

As if you don’t know that. As if you haven’t been working hard every day up until now. As if he can’t read the meaning behind your words; that it’s not because you need a day off from this but a day off from him.

With the silence Jimin changes again. You really don’t know what happened last night to make him like this today. Whether it was something Sam did or said to him, or because of something else. But just as fast as he dropped the distaste and annoyance, it returns.

“But go off, have your spa day. Kick back. I’m sure you deserve it.”

You can’t help but grind your teeth this time. He’s being an ass on purpose and you can’t be bothered to stick around long enough to work out why or placate him enough to change his mood.

Glaring at him one final time, you can’t help yourself. With a certain amount of venom in your tone you say, “Fuck off, Jimin,” before turning and leaving the room in a worse mood than you arrived in, no destination in mind. Before you can leave the room Jimin manages to mutter words he knows will piss you off even more.

“Whatever, Princess.”

He succeeds in his mission. You can almost picture the smirk on his face as you slam the door loudly behind you, toast forgotten.

You don’t particularly enjoy watching men fight. Some people probably enjoy watching one man beat up another. Others may like the sweat and bear chests, the masculinity. You think it’s all barbaric and unnecessary. And yet you’re still sat here, listening to the grunts and the following jeers, watching as fists connect with skin, as blood gets sprayed across the floor, as bodies slam against the floor.

It doesn’t help your anxiety, if anything it makes it worse. But it’s when the bell rings, when you push your way through the crowd to the back rooms, when you finally get to see Namjoon, then it becomes worth it.

Namjoon doesn’t look at you or seem bothered when you walk into the changing room alone, just keeps his focus on his hands. You wonder if he’s growing tired of the fighting too. From what you’ve heard he’s been doing this for a while, is starting to be known as unbeatable, the crowds are starting to grow bored of the act.

“Didn’t bring your guard this time?”

You don’t question how he knows it was you without looking. Just keep on walking until you’re sat on the bench opposite him.

“Maybe I’ve come back to claim my date.”

That at least gets him to glance up at you. There’s a glint in his eye otherwise there’s not humour on his flat face. Just as quickly as he looks up at you, he looks back down at his hands.

“What’s Jimin done now?”

Even he fucking knows? You inwardly curse. Are you really that transparent?

Much like the first time you saw Namjoon here, there’s blood smeared across his neck and chest. Having just watched his fight you’re sure some of it is his but you also know the majority of the blood belongs to his opponent. The guy you saw limping away from the fight while Namjoon simply raised a hand at the jeering crowd and then strode away as if he’d just done a morning stroll.

“He’s helping.”

Namjoon spares you another glance this one lasting longer than the last, a hint of a smile on his lips. “That’s bad?”

“You know Jimin. He doesn’t help. So yes, it’s bad.”

Namjoon huffs a laugh. Sitting up straighter he leans back onto his hands so he can look at you. You must admit, his bare chest is a massive distraction. Though you keep your eyes on his face, it’s hard.

“You never did text me,” he says, starting to slip back into that easy manner you both had before Jimin ruined it last time.

“Must have lost your number.”

“Maybe now I know why Jimin’s offering to help.”

You roll your eyes at him even with the smile that’s appeared on your face. You lean back into your seat, cross your feat out in front of you. There’s a couple of seconds of comfortable silence while you both look at each other.

“I was hoping you were going to tell me why you sought me out that night.” The pause in which you try to gather yourself, not expecting him to be so forward, has Namjoon smiling. The smile starting small and growing to the point that two dimples appear. “Don’t tell me that was all only because you were trying to get under Jimin’s skin.”

“I told you I didn’t know he was going to be there.”

“Good,” he says, “because I don’t like being played.”

The dimples are still there making him look cute but the more serious words make the whole thing is a juxtaposition. Still you don’t blanch from him. You respect that he’s so straight, that he says what he thinks and that he gets to the point. It makes you think about the reason you came here in the first place, why you’ve come back. Taking his lead, you get to the point.

“You must get to know a lot of people working here.” The dimples disappear with his smile. His posture becoming less relaxed and more straight backed and serious. There’s curiosity in his gaze. “You must hear a lot, see a lot of people. Loads of people come through these doors and I’m sure you know lots of them. People must talk to you, or you must hear when they talk in the crowd.”

“That was a lot of talk for me to still feel pretty clueless.”

“You must know a lot.” Namjoon raises an eyebrow; you still need to be plainer. “Tell me what you’ve heard about my dad.”

His eyes flick between yours. “You know I can’t do that.”

You lift an eyebrow, try to exude as much confidence as you can muster. “And what would I need to do, to give you, to change your mind?”

It’s the wrong thing to say. Namjoon’s face stutters clearly not expecting you to be so brash. A flicker of disgust crosses his face before he starts to shut down. You’d scramble to take the words back if you thought it would help, but the words are out there now, you’ve offered yourself to him in return for information and you’ve obviously misread the person sat in front of you. Namjoon’s arms lean back on his legs as his body folds back over himself. Hunched, unapproachable, you wonder if this is his way of internalising, of trying to protect himself from the horrors of the world he lives in.

“I never asked you,” you ignore your previous words as if they were never said. “How did you end up trapped here?”

“Who says I’m trapped?”

“Everyone’s trapped, Joon.”

His eyes lift enough to see you and a spark of hope flares inside you that you haven’t ruined this completely. Still, he doesn’t open up enough to keep the conversation going.

“Yoongi must pay you good money.” You watch as his head lifts a little more.

“He pays me to fight, not for my ears.”

“I never said he did,” you shrug.

You can see him trying to work out what angle you’re trying to play. Truth is you’re not playing with him. Your brother does pay Namjoon handsomely to fight here, to entertain and keep money flowing into Yoongi’s pockets. And it’s only now occurring to you that here’s another source of information that would be easy for Yoongi to gather information from and yet from what you’re picking up from Namjoon, he never has. It’s not like you expect Yoongi to care about your dad or his death, but surely he’d want to find out how he died, if not to make sure the same doesn’t happen to him, but also to make himself not look weak.

Namjoon’s clearly not going to talk to you though. It was a long shot that he’d know anything in the first place.

Namjoon’s head follows you as you stand. Taking your time you wipe a hand down your front to smooth out any creases in your top. You smile when you look up at Namjoon’s still unimpressed face, he clearly wants you gone and yet that’s making you in no rush.

“It was nice to see you again,” you say, semi genuinely. “If you ever remember anything you want to tell me …” you shrug, “I’ll text you so you have my number.”

A nerve ticks in his jaw only making your smile widen. Slowly, you twist and start walking, pausing just before you walk out the door. Your conscience fighting against your brain. You really should leave without saying anything else, but something makes you stop.  

“You should leave here,” you say over your shoulder.

“Huh?”

“I just think,” you turn so you can see him. “You’re better than this, Joon. You should get out.”

He laughs, but it quickly falls off his face in favour of a frown when he sees your face. “And do what?”

“I don’t know,” you try to get your point across without saying anything that’ll give you away. “You could go away on holiday or something. You most make a killing here, you deserve some time away. You don’t owe my brother anything.”

His eyes flick between your, the silence elongating. You give a small nod of your head.

“I’ll give it a thought,” he mumbles.

“Ok,” you whisper back, really hoping he takes the advice.

Without pressing the matter anymore, you take another look at him before turning and walking out the place.

“Where’s Jungkook?”

“He’s already gone out.”

You can see Jimin from out of the corner of your eye, can even hear the frown in his voice. “Where’s he gone?”

You twist to look at him, a small sarcastic smile on his face. “As I said, he’s out.”

The reply seems to irk Jimin which in return brings you more joy.

“You know, I don’t think Yoongi will be happy about that.”

You almost do a sarcastic ooh noise, as if what he said is supposed to be a scary threat. Instead you say, “I think that’s more of a you problem.”

He cocks his head to the side, looks surprised by the fact you’re biting back so much. If he says anything about your tone not being agreeable to someone who’s in the gang, you’re going to strangle him.

“You know, if we’re going to do this – work together – you’re going to have to open up to me a bit.”

He says it in such an understanding way, so gentle and calm. It fucks you off. As if he can start making statements like that and expect you to magically start going along with it. Sure, he was helpful yesterday but that doesn’t mean you’re about to be completely normal with him again. You want his help, don’t want to take ten steps back in your relationship, but you’re also not ready to act as if everything is fine.

You don’t answer him, don’t open up and give him what he wants. Just look back down at the notebook you’ve started writing in. You realised how many things you’re starting to learn, how many things you might think are nothing and forget about but actually could be something. You continue writing anything you can think of that might be substantial rather than look at Jimin.

“What’s up with you this morning?” He asks, finally stepping fully into the room and dragging out the chair next to you to sit on.

You ignore him. You can feel him watching you, probably coming up with his own conclusions to your mood. They can’t be much worse than the real reason, but the silence eats into you enough that you end up talking.

“Me and Jungkook had a disagreement.” It’s the most truth you’re willing to give him. Don’t want to tell him it was after you got back from seeing Namjoon, that the disagreement was about Jimin and him helping you, about why you’re back here in the first place.

“What about?” You hate how gentle his tone turns; it only deepens your annoyance.

“Nothing.”

“It’s clearly not nothing.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You’re going to have to if you want me to help you out today.”

“It’s nothing,” you grind the words out, adding as if to divert his attention, “and I started my period. It’s messing up my hormones.”

There’s a pause, long enough that you think your tactics have worked, long enough that you look up at him see him sat casually, no embarrassment on his face as he stares back at you. You open your mouth to move on, but Jimin talks over you.

“Do you want some pain killers?”

“What?” So taken aback you forget what you’ve even said. “Oh, no, I’ve already had some.”

“A tea?”

“I’m good.”

His eyes dance around the room before landing back on you. “Chocolate?”

You fight the urge to smile and you can see Jimin notice, his own lips lifting into a smile. Damn him and his ease at slipping into your good graces. It seems you’ve both reached your goal; you to stop Jimin asking about yours and Jungkook’s argument, his to improve your mood.

“I’m good,” you say, adding as a mutter, “thanks.”

“Well, just let me know,” he says, still unbashful. “I’d happily make you up a hot water bottle.”

You flush, look back down at your notebook, but you can’t focus on the words, can’t remember what your half-finished sentence was going to say. You can feel Jimin’s amusement across the table but refuse to acknowledge him. Eventually he scrapes his chair back, stands and then you hear the kettle clicking on.

“What you writing?”

You look up at him, as usual he’s casually leaning back against the counter by the kettle, arms crossed over his chest. And as usual, your heart skips a beat at the sight of him looking at you the way he currently is.

“Just some notes,” you say. “We’re still trying to piece everything together and I thought maybe writing it down in a more coherent way would help.” You look at your pages of notes, hardly any of them making sense and none of them link together. “But I think it’s pretty pointless.”

You close the notebook, the dull thud reflects your emotions.

“Your period really is a bad one this month.”

You shoot Jimin a glare, his smile only grows into a beam. The kettle pops, Jimin instinctively looks at it, looks back at you before starting to make his drink. Even though you just said you don’t want a tea, you can see him making up two mugs.

“Let’s talk it through.” You look down at your closed notebook before looking back at Jimin. He lets out a huffed laugh at whatever he sees. “I’m serious.”

You watch his back while he makes you both a hot drink. Maybe it’s him that’s on his period, because you can’t keep up with the way his emotions seem to flipping. One second you’re shouting at each other, the next it’s as if nothing is wrong. You can’t keep up.

You don’t know where you stand with Jimin and all of these mixed emotions aren’t helping. Part of you wants to clear the air, to talk about the two of you rather than this case. But another part of you remembers Jungkook telling you not to lead him on, that you need his help to solve this but after that you can’t be anything more. You didn’t come back here for Jimin. You just need to remind your heart that fact.

“Here you go.”

He places the steaming cup gently in front of you. His face looks soft and welcoming, as if you could tell him anything and trust him to listen. But you’re struggling more and more with where you stand with this man. Is he the grumpy, snapping guy who gets pissed off when you don’t do what he expects. Or is he this, the man who’s concerned when you might be hurting, who wants to listen to what you have to say and work together. How can you trust him? How do you know he’s not just being the latter as a way in? How do you know the second you let your guard down around him he won’t completely exploit that?

“So,” you try to ignore the way his voice is right by your ear. “What you got?”

“Not much.”

Jimin lets out a small frustrated sigh, “Come on, tell me what’s going on in that head.”

Your knee starts to bob under the table, your fingers fidget with the edges of the pages of your notebook. The turmoil currently happening in your head is obvious and yet Jimin lets the silence stretch, lets you have room to think and decide what you want to respond.

“You’re really messing with my head,” you let the honesty slip out, because if this is going to work, if you’re going to let Jimin help then a bit of honesty is needed. “I can’t keep going from being friends one second to slamming doors in each other’s faces the next.”

“I don’t remember slamming a door in your face.”

When you look up at Jimin the scowl on your face makes the smile on his face slide away. Your heart drops, and the little shake of your head has Jimin realising that you’re being serious, that this isn’t a time to joke around you.

“Ok,” he says, his tone matching yours. “Ok. It’s not exactly been smooth sailing having you back.” The lift of your eyebrow has him rolling his eyes, a small smile slipping onto his lips. “That’s not an excuse. I think we’re both trying to work out how to be around each other again.”

“I’m not the one being so hot and cold each day.”

That earns a small, huffed laugh. “Oh, come on. You’re not exactly perfect, Y/N.”

You have to bite your tongue. You know you’re not, but that doesn’t stop you wanting to defend yourself. But that’s not the point here, if you keep doing that the two of you will never stop butting heads.

“You know,” Jimin’s tone goes deep, his words come out slower, neither thing fills you with any hope. “Maybe if we were more open with each other, spoke about things that keep getting brushed under the carpet, we would get along better.”

Yep, you were right, no good could come from that. Though your cheeks feel flush and your heart feels particularly noticeable in your chest. But it’s what you do best, hide your emotions.

“If you want to talk about Sam, I was more than happy to discuss that the other day.”

“That’s not what I was talking about and you know it.”

You’re tempted to call his bluff, see if he’ll actually bring up the kiss he’s so clearly referring to. But it was you that’s always swept it away before. Jimin’s never been ashamed of anything he’s done. It’s you that’s always hid away from it, scared of what’ll happen if the light of day shines on it. Or maybe scared of what Jimin will tell you.

“I’m not about to believe that … that is the reason you beat a guy up, that it’s why you keep getting pissy that Jungkook keeps disappearing, that you keep offering to help but then keeping getting annoyed when I supposedly don’t involve you enough.”

The smile on Jimin’s face widens as you watch him lean back into his chair. It irks you. He’s acting like you’re missing something obvious, and you hate that you can’t work out what. This is why you keep fighting, because you both enjoying winding each other up too much, because you’re both too hot headed and bite too quickly.

You both have too much to work through, too much history. The kiss would only be the start. And however much it may be needed, you don’t have time for that. You don’t have the energy or the words to give Jimin.

Looking down at the table you flick open your notebook. “So I’m pretty sure those interviews were completely useless.” As if catching yourself you look up at Jimin and add, “though not completely useless, it at least ruled people out.”

The amused smile remains on Jimin’s face telling you that you at least didn’t offend him. Maybe attempting to be civil is the way forward.

“So you didn’t think the murder at the docks was unusual?”

You frown. “I mean it was unusual, but I don’t think it was helpful. You disagree?”

Jimin shrugs. “I don’t know, I thought it was too convenient. We’re a gang, sure, but people still don’t just get killed for no reason.”

“Ok,” you say looking down at your notebook and make a note. “And what about all the talk about dad being weak? I don’t know how, but if we found out who was saying it, it would be good to talk to them.”

“Maybe,” Jimin says. “But then I’m sure a lot of people aren’t agreeing with Yoongi right now. It doesn’t mean they’re going to kill him.”

You put a cross through that theory. It doesn’t leave much, not that there is anything substantial there in the first place.

You came back thinking you could do this alone. Just you and Jungkook able to solve this and show Yoongi. But now it feels useless. The words from your fight with Jungkook last night come back to you, how he said that you don’t need to do this to prove yourself. It feels like you do though. Not just because of the deal you made with Yoongi, but to prove it to yourself too.

And yet even this you can’t do without Jimin’s help. Because you may know nothing about your father’s death right now, but before Jimin you knew even less.

“We’ll work it out,” Jimin says softly.

You force a smile onto your lips as you look up at him. Hiding your emotions as always, though you’re sure Jimin can see everything you’re feeling.

“Of course. We just need more time, right?”

Jimin cocks his head to the side, his eyes narrowing as if trying to better see inside you. Shaking your head, you wave a hand in front of your face as if trying to disperse your feelings.

“It’ll be fine,” you say, convincing no one. “I just need air. And an early night, I hardly slept last night.”

Your chair scrapes along the floor as you stand. You expect Jimin to try and stop you, to speak out or maybe stand with you. But as you close your notebook and gather it in your hands he does nothing. The result being you stood looking almost expectantly down at him and him sat looking with soft understanding back up at you.

“This is what I mean,” you can’t stop yourself. “Yesterday you couldn’t wait to shout at me for wanting time off.”

Jimin’s eyebrow raises. “It was a bad day. I took it out on you, and I apologise.”

It’s said too easily for your liking. But no matter how he said it, it wouldn’t have been good enough. Fighting with Jimin is a safety blanket. The last time you weren’t fighting Jimin ended up holding you in his arms, ended up pressing his lips against yours. And that hurt your heart more than fighting with him. Knowing how it feels to have him when you will never have it is too painful.

Swallowing the lump that’s formed in your throat you nod.

“I’ll be upstairs.” You don’t know why you say it, the words feel awkward even as they leave your lips. But before you can over think it you twist and walk out the door.

Not looking at the floor when you walk into your room is a mistake, you nearly trip over the envelope that’s been placed there. There’s your name, address, even a stamp on it, which should be normal but strikes you as odd. No one sends mail to this house, let alone to you. And even if they did mail it, you doubt anyone would have placed it in your room.

A look over your shoulder to check no one’s there, you close your door as quietly as possible. You don’t imagine whoever delivered this is stood watching you, but this whole thing is so odd you can’t help but be twitchy.

Alone, in your room, you pick up the envelope and take it to your bed.

It’s thick, padded, the size of an A4 page. You doubt anyone would send you a card, let alone write enough to send you a page or more of text. The fact makes your heart thump in your chest. You don’t want to open it, and yet another part of you really wants to know what it is.

The writing is bold and sharp, no character to it. You don’t recognise it, though you doubt you would. You have no idea what’s written inside, but you already know whoever sent this to you doesn’t want you to know who they are. The Queen’s profile stares off to the side in the corner, 2nd class and unmarked by a sorting stamp.

Flipping it around you tear open the back. You don’t why you do it, but you don’t reach in and pull out what’s inside, instead you tip the envelop and let its contents fall onto the bed. Your glad you do.

There’s a rustle as the paper falls out and on top of it a small thump, your bed bouncing a little underneath. Your stomach turns. And though you want to twist away, your feet stay planted to the floor.

There’s a thumb.

Skin slightly shrivelled, a bone sticking out the end, the skin has turned black and blue and the blood at the end has dried a dark reddish brown. There’s a rotten smell coming from it. Poking out from under it you can see the paper, in the same bold handwriting, the words:

I KNOW WHAT YOU’RE DOING.

Your mind immediately goes to Jungkook. You should call him, warn him. But it’s not just your feet that are frozen now. Your mind seems to be the only thing working and that’s running a hundred miles an hour.

The message is clear enough. The things that are less clear is who sent it, how they found out and how much they know.

They know you’ve killed a man, that knowledge is dangerous enough. But the message is more questionable. The tense throws you; you’d have thought they’d be threatening you with the death, but they’re trying to tell you they know more. Presumably they know you’re searching for your dad’s killer and are trying to tell you to stop, that the information they have is a threat of what they could do to you if you keep looking. But what if it’s because they know where Jungkook’s been going, what if they know about the other reason you came back, what if they know your plan to –

No. They can’t know about that. It has to be a threat from whoever killed your father.

Which means this was sent from the killer. And they know you killed that man. Fuck. It couldn’t be much worse.

The sight and smell of the thumb coupled with the stress of the situation is making you feel sick. It’s bringing back all the thoughts of that man that you’d tried to forget. What you did will haunt you forever, but the fact that someone might use that against you, doesn’t surprise you but does make the whole thing that much worse. As if you aren’t already being eaten up about it already, now you’re being sent body parts.

It feels like you should be able to read more clues into this to help you work out who killed your father, but you can barely think. Another thing that makes you think maybe you don’t belong here, maybe everyone’s right. You can’t deal with killing someone and now you can’t cope being sent body parts. You’re sure your brother has been through much worse and yet he hasn’t broken, if anything he’s thrived.

Lost in thought, eyes still fixed on the thumb on your bed, you barely register the knock at your door. It’s not until there’s another louder knock and the sound of the door handle going that you turn. Mouth agape, mind still not in the room, it takes you until the door is near fully open to snap back to yourself.

Stepping to your left to try and block the thumb you snap, “I could be naked in here.”

“Maybe that’s the hope,” there’s a cheeky smile on Jimin’s lips as he steps into the room that quickly drops when he takes in your face. “What’s wrong?”

“I should be asking you that, you’re the one barging into my room.”

He doesn’t take the bait of a diversion. His eyes flick quickly around the room before his frown settles back on you.

“You look like death.”

“You’re full of compliments,” you reply flatly.

As if to frustrate you, Jimin takes a step further into the room and though his eyes remain on your face, you shift a little to keep your bed hidden from him. It’s a mistake, it’s what he wanted you to do, to prove there’s something you’re hiding. Now he’s definitely not leaving.

“Seriously, what do you want?” Your tone turns snappy, wanting to get rid of him. “We literally just talked. And I was about to get changed, so if you wouldn’t mind –”

“What’s behind you?”

“What?” You almost jump at the question, really not playing it cool. “Nothing.”

Jimin raises an eyebrow at you, unsurprisingly not buying your bullshit. He takes another step towards you, eyes still on your face. You grow tense, still trying to block the thumb from his view. Why didn’t you put it back in the envelope?

“Will you just fuck off Jimin.”

Another step in your direction so he’s now in touching distance. You feel like you’re sweating. Why won’t he ever just listen to you?

“Jimin,” you warn.

“Y/N,” the way he says your name makes you hold your breath, your throat seeming to close in on itself.

The air in your lungs leaves you when Jimin takes one last step towards you. You can only take short shallow breaths, small enough that you can keep your face neutral as you look at Jimin. His eyes flick between yours, waiting you out.

“Y/N,” he repeats your name more firmly. “Show me.”

You don’t speak because you still can’t, your head doing the smallest of shakes. A nerve in his jaw ticks. You’re pissing him off, you know. But you also know what his reaction will be when he sees what you’re hiding. You’d rather put that off for as long as you can.

Jimin standing so close makes you want to move. He’s waiting you out. Eyes never straying from your face. He knows what he’s doing, knows how he’s affecting you. Especially after recent events. You have to keep your eyes high on his face otherwise you know they’ll stray down to his lips, remembering when they were on yours.

Neither of you back down, the tension in the room shifting and rising. It’s Jimin that breaks it, his hand going to your shoulder and gently moving you to the side. You don’t put up much of a fight, your feet slowly stepping to the side. You watch as Jimin’s eyes go from your face to the bed you’ve revealed to him. The hand that still rests on your shoulder tightens the same way his jaw does. The fact he doesn’t immediately say anything only makes you stress more.

When you go to turn and look at it though, Jimin stops you.

“What is this?” Before you can answer the stupid question, he corrects himself. “Who sent it to you?”

“They didn’t sign their name.”

The comment does nothing to lighten his mood. “And you were going to keep this to yourself.”

“It’s clearly a message for me.”

“One that’s not exactly friendly,” Jimin pushes you a little away from the bed as if he wants to put distance between you and the thumb. “Y/N, you can’t keep this stuff to yourself.”

“And what are you going to do, Jimin?”

His eyes turn fierce, he looks like he’d happily kill because of this and though that’s everything you hate, the assumption you can’t handle this yourself, that you need him to step in and save you, it also stirs something deep inside you. Everyone wants to feel taken care of, like they have someone on their side.

His hand leaves you shoulder cold when he turns away from you. He doesn’t need to say anything, because when he sweeps to pick up the thumb in the paper and starts walking away from you, you follow with a protest.

“Hey,” you shout at his back. “Where the hell are you taking that?”

Silence and the sight of Jimin’s toned back walking away from you is your only response. And while you could just stop, you continue to follow him like some lost puppy. Too stressed to worry about looking pathetic.

It doesn’t take long for you to realise where he’s going and by that point it’s too late to stop him.

You pass a man in the hall you’ve never seen before but with your focus on Jimin you don’t give him as much attention as you normally would. All you take in is the black cap, jeans and black jacket.

Jimin doesn’t knock when he barges into Yoongi’s room and from the little you can see over Jimin’s shoulder, Yoongi doesn’t flinch his eyes lifting long enough to see it’s Jimin before dropping back down to the papers in his hand. It’s great to know where his priorities lie because you know for a fact Yoongi wouldn’t react like that if you barged into the room.

“What’s up?” Yoongi murmurs.

Jimin continues to march until he’s reach Yoongi’s desk. While you slide into the room and lean against the door frame, trying to look as small as possible, Jimin slams the paper on the table, the thumb rolling towards Yoongi.

It takes a second to look away from his papers. Much like Jimin, when his eyes land on the thumb he doesn’t flinch. Calmly he placed the papers down, his eyes going to Jimin’s.

“What the fuck is this?”

“A present to your sister.”

You stand a little taller when both pairs of eyes go to you. Jimin’s still fuming. Yoongi still calm and unreadable.

“And do you know who it’s from?” Yoongi drawls.

Jimin’s lips quirk upwards as if a proud student that’s been proven right. You narrow your eyes at him and resist the urge to mouth suck up.

“It was already in my room when I got back. So your guess is as good as mine.”

Yoongi looks down to the severed thumb as if mulling something over. The longer the silence stretches the more fidgety Jimin gets. His foot tapping on the floor, his jaw grinding. It doesn’t take long for him to break.

“We need to work out who’s threatening her. If they can get in here, into her room, what the fuck else can they do? We can’t let them –”

“Jimin,” Yoongi says in a low voice, effectively cutting Jimin off. His eyes move upwards, the silence once again stretching. “Give us the room.”

You want to laugh as well as shit yourself. You want to beg Jimin not to leave you alone here with Yoongi while also wanting to shove your middle finger up at him for meddling. In the end all you do is watch as he walks towards the door, pausing only briefly when he’s next to you as if he’s going to stop and say something. In the end he says nothing, just keeps on walking, closing the door behind himself.

When you look at Yoongi he’s staring back. Heart thumping, you play it cool as you walk to his desk and take one of the seats opposite him. That thumb seeming to glare back at you.

“Who’s is it?”

The shake of your head is barely noticeable, the frown between your eyes more noticeable. “You know who’s it is.”

“And the note means?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

He hums, eyes staying on your face before dropping to the thumb and note. “And what is it exactly that they know you’re doing?”

“Again, your guess is as good as mine.”

“You think it’s the guy who killed dad?”

Is this a trap? You always feel like Yoongi knows everything. Whenever you’ve spoken to him since coming back and since this plan with Jungkook, you’ve felt like he’s known what you’re doing and is going to call you out any second. But he doesn’t know, he can’t know.

“Yeah,” you mumble in response. “I don’t know what else it could be.”

He hums again, the noise going right through you. You wish he wasn’t always so dark and mysterious. You wish he would just talk to you like a normal person, like you’re his sister.

“Because you wouldn’t be doing anything else, would you, Y/N?”

You hold his stare, don’t rush to answer him. When you do talk your voice is neutral and calm.

“Has Jimin been telling you about Jungkook leaving us all the time, because I swear he’s obsessed.” Yoongi at least looks a little surprised at that, you’re hoping because he wasn’t expecting you to be so plain about it rather than because Jimin hadn’t told him that piece of information. “I didn’t realise part of our deal was that me and Jungkook had to stay together all the time. What’s the saying? Two heads are better than one? Why wouldn’t we split up and look into different theories?”

Yoongi stays silent as he continues to stare you out, his specialty. Finally, his eyes drop away from yours and you feel like you can breathe normally again.

“Well, I’m impressed.”

You frown slightly. “That I got sent a finger?”

“That you weren’t sick.”

Great. He really does think so little of you.

You want to say something. Want to try and say something that’ll prove him wrong. But what could you possibly say that would do that? Nothing, otherwise you would have said it. No hurtful words come, no retort or witty come back. No nothing.

“Dad was right, you are like mum,” your heart completely stops as you stare at him, you can’t believe he’s doing this, now of all times. All words are still stuck in your throat as he carries on. “You probably don’t remember her; you were too young when she died. But she was everything.”

Your heart stops for an entirely different reason. Blood roaring in your ears until you can hardly hear Yoongi.

“Dad was the boss, but people still looked to her because of her kindness, her loyalty and because the fact she would listen to you and had a sway on dad. Unlike Dad people liked her.”

But people don’t like me. You think.

“You have to understand how much her death rocked everyone. How it affected dad. I was only young and yet I felt it. I think you suffered because of that.”

Why is he telling you this? Why is he telling you that you remind him of your mother, a woman he clearly still thinks of dearly and yet he clearly doesn’t feel the same about you, he’s not letting you into the gang? Why is he trying to explain your life back to you? Why is he trying to apologise? He’s never implied he’s thought of you that fondly before. It makes your throat feel tight.

Never wanting to show emotion around Yoongi, you sit rigid and silent opposite him.

“So yeah, dad was right, but he was also totally wrong.” You’ve never known him to be so talkative. Maybe it’s because you’re being so silent or maybe because he wants you to know how he feels about you.

Your heart aches. It’s the closest you’re sure Yoongi will ever get to saying I love you. And you can’t say anything back. You refuse to even think about it. If you do, you worry your emotions might start to seep out.

He watches you for a second. His face is as soft as you’ve ever seen it. He looks human. And despite how much your brain tells you to look away, you can’t bring yourself to.

Your relationship is complicated. You wouldn’t say you’ve ever been close, but there was a strange companionship growing up. Yoongi was definitely the protective older brother; never fully there, but when you needed him, he’d be there and he’d never let anyone hurt you. You may never have grown close, but he still kept in touch when you were away and he’s at least pretending to give you a chance to come back now.

Is it enough? It’s something you’ve battled with for so long. And still you don’t know the answer.

Yoongi’s the first to break eye contact, his face hardening into a look you’re more familiar with as he looks down at the table between you.

“I’ll look into who did this.”

Flat, decisive and clearly your dismissal.

Your heart is still in your throat when you walk out the door. Every word and emotion circling your brain, making you question everything. Why does every decision you make recently feel like the wrong one?

Next 

[angelz-dust]

heatwave (jason todd x gender neutral!reader)

summary: extreme heat leads to a little accident with your popsicle and jason finds a way to rectify the problem.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni) - smut, unprotected sex (no condom, no pulling out - pls wrap it up y’all), shower sex, mild food play (popsicle), mild choking. 

minors/ageless blogs who interact will be blocked - read rules before interacting

the sun shone through the window of your bedroom, the rays of light dancing against your sweaty skin as the wind from your fan made the blinds shake. you laid out on your bed, which had been stripped of its comforter, in only your underwear. you were about ready to peel those off of yourself, too. you weakly grabbed at your phone, checking the weather. 77 degrees.

77 degrees, your ass. it felt like 90. 

as much as you enjoyed reaping the consequences of a depleting ozone layer, you felt like it was time to do something to control the temperature in your apartment. you weren't sure how much longer you'd be able to handle breathing in air that felt thick enough to chew. slowly, you sat up, having to peel your sheet off of your sweaty back. you were going to have to do the laundry at some point because going back to sleep in drenched sheets was just as disgusting as it sounded. that was a problem for 3pm you, though. 11am you needed water. desperately.

waddling your way to the kitchen, you opened the refrigerator door and you let out a loud moan of satisfaction. the bright white lights invited you inside its cold confines and you could've swore you saw a dead relative or two beckoning you in. you didn't want to leave the door open for too long, so you quickly grabbed the last water bottle and shut it. you wasted no time swallowing down the cold liquid, ignoring how it made your teeth hurt and froze your throat. you didn't even care that some of it had spilled down the front of your body, down your chest and to the band of your underwear. you welcomed the cold droplets onto your burning hot skin. 

“fuuuuuuck,” you breathed out, your body going limp as it pressed itself against the metal refrigerator door. you could feel your perspiration creating a suction between it and your skin. it was fine, though. you had no intention of moving anyway.

had it not been for your brain taking a few minutes to power itself off, you would've heard the familiar jingle of keys unlocking the front door and you would've turned to see jason coming in with the desserts you requested. 

“what the hell are you doing?” you heard him say and you slightly turned towards him, a dazed look on your face. he was already stripping out of his clothes before he even asked.

“dying,” you responded, opening the freezer for him as he threw in some ice cream and multiple boxes of popsicles.

jason put his hand on your clammy shoulder, slowly ripping you off of the fridge. he turned you towards him, holding some contraption in his hand, which appeared to be a cross between a spray bottle and a fan. without saying anything, he turned it on and began spraying you down like a misbehaving cat, only you didn't flinch. no, you relished in the feeling of the mist on your face.

“here. i got one for myself, too,” he said, handing you the fan. you smiled happily as you started spraying and fanning yourself all over. 

“i hope whoever invented this is getting bomb ass head right now,” you breathed out, starting to feel some relief.

“what about the guy who bought it for you? what does he get?” jason asked, starting his fan up and spraying his chest, it now glistening with both sweat and tap water. 

“absolutely nothing until the temperature drops,” you smiled at him. “what flavors did you get?”

jason’s lips puckered slightly as he leaned back against the kitchen counter. “strawberry, pineapple, and this caribbean mix with a bunch of flavors in it. you might wanna wait on eating them, though. they’ll probably melt fast.”

“it's a risk i'm willing to take,” you said, going and grabbing a popsicle for yourself. you unwrapped it and hummed happily at the flavor against your tongue. the brand jason bought was a little more expensive but it was definitely worth it. the real fruit juices and chunks were much more satisfying to taste than the artificial flavoring of the other brands.

“is it good?” jason asked, a small smile on his lips. despite being uncomfortably hot, seeing you happy made it bearable. the fact that he was able to provide you with the things you needed, even if it was something as simple as your favorite popsicle, made him feel good.

“mhm,” you nodded, some of the juices starting to trickle down your chin and onto your chest. you looked down and frowned a little. you started spraying your chest, trying to get the stickiness to go away. 

jason watched you desperately try to lick up the juices that were now sliding down the stick and getting on your hands. it just wouldn't stop and it was making a huge mess, just as he had warned you it would. 

“sweetheart, there's more popsicle on your chest than there is in your mouth,” he commented condescendingly and you glared at him.

“maybe that's how i like eating it, jason,” you said, his name coming out of your mouth like venom. 

“you know what? i like eating it that way, too,” he nodded in agreement, stepping towards you and dipping his head down to lick at your collarbone and move down the valley of your chest. 

your breath hitched at the unexpected contact and the added body heat to your personal bubble. jason had come back up, giving you a soft kiss and licking the remnants of your most recent bite off of your lips. as badly as you wanted to melt into the kiss, you pulled away. you grabbed your fan and started spraying him in the face. 

“down, boy,” you scolded him playfully, little giggles coming from him as he flinched his punishment. “i'm trying to eat.”

“so am i,” he smirked, taking the popsicle from you and taking a bite out of it. he looked around the room, whistling as he not so subtly let the popsicle fall against your chest and dragging it down some, watching as it dripped down your abdomen. you gasped out as the contrasting temperatures, your back hitting the fridge. 

“oh wow. i'm so sorry,” his fake apology rang against your ears. he took the dessert off of your skin, handing it back to you. “i'll get that for you.”

his lips and tongue fell upon your skin again, dragging over the stains. he found himself at your nipples, despite not getting anything on them. he swirled his tongue around the quickly hardening buds, managing to get a pleasant sound from you. he got on his knees, collecting the sweetness that was threatening to make it way to your underwear. he eagerly lapped it all up before it got to that point, firmly holding your hips against the door to prevent you from moving away.

“jason, it's too hot,” you sighed as he planted kisses up your naval, looking up at you with playful eyes.

“i know. this is really sexy, isn't it?” he spoke against your body, which got himself sprayed again by you. this time, he saw it as encouragement instead of a punishment. how thoughtful of you to help keep him cool while he focused on making you feel good. 

you kept spraying him until he eventually let up, laughing again as he got off of his knees. “fine, fine. if you won't indulge me in my sexy popsicle fantasy, can we at least go take a shower?”

“only to get the juice off. no other reason,” you said coyly and he smirked at you, giving you a firm nod.

“of course. what other reason would there be?” he asked as the two of you headed to the bathroom, touching at each other and giggling your entire way there, taking what little clothes you both had off of each other. by the time the water started running, the little act had dropped and you were all over each other. it was freezing, which put your bodies into a slight shock as you panted heavily in between feverish kisses. 

jason’s favorite thing to do was hoist you up, with your legs wrapped around his waist. he liked showing you how strong he was and feeling your body flush against his own. he made sure to position you high enough against the tile wall so you wouldn't have water violently hitting your face, but close enough to where you could still feel it everywhere else. he never allowed himself to be blinded by lust at the expense of your comfort. 

his hips rolled into yours and his face found its way back to your chest, peppering it with kisses. you carded your fingers through his wet hair, tugging at it just how he liked. even though you were doing a very physically taxing activity, this was the coolest you had felt all day. you wasted no time giving jason’s plump lips the kisses they had deserved earlier, your boyfriend more than happy to reciprocate. as much as you didn't want to part from him again, he pulled away and began suckling at your neck. normally you would object to being marked in such a visible location but you gave him a pass this one time. after all, he was the guy who bought you the spray fan. 

your feet touched the ground again and he turned you around, pressing you against the wall and grinding softly into your backside. it didn't take him long to pull your leg up and slowly insert himself inside of you. you started seeing stars and that's when your legs became like jelly, causing you to lose your balance. jason quickly reacted, your hearts pounding as you tried to stay vertical.

“are you alright?” he asked, his nose rubbing the shell of your ear. 

“yeah, i just got dizzy,” you explained, grabbing his hand with an embarrassed smile. “i'm okay.”

“so clumsy,” he grinned, kissing your temple as his slow thrusting began. his hand trailed down your side and landed on your ass, using it as leverage.

you moaned his name as he started going deeper and slower. he was teasing you now, which was to be expected. even on the hottest of days, in one of the least comfortable locations, he didn't pass up the opportunity. jason treating this like any other love making session and not just a quickie turned you on even more. he never let you question his dedication to making you unravel beneath him.

“jason, please. stop teasing me,” you begged him, knowing that was the only way he would stop. closed mouths don't get fed, as he would say. 

“only because you asked so nicely,” he responded smugly, picking up the pace now. the sounds of slapping skin and breathy moans were amplified by the acoustics of the room. you began feeling a slight ache; a result of jason’s girth and length inside of you. a normal person would’ve asked for a break, but not you. it fueled you to continued, fucking back against him and squeezing around the very thing that was causing you mild pain. 

“it feels good, doesn’t it?” he asked you and you didn't respond. you hated how he always knew exactly what you were doing. “tell me it does, sweetheart. i wanna hear you say it.”

you ignored him again, moving against him a little faster now. his hands quickly went to your hips, holding you still. “answer me,” he whispered in your ear and you whimpered in defeat.

“it feels good,” you mumbled, trying to move again, but to no avail. 

“sorry, i didn’t catch that.”

“it feels good, jason.”

“i'm glad. i want you to feel good,” he smiled, letting you go. you continued to try and reach your high, doing most of the work now while jason watched. his hands caressed your body, encouraging you to continue. 

“does it feel good for you?” you asked him and he nodded. 

“it always does, sweetheart. i feel amazing whenever i’m with you,” he told you, starting to meet you half way with his thrusts. “doesn't matter if i'm inside you or not.”

you felt your face heat up at his words. you hated how he had that effect on you. you felt yourself slip against the wet tile again and he caught you, pulling you back against him. 

“would you stop doing that?” the two of you laughed together, taking a quick breather. “i need you to not die in the middle of me fucking you, okay?”

“okay, i'm sorry,” you giggled as jason helped you get back into position. “i'm sorry.”

“it's alright, don't worry,” he reassured you, slipping his hand up your front and around your throat. “is this okay?”

you nodded, feeling more secure in this modified position. despite your little interruption, you still felt as needy as ever. his grip on you was so gentle that you could almost be convinced you’d slip again, but jason knew your body like the back of his hand. he knew what he needed to do to keep you safe and not hurt you in the process. 

“let’s finish up,” jason’s tone was comforting and you hummed in agreement, picking up right where the two of you left off. it didn't take long, either. you could feel the pressure building up inside of you, waiting to wash over you. once you felt his tip pressing against that sweet spot he was so good at exploiting, you knew there was no going back now. 

you both started getting sloppy, jason’s thrusts being less methodical and your movements no longer matching with his. jason’s broken gasps and moans send you over the edge, sending you spiraling in euphoria. his grip on your throat tightened very slightly as he filled you up, his face resting in the crook of your neck. you let out a sigh as he slipped out of you, feeling his cheek pressing against you, silently urging you to turn around. you complied, your noses grazing each other before your lips met again with little kisses.

“we can take a real shower now,” he smiled against your lips, kissing you again. “no more sexy fantasies. i promise.”

“no more sexy fantasies during a heatwave,” you corrected him, grabbing your wash cloth and wiping away some of the sweat forming at his hairline. “any other time, they will be greatly accepted and expected.”

“good to know.”

[goodnightmemes]

DEXTER SEASON TWO SENTENCE STARTERS (PART TWO)

Lines taken from 2x07-2x12 of the show Dexter. Feel free to change pronouns or edit in any way to better fit your needs. Here is part one.

❛ I thrive on chaos. But this is good, too. ❜

❛ I had to do a little creative problem-solving at someone else's expense. ❜

❛ Pardon my tits. ❜

❛ Are you trying to fuck her or set her on fire? ❜

❛ Sometimes the truth speaks from a peaceful place. It's taken me a long time to find that place, but I think I have, and it's telling me you're not the right one for me. I'm so sorry. ❜

❛ Is that what I am? Clean? 'cause I don't feel that way at all. ❜

❛ No, I won't do that. I won't let you turn me into you. ❜

❛ Hope you don't expect me to comment on that so you can record it on your hidden tape recorder. I wasn't born yesterday. ❜

❛ Your past is a bigger mystery than fucking Jimmy Hoffa. ❜

❛ No matter what you try, no matter when, no matter how hard you work, I'll always be a step ahead of you for one simple reason. I own you. ❜

❛ When I'm alone and it's quiet, I get scared shitless, like I start hearing what's really going on inside. ❜

❛ 'Cause when you're around, I kind of feel like I can deal with anything, you know? ❜

❛ I've always worked best in the shadows, and that's where I have to stay. ❜

❛ You can't go back. You know that. ❜

❛ You are not allowed to talk about anyone I date as long as you're seeing little Miss "pardon my tits." ❜

❛ She is obviously a vampire. A gross english-titty vampire. ❜

❛ Can't change who I am. I'm crass and dirty, and...I have a very filthy mind. ❜

❛ Jesus Christ. They sell anyone a gun in Florida, won't they? ❜

❛ That man. He wasn't trying to rob you. He was trying to kill you. ❜

❛ Nothing you could do,___, would scare me. ❜

❛ Whatever comes, we'll get through this together. I'm not leaving your side. ❜

❛ I need to embrace who I am, who I've always been. ❜

❛ It's like I've been living underwater, holding my breath, and now I can finally breathe. ❜

❛ ___ almost had me believing it was possible to change, to become something else, as if that ever really happens. I've always known what I am. ❜

❛ I'm finding it's best to accept things you can't change, you know? ❜

❛ Is this the monster that you keep telling me about? ❜

❛ Trust me, when you meet the monster, you'll know. ❜

❛ Nice. My subconscious isn't even bothering with symbolism. ❜

❛ I feel...such regret, which is rare for me. But not that I don't mess up. I do...just never so stupendously. ❜

❛ If they're looking for proof, they won't find it. Not here at least. ❜

❛ Then maybe you should come with us, because who knows what secrets will come ❜ pouring out of me once the drinks start flowing. ❜

❛ I'm done with it and you. Did I not make that clear last night? ❜

❛ Those friends of yours, they didn't even know you. They just see the mask, but I see it all. ❜

❛ Can't live with her. Can't kill her. ❜

❛ Fuck! I'm talking about my feelings. What the fuck is your problem? ❜

❛ I've always sensed there was something... off about him. Like he's hiding in plain sight. ❜

❛ If you got in the middle of this and you got hurt… ❜

❛ The only way I can help you is if you turn yourself in. ❜

❛ Don't you disappear on me. ❜

❛ I want you to know that you meant a lot to me, more than you know, and... I just want to thank you for that. ❜

❛ If I never see her again, it'll be too soon. ❜

❛ Sleep would be nice, but there's too much to do. ❜

❛ Okay, I may be sleeping with him, but it doesn't mean he tells me shit or listens to me about anything, so stop asking! ❜

❛ That's right, motherfucker! It's over. ❜

❛ I knew there was something with you. But this shit? ❜

❛ What can I say? You were right about me. I never held it against you. I don't now. ❜

❛ It's a graze wound. Minor tissue abrasion. No hemorrhage along the bullet track. Sorry. I think I'm gonna live. ❜

❛ If you're not gonna let me go, then kill me now. Just get it over with. ❜

❛ You're a killer. I catch killers. ❜

❛ So it's okay to take a life as long as you get a paycheck for it? ❜

❛ Either kill me or set me free. ❜

❛ Taking a life is one thing, but the care and feeding of it is another. ❜

❛ I'm generally confused most of the time. ❜

❛ You ever care about anyone? Then you shouldn't have to ask. 'Cause when you care about someone, you do what you have to do. ❜

❛ I remember when life was easy, when the only question I worried about was "who's next?" Now it's: "How can I dodge my protective detail? "What should I do with my hostage?" These are not easy questions. ❜

❛ It's not about what I think. It's all about the evidence. ❜

❛ Hair-pulling may not be manly, but it's very effective. ❜

❛ If he wanted me dead, I'd be dead by now. ❜

❛ You are the only one I can count on, jackass. ❜

❛ It puts a pit in my stomach that I can only interpret as... sadness. ❜

❛ You working on an exit strategy? I'm afraid that's not gonna happen. ❜

❛ How come there's never a circus when you need one? ❜

❛ What was that shit last night? Some kind of fucking scare tactic? ❜

❛ Don't test me. I could have killed you. I didn't. ❜

❛ You're actually angry. I've never seen you angry. This is good. ❜

❛ I should warn you. You can't play on my feelings. I don't have any. ❜

❛ It's a tough job. It can wear on even the best of us. ❜

❛ I yell a lot...and bitch and complain, and I keep expecting people to guess what I want, but I never really say it. ❜

❛ And that was exciting, you know? The not knowing. What might happen, what could be. It was all possibility. ❜

❛ Your life is going to rest in the hands of the criminal justice system you put all your faith in. I wish you the best of luck. ❜

❛ You need help. Let me help you. ❜

❛ You don't have to do this! You don't have to kill this man! ❜

❛ Sorry it had to go down like this. But there really was no other way. ❜

❛ Stay away. Just stay away from me. ❜

❛ Did you happen to be stuffing a human leg into a garbage bag at that point? ❜

❛ There's that anger again. You got to let that out. ❜

❛ You're spinning. Let me help you. It's only a matter of time before you'll hurt someone else. ❜

❛ Take responsibility for who you are. ❜

❛ Why can't you just let me go? ❜

❛ If I got to choose a person... A real person... to be like, out of anyone, it'd be you. ❜

❛ Who joined who in the shower this morning? ❜

❛ For such a neat monster, I'm making an awfully big mess. ❜

❛ Maybe this is how evil works. Destroying everything it touches. ❜

❛ I've been held prisoner in a cabin for two fucking days. Fucking hellhole. ❜

❛ After everything we've been through lately, I just want... to be together with you guys. ❜

❛ You told me to take responsibility for what I am. You were right. ❜

❛ I can't live in this house of cards anymore, waiting for it all to fall down. I need to do something, you know? ❜

❛ If I do this, I need a day to get my affairs in order. ❜

❛ Mention that when they interview you for the story of my life. ❜

❛ Don't leave me in this cage, anything could happen. ❜

❛ I lie to everyone I know... except my victims right before I kill them. It's hard to establish much of a rapport there. ❜

❛ Sorry about the cage. ❜

❛ I've always been curious to try. Do you have any weed? ❜

❛ Love's a battlefield. Or in your case, a restraining order. ❜

❛ When a pretty girl smiles and bats her eyelashes, we're powerless to resist. ❜

❛ I met with a lawyer yesterday. He helped me prepare a living trust that gives you control of all my assets in the event of my death or... certain other situations. ❜

❛ God. Go away. This is creepy. ❜

❛ I'm free tonight, you wanna stop by? We'll have beer, a couple of steaks? I wanna talk to you about something. ❜

❛ I just need you to know that... you and the kids are very important to me. No matter what happens, I want you to always know that. ❜

❛ I know I've been taking things slow with us, but it's not because I don't have feelings for you. It's more like I have too many feelings, and I just wanna make sure to get it right. ❜

❛ I want you gone. Tonight. ❜

❛ I've spent a lifetime keeping up my guard, watching my back, wearing my mask. Relief was never in sight until now. ❜

❛ Lately, I was starting to feel like I had my head pretty far up my ass. ❜

❛ You decide who you are, who you want to be...and you hold onto that and ride it out. ❜

❛ I need some help! Just open the door! I'm being held captive. ❜

❛ Damn, it's good to see another face. I never thought I would. ❜

❛ When something beyond reason happens, it turns skeptics into believers. ❜

❛ If you believe that God makes miracles, you have to wonder if Satan has a few up his sleeve. ❜

❛ I can't exactly feel their pain, but I can appreciate it. ❜

❛ I kinda forgot who I was. I got it straight now. ❜

❛ The term is homicidal maniac. Not that I'm judging. ❜

❛ A public place. You thought I was gonna...That I would slip my needle into your neck? ❜

❛ You're afraid of me now, aren't you? ❜

❛ You're emotionally color-blind. You use the right words, you pantomime the right behavior, but feelings never come to pass. ❜

❛ You know the dictionary definition of emotions: longing, joy, sorrow...You have no idea of what any of those things actually feel like. ❜

❛ I created a monster of my own. ❜

❛ What did you do to make her so pathetically crazy for you? Does your dick dance? ❜

❛ What're we doing home in the middle of the day? She asked, hoping for sex. ❜

❛ Why? Why do I have to make up my mind? ❜

❛ I've never put much weight onto the idea of a higher power. But if I didn't know better, I'd have to believe that some force out there wants me to keep doing what I'm doing. ❜

❛ As it turns out, nobody mourns the wicked. ❜

❛ Am I evil? Am I good? I'm done asking those questions. I don't have the answers. ❜

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

not allowed v, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader, mentions of jungkook x reader – est. poly relationship

summary: BTS have had a long, busy day. Heck, a busy week, preparing for 2021 Grammys performance and interviews. It’s finally over, and all Min Yoongi wants is to take a shower and sleep with his favorite person. There’s no one like you. He deserves some special treatment – some belated birthday wishes granted perhaps?

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; domestic shower care (aww) and shower sex (hell yeah); feels and fluff; smut (fem reader, dirty talk, fingering, nipple play, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, handjob / blowjob (with tongue technology), f-receiving oral, doggy, spanking); idol!BTS; occurs the night of the 2021 Grammys

part of ‘not allowed’ series, but can be read alone. basic summary: MYG asks JJK to fuck you, again, let’s keep this going, oop JK dyed his hair blue; based on real time.

–

"I'm sorry you didn't win."

"It's okay. It was a long shot anyway."

"Well, you are good at basketball, so you can make a long shot, easy."

A deep, raspy chuckle. "Next time."

Water drummed against the tile, the rhythm interrupted by you working shampoo through black hair, conjuring fistfuls of lathered white clouds. The head lifted a little and you were about to chastise him, but one look into those black-brown eyes and small sheepish smile looking down at you, and you forgot what you were going to say. 

"It was never about us anyway. We wanted to win so ARMY could brag about us."

You grinned, chuckling a little. "They always brag about you, Yoongi."

You saw something flit across his face, but he didn't say anything. You already knew. I wish you could brag about me. And you did, but not in the way he wanted, because he was Min Yoongi, SUGA of BTS, Agust D sometimes, and your secret all of the time. You closed the distance, a simple, sweet kiss in response to his wordless wish, I know, me too, hands curling in his soapy hair, smiling gently against his lips. Hm. You could feel Yoongi was thoroughly enjoying your wet breasts against his chest. 

Something hard was poking you quite insistently.

You drew back a little and Yoongi's hands circled your waist, keeping your hips to him.

"Thought you said you were sleepy?" you teased.

Yoongi grinned slyly. "I changed my mind."

You chuckled, tipping his head back to rinse his hair off, forcing him to close his eyes with a displeased grunt. You could tell from his dark circles that he was tired from the stress of the day, having to wake up at two in the morning and be ready for his call time at five, but he still insisted for you to come, still insisted for you to sneak around and be here when he came home. You didn't get to see Yoongi on his birthday and not during the weekend before either. He was too busy filming content and preparing for the Grammys.

You did send him a voice message of you singing happy birthday and he replied with, thank you, my love, instead of the usual, you would benefit from a vocal coach, which meant he missed you far too much to tease you. 

You carefully straightened his neck and Yoongi breathed out, raising a hand to push his black hair away from his face, slicking it back and exposing his forehead. 

Oof.

Sexy. 

Yoongi's eyes opened, dark brown orbs reflecting the mischief in his smirk. 

"You sure you don't want me to call the maknae?" he asked not-so-innocently. 

You narrowed your eyes at him. He knew what he was doing. 

Your boyfriend had posted a selfie this morning, only to be followed up by Jeon Jungkook’s adorable pose in a colorful fluffy flannel shirt on Weverse. Earlier in the week, Jungkook had cutely invaded and sang happy birthday on Yoongi’s celebratory live, and then put up a picture of himself on his post for said hyung’s birthday.

The absolute gall of the Golden Maknae. 

Needless to say, you were disappointed, but not surprised. Only slightly though. Jungkook was like that. A little bit – alright, a lot – of a naughty little shit that needed his cock brutally choked by your throat or pussy every once in a while. Actually, no, definitely both, just to be on the safe side. But this day was not that day.

"You said you wanted to be selfish today," was your calm response to Yoongi's question, reaching behind him to rinse off your hands, pressing your tits into his chest. Your eyes flickered up to his. Yoongi raised an eyebrow as your fingers trailed on his back, drawing small patterns. 

"Has he been a bad boy?" he chuckled, referring to, of course, the shameless audacity of your other boyfriend, well-loved and doted-on Jeon Jungkook. 

Your expression matched his, inquiring but already knowing the answer. A silent conversation between kindred souls that followed the same thought process. Closer, water gliding between your bodies, lips fitting against his, lightly nipping at his lower lip as if to say, we're both a little mean, Yoongi chuckling in agreement as he captured your lips forcefully. Hands all over wet bodies, pressing him to you and him reciprocating, hot water seeming hotter, steam getting steamier, kisses passionate and intense, Yoongi pushing you into the shower wall, not letting you get away.

Jungkook had known you were coming, but he wasn't allowed to attend this time. 

He said he was tired from the events of today and he wanted you to spend time with Yoongi alone because it had been Yoongi's birthday recently and they should definitely get special treatment during their birthdays, right?

"I want special treatment on my birthday, so I suppose hyung should as well..." 

"Ah, that's too bad, I was looking forward to punishing you."

"Noona...!" You could hear the shy pout in Jungkook's voice as it lowered, whispering into his phone. "Don't say stuff like that..."

You heard a sneaky cat-like purr in the background. "Say what?"

Jungkook started and you heard the violent rattle of the phone falling, followed by scrambles to retrieve it. Ah. You could see now why Jungkook's phone was taped.

"Hyung! Don’t... I thought you were still in the bathroom..."

"Mmm." You knew that what that hum meant. You've been on the phone for a while. And Jungkook had, lamenting that he wished they could have won the award and had a celebration live with ARMY and you had to reassure him over and over that there would be more chances and ARMY was already very proud with the nomination, yourself included. 

"Uh... do you want to talk to hyung? He's here..." Jungkook did not sound like he wanted to give his phone up. He was only asking out of politeness.

"No, Jungkook, I'll see him in a bit."

"She said no, huh?" Yoongi mused and then you heard the sounds of footsteps wandering away. 

Jungkook made a questioning noise, but you reoriented him rather quickly. 

"I want to hear your voice some more, Jungkook." You recalled the opening of the Grammys 'Dynamite' performance and his teasing, cocky nose scrunch. "Was feeling rather sexy during the recording, weren't you?"

"You saw?" An edge of excitement to his tone. "That was for you, noona," he added playfully. 

"No, it wasn't."

His faint, wicked snicker. "Okay, you're right, but I did think about you while doing it."

"Mmmhmm. What part of me? My smiling face or my warm mouth wrapped around your cock?"

"Noona!"

Alright, you did end up giving Jungkook a little bit of punishment, because neither you nor himself could help it. And at the very end, he played along, whining for you because he knew you wanted him to. Fuck, he was getting clever now, remembering all the things you liked. Stupid sexy Jungkook and his duality.

"Can't I come too? Please, noona?"

It took a lot of refuse his cute voice, but you did make a promise to Yoongi and you never broke your promises.

"Sorry, Jungkook, you're not allowed this time."

Reliving your memory was abruptly interrupted by two fingers sliding into your pussy.

"Excuse you," you muttered into Yoongi's lips. 

"What are you thinking about that's gotten you so wet, hm?" he drawled, dripping water down your cheeks and chest, kissing from your lips and up your jaw, slowly working his fingers in and out, your wetness thicker, warmer than the water, leaking down his knuckles. His voice in your ear, low and dangerous, making you fall for him more and more. "Thinking about me or the maknae?"

...

Min Yoongi knew you too well.

"T-That's..."

Couldn't think of a smart comeback, not with Yoongi's voice so sensual and invasive, staring up at the hazy ceiling while he sucked on your ear, biting your lip to stifle your moans, nerves lighting with shivering arousal. His fingers controlled, measured, focused on deeply penetrating you to graze your favorite spots, rubbing your walls and pressing his thumb into your clit, slow circles causing throbs of pleasure to glide through you. Yoongi knew all the places that made you weak, licking right under your ear to make you whimper for him, kissing and sucking up and down the curve. The warm water created a steady hum, background music for his dirty words. 

"Is that why Jungkookie ran so fast to the bathroom earlier today, hm? Mmm, you shouldn't mess with him so much. You should know better as his noona," Yoongi murmured softly, speeding up, catching your earlobe with his teeth and tugging on it, words slightly muffled as he continued, waves of heat flaring upwards with every thrust. "He'll keep teasing you, pretending it's for ARMY, and then when he has you next, he'll make you beg for his cock…" Teeth biting down, leaving a visible mark, his gravelly whisper sparking inhibitions. 

"And I'm going to watch you."

Fuck you, Min Yoongi, for always knowing the right thing to say.

Yoongi flicked your clit and you cried out, bucking into his hand, almost losing balance, but his left arm came up behind the small of your back and held you in place, strong and unyielding, orgasm cut short with your sudden worry of straining his recovery, but Yoongi already knew, cooing comfortingly in your inflamed ear. 

"I was dancing during the recording, remember?"

Right, he was cleared to dance, but still...

And again, Yoongi led you back into the proper headspace, kissing and nipping down your neck, tongue against your collarbones, stroking your side with his left hand as his right pushed in and out of you, building the pace and your needy gasps once more. 

"Shh, you're a good girl, don't move and nothing bad will happen."

A tinge of menace in his voice, indicating the double meaning, I won't get hurt and maybe you won't get punished. Only a maybe though, sending a delighted spark up your spine, pressing your shoulder blades into the shower wall, instinctively raising one of your legs to give Yoongi more space. You glanced down, but he wasn't looking at you, eyes calmly closed, soaked black strands sticking to his forehead as his pink lips wrapped around one of your nipples. Instant pleasure from his expert tongue, teasing the moans of his name out of you, praising him, fuck yes, Yoongi, so good, I love this, fingers filling you repeatedly, thumb knuckle grinding onto your clit, sucking on your hard nipple. You were so focused on the feeling that your torso froze up, head and hands pressed into the wall, back arcing as you came, pulses of ecstasy enveloping you, but Yoongi didn't stop, forcing another finger inside your tight hole, whines in your throat as your shuddering pussy sucked it in, still riding waves of aftershocks.

His left hand slid up and pinched your ignored nipple. 

"Yoongi, fuck...!"

You could only curse the gods that created the genius that was Min Yoongi, chuckling as he rubbed your left nipple, sucked on the right, thumb knuckle on your clit, three fingers fully stuffed inside you, so hard and so fast that his forearm was nearly vibrating. Too coordinated, too rough, too much, mind going blank, already orgasming, and again, and again, not stopping.

He was too good. 

Yoongi wasn’t going to stop until you made him. 

Your eyes rolled back, rocketing bolts of pleasure overtaking everything, entire body shaking and quivering with overstimulation, your own knuckles white because your fingers somehow curled into fists, moans rattling your chest as wave after wave of pleasure attacked you, pushing you to the brink of collapse.

"Y-Yoongi, oh, fuuuuuuuk, Yoongi!"

Your body made the executive decision for you, left hand shooting down and grabbing his forearm, gripping it tightly, gasping for air, making sure to keep his long fingers buried all the way inside, his hard muscle flexing under your palm. Fuck, so hot. Yoongi immediately stopped, detaching his mouth from your nipple, and you could barely protest, tremors thundering through your torso as your pussy spasmed and soaked his fingers with your sweet-sour juices, your inner muscles rapidly clenching and unclenching around him, his low moans filling your ears as he felt each strong pulse, stretching his fingers against your convulsing walls to amplify your pleasure and feel it all.

"Fuck..." Yoongi panted, leaning against you and your heaving chest. "Fuck, you're so pretty when you're wrecked." 

His lips on your temple, kissing you fiercely, grinding his crotch into your hip and revealing how hard he was as you tried to come down, tried to calm your heart threatening to pound out of your chest. You turned your head to face him and he was there, devouring your lips with rough kisses, pulling his fingers out to tug and pinch at your nipples with his knuckles, smirking at your submissive whines, your hands wandering down and gripping his length, leisurely stroking him.

Now Yoongi was the one gasping into your mouth, switching to rubbing your hard sensitive nipples to coax you to do more, switching your positions in the shower so his back was to the water. The two of you were only half-finished washing up, but neither of you seemed to notice or care.

You backed up a little, breaking the kiss, seeing Yoongi’s dazed expression as you lightly cupped the head of his cock in your palm, gently rolling into the slickness, continuing for several seconds before adding a little more pressure. He inhaled sharply, pleading for more with his breathing alone. His chin was slightly tilted upwards, black hair sticking to his forehead, pink lips slightly parted, water trickling in rivets down his neck and chest.

Yoongi noticed you staring and gave you his trademark open-mouthed smirk.

Who taught Jeon Jungkook how to be hot as hell?

It had to have been Min Yoongi.

You mentally took note of this image of wet Yoongi so you could masturbate to it later.

He cocked a brow and you cocked one back, challenging him. Then you dropped to your knees, careful with the slippery floor, and yanked his hips to your face so he blocked all of the water with his body. His stiff length smacked you in the lips and smeared pre-cum on them. You heard Yoongi gasp and you looked up, seeing him watching you, expectation and hunger in his dark eyes.

You smirked, tongue snaking out and licking your lips to taste him.

“Is my good girl going to do all my favorite things?” he drawled in his extra-low octave.

Your pussy throbbed at his domineering tone. You didn’t have to say anything, your scorching gaze alone creating that amused smirk on Yoongi’s lips. I know what you want. One hand holding up his cock, leaning forward, and Yoongi groaned in satisfaction, your mouth sucking in one of his balls, your deft tongue circling the other in loud, messy slurps, suffocating one while licking the other. You flicked your wrist back and forth, pumping his cock as you worked his balls, lips tight and pulling slightly, tongue flexed and slapping against the other.

You looked up at Yoongi’s dilated pupils, knowing that he could see flashes of your pink tongue against his balls, your hand stroking him slowly and deliberately.

“You’re so good, fuck… So fucking good at that,” Yoongi panted. “Every other man in the world is jealous that they’re never going to get to experience this.”

You popped your mouth off, making him hiss with pleasure. “That’s not true. I’ll give it to Jungkookie eventually.”

“Ah, he’s lucky that I picked him.”

You raised your eyebrows, you picked him, uh huh, I was the one stalking him on Twitter, and Yoongi nudged you with his hips, eyes narrowing dangerously, put my balls in your fucking mouth, and you obeyed, switching to his right side and sucking it into your plush lips, tongue snaking out to lap at his left one, now pumping him with your dominant right hand. He sucked in a breath, moaning softly, clenching his jaw as you increased to his favorite pressure and speed.

“Fuck, yes, make me cum just like this,” he snarled, as much a plea as it was an order, rocking his hips a little so he tugged on his balls in your mouth, forcing you to suck harder and lick more roughly to keep him in place, obscene slurps adding another layer to the song that was the falling water, Yoongi’s moans, and the rapid slap-slap-slap of your hand furiously jacking off his twitching hardness. You glanced up at him and he was observing you closely, drinking in every second of your mouth, hand, and spread-open thighs as you kneeled for him, water dripping off your nipples and ass, groaning your name, tone saturated with lust.

“Ah, fuck, I love you so much, you look so fucking good like this…”

You could tell he was getting close with how shallow his breathing was becoming. Tighter, harder, so devoted to the cause that you were whimpering to add vibration to the multiple sensations, drunk on the taste of his skin and the scent of his pre-cum right next to your head, needing it, wanting it, right now, your eyes telling him, please Yoongi, cum for me, want you to cum for me so bad, and he bit his lip, tense growl contained in his throat that morphed into a drawn-out wail.

“Fuck, now, fuck!”

You abruptly pulled off his balls and Yoongi gasped, startled and confused as you quickly repositioned yourself so he shot thick strings onto your mouth, painting your red swollen lips with drizzles of white, up your cheek and onto your nose, dark eyes wide as he witnessed his indecent mark on you. Like something out of a literal porno, your lips coated with glossy lines of his semen. You looked up at him, still holding his cock, sinfully triumphant.

Your devious smirk covered in cum.

“You wicked, dirty woman,” Yoongi breathed in amazement.

His hand was travelling down so you removed yours, already guessing what was coming next. You placed your hands on your thighs, sinking into the softness as Yoongi groaned, wrapping his fingers around his cock, pumping himself slowly to the image of your cum-covered puffy lips, red and white, upper body tilted back so your hard nipples pointed upwards towards him, squeezing your breasts together with your arms while your hands kept your thighs spread, wet pussy exposed to him.

“Fuck,” he hissed, so hard you could see the flashes of veins standing out through his fingers. “You’re too much, too sexy, come closer so I can use that mouth.”

You scooted nearer and Yoongi pushed his cock into your lips, moaning as he watched his orgasm smear down his length and disappear with each centimeter his cock into your tight, hot mouth, your eyes taking in the jerks of his shoulders and slack jaw, forcing you to take him all the way to the base. He was so turned on that you knew he wasn’t going to last as long as he wanted, but there was no stopping him now, already shallowly thrusting. You knew how to make him pause though, tightly tensing your throat muscles around the tip. Yoongi threw his head back, your name a desperate whine.

“Please, shit, I’m so fucking sensitive, fuck…”

Slowly Yoongi’s head rolled back and you took the chance to slide your tongue out, hands coming up to cup his balls, licking them in playful figure-eights with his entire length crammed down your throat, barely able to breathe.

You didn’t care.

Yoongi was in literal heaven.

Swearing, gasping, moaning, enjoying it for a good twenty seconds before fitting his right hand behind your head, tangled in your wet hair.

“Hold me,” he gritted out. “Hold me so I can fuck your face.”

You backed up a little to take a deep lungful of air, placing your hands on his hips. There was so much adrenaline coursing through your veins that you didn’t even notice that your knees were screaming in pain, completely focused on getting your throat ready for Yoongi’s abuse.

Your eyes flickered up to him, giving him the signal.

Yoongi grinned and began to thrust into your mouth. You adjusted your neck a little and Yoongi hissed, the throbbing head of his cock now rubbing against the roof of your mouth with every slide down your throat, rolling his hips into your face. You could tell he wanted to keep it slow, but his body craved the speed and he finally gave in, fucking your face mercilessly, fast and rough, nearly choking you but not quite, and that was the best part, Yoongi always knowing the edge, always knowing how much you could take, chuckling darkly as your moaned around his cock, trying not to dig your nails into his skin.

“It’s okay, do it,” Yoongi nudged, devilish edge to his voice. “Do it. No one is going to look there.”

Eye contact.

You sure?

He ticked a brow.

How many people were going to look at his ass? Eh, he was right.

You sank your nails into his hips and dragged them down, creating red scratches around his crotch.

“Yes, fuck, yes,” Yoongi gasped with your name, urging you for more, you clawing at his ass as he forced himself between your tight lips, marking him up, praying no one was going to ask why his ass looked like a cat’s scratching post, but it was doomed, your cries vibrating his cock, Yoongi losing control, lustful shudder as his cock jolted in your mouth, spilling down your throat. You swallowed greedily, puffing breath around his thick length, sucking a little so you could feel every quiver, his taste strong and salty, so delicious that your pussy pulsated with satisfaction even through it wasn’t being stimulated.

You felt Yoongi caress your wet hair, soft praises floating down to your ears. You licked him delicately, ghosting your tongue around and around the head. He shivered, exhaling hard.

“Such a good girl, taking me so well…”

You felt his cock soften. You did what any sensible human would do and took him all the way in your mouth to bounce his balls with your tongue.

Yoongi chuckled.

“You’re crazy.”

You gave him your gurgled response with his dick still down your throat.

“You’re right, I do love it.” He tapped your cheek. “But the water’s getting cold, so let’s finish this shower and get into bed.”

-

“Yoongi?”

“Hm?”

“What happened to my ripped panties?”

“From last time? Don’t know. Jungkook had them in his pocket.”

You frowned, working product through your wet hair. “I hope he threw them away safely.”

Yoongi looked thoughtful. “Ah, is that what he snuck over to Jimin’s room for?”

“What?”

He shrugged. “It would be a good cover.”

You gawked at him.

Yoongi didn’t elaborate, going back to daintily and dutifully applying his skincare.

-

Get into bed.

This wasn’t exactly what you thought Yoongi meant, but you weren’t mad at it.

“Fuck, that’s so insanely hot…”

You were kneeling on the bed, chin on the pillows, knees spread, hands on your ass cheeks to spread your pussy open so your boyfriend Min Yoongi could watch you flex your wet opening.

At least he gave you time to blow-dry your hair before ordering you around.

For the moment, you were staring at the headboard, keenly concentrating on the exact precision and force needed to open and close with varying degrees. Most of the time, there was no need to be this focused, but Yoongi had asked for a show, so you were going to give him one. You could hear him slowly stroking himself, panting with exertion and awe. The bed sank a little as his weight was added, coming up behind you. Anticipation zipped through your veins, heartbeat spiking.

“A-ah!”

You felt a cold, fine spray on your ass and back. The fuck? Then the scent hit you, sudden citrus mixed with a verdant musk and the base of pine wood. On your skin, it immediately morphed, turning warmer, almost smokier, different than how it smelled on Yoongi. You twisted your head around, giving Yoongi’s smirking face a startled look.

“Did you just spray me with your cologne?”

He tucked his tongue between his neat white teeth. “No.” Which obviously meant yes.

You narrowed your eyes. “You shouldn’t do that. Someone might figure it out.”

Yoongi raised an eyebrow underneath his fluffy black bangs. “I’m sure many people buy and wear my cologne, including women. Can’t keep anything a secret these days.”

There was a twinge of arrogance and wistfulness in his deep voice, but before you could break it down and ask, what about me, Yoongi leaned in and shoved his tongue into your pussy.

“F-fuck, Yoongi!”

His satisfied groan trembled through your nerves, igniting arousal and causing you to clench around his tongue involuntarily. He didn’t have to say it, both of you already thinking it, keep going, but now you were gasping, getting wetter and wetter with the addition of Yoongi’s tongue lazily sliding up and down as your muscles contracted and relaxed, letting him feel your skill and power, his moans vibrating through you from your core. It was already slick and getting slicker, Yoongi’s tongue gracefully sliding through your folds, thrusting into your hole, your juices like honey seeping onto his greedy mouth, so fucking good you didn’t need to control it anymore, it was just happening, and it took everything in you not to shove your ass into his face even though you wanted to, because you didn’t want to make any sudden movements and accidentally hurt him when he had already worked so hard today.

Yoongi chuckled.

“Fuck you,” you hissed, knowing he could see the strain in your arms and the tremble of your hips trying to keep your position as he sucked on your clit.

He removed his mouth and you grumbled in disappointment, cutting yourself off when you heard the distinct rip of a foil packet.

“No, fuck you.”

Yoongi said it as if he was telling someone the time and not about to forcefully plunge his dick right into where his mouth was a second ago.

“Ah, fuck yes, Yoongi…”

He sank right in, stretching you out deliciously, sighing as your wet walls molded around his cock, familiar and wonderful. You finally had the chance to remove your hands from your ass so you could hold yourself up, relieving some of the pressure on your poor knees.

“I’m choosing to ignore your disrespect,” Yoongi purred, placing his hands on your hips and bottoming out, his balls smacking your engorged clit roughly, earning a low hiss from your throat. Your fingers twisted into the sheets, breathing hard as your body adjusted. He was asking you how you wanted it. You clicked your tongue and turned your head back, seeing him watching you closely under his black hair shadowing his dark brown eyes.

“What a nice guy,” you remarked in a cool, defiant tone, borderline bored.

Come on, Yoongi, mess me up.

His lips curved into that devious, open-mouthed smirk you loved so much.

“Mhm.”

He slid out and slapped his crotch into your ass, hard.

“Yes, Yoongi, fuck!”

Your nails sank into your palms and you shoved your fists into the sheets, locking your upper body so you could push back into his rough thrusts, pleased grin on your lips, his perfect cock filling you over and over again, core tensed tight to feel all of him, the thick head forcing its way deep inside slick velvet, the rock-hard length twitching against each ridge, his balls bouncing against your inflamed clit, so full, so good, so intense that it almost hurt.

It wasn’t enough.

Panting hard, chest shuddering, you reached up and planted a hand flat against the headboard and clenched your jaw, bucking back into Yoongi’s crotch. His voice was mind-numbingly deep, full of desire and danger.

“Harder it is, my love.”

You smirked, then gasped as you felt the hot sting of Yoongi’s palm on your ass, the sound reverting against the apartment walls. He didn’t stop, fucking you hard into the bed and slapping your ass as you kept up with his pace, doing half the work for him so he could focus on each sharp spank to make your ass bounce on his cock, the bed screaming for you two to stop, but neither of you noticed, completely focused on chasing wild, feral pleasure, Yoongi growling your name and you moaning at his carnal tone, soaking his skin with thick, sweet-smelling juices, pussy violently massaging his length.

“That’s it,” Yoongi hissed, breathing rapid and shallow, ceasing his slapping of your red ass to seize your hips and fuck you even harder, digging his nails into your skin and marking you with his lust. “Feels so good fucking this perfect body just the way I like.”

Fuck, his voice, taking your heart and setting your world into lustful wildfire, no one like him, nothing like this, making you lose your mind and fuck back against him harder, the roller coaster climbing higher and higher and higher, Yoongi cursing under his breath, and you were so far gone that you almost didn’t pick up his words.

“Shit, Jungkookie would have loved watching you get wrecked by me.”

A low moan ripped from your throat, the thought of Jungkook’s needy voice and expression seeing you get pounded by Yoongi’s full strength, being told to watch and probably not being able to help touching himself, fuck, you wanted it, wanted Jungkook so bad at that very moment, wanted to show him how ruined you were, knowing he would love it, crave it, desire it, fuck, it was too much and you came hard, seeing stars, planets, fuck it, the whole fucking galaxy, fingernails curling into the headboard and whining at the sensitivity, body rolling onto Yoongi’s cock and squeezing it powerfully. Yoongi gasped out your name, grip tightening as he spilled into the condom, his length pulsating and twitching into your walls. You thought that was it, but Yoongi’s fingers snaked down between your legs.

“Oh, fuck, Yoongi, Yoongi, fuck!”

He roughly rubbed your aching clit with two fingers, forcing you to cum again around his cock, moaning loudly with every convulsion of your overstimulated pussy, viscous juices clinging to the insides of your joined thighs, completely defeating the purpose of the fucking shower, but neither of you seemed to remember that, Yoongi too busy using his last ounce of strength to push you to your limit, flicking the sensitive bundle of nerves and vibrating his fingertips against it, your eyes rolling back and spine clattering as another orgasm blasted through you, up your torso and straight to your head, numbing pleasure overtaking everything, arm going slack and forgetting to hold yourself up, hand slipping on the headboard, fatigue finally having its way.

Yoongi was quick to slide his hand up your belly and keep you up, wiry strength of his right arm balancing between your breasts to prevent you from falling into the bed.

“Holy f-fuck…”

The words sounded far away even though they were yours, the resounding beat in your ears being your pulse trying to catch up, nerves tingling all over, acutely aware of the tiny flinches gliding across your skin, aftershocks of a particularly explosive orgasm. Your pussy was still throbbing around Yoongi’s spent cock, locking him in your embrace. You planted your hands onto the bed and lifted yourself up rather shakily, taking the burden off Yoongi’s arm.

“You okay?” Yoongi asked, caressing the underside of your breast lightly.

You had the energy to raise one hand and give him a thumbs-up.

He rapped your ribcage. “Stop that.”

You chuckled, finding your voice a bit hoarse. “Why? You always do it in pictures.”

You heard Yoongi mumble disapprovingly behind you. “Is that why you do that? To make fun of me when I take photos?”

“Almost eight years of being an idol and you still don’t know what to do with your hands in pictures,” you teased.

He pinched your nipples roughly and you yelped.

“I know what to do with my hands around you,” Yoongi growled, rubbing them between his fingertips, your moans radiating off his walls. “And that’s what matters.”

-

interlude 20210419 drabble — “This is not allowed, you two.”

part vi “Shh, you’re not allowed to tell anyone.”

--

masterpost

[writteninkat]

Forever and Always | Bakugou x Reader

summary: "And I stare at the phone, he still hasn't called. And then I feel so low I can't feel nothing at all. And I flashback to when he said forever and always."

w/c: 2.1k

warnings: angst

a/n: i cried while writing this.

navigation

Eijirou's body is amazing; scultped abs, hard chest, chiseled arms and such broad shoulders. You watched as he did pull ups in front of you, with his back facing towards you. He lets go of the bars, turning around, smiling as he extends his hand. "Babe, can you pass me my towel please?"

"Babe, can you pass me my towel please?" Katsuki asks, sweat dripping down the side of his head, trailing down his neck, collar and chest before getting absorbed in his black tank top.

You throw him his towel, standing up from the bench. You lean forward, standing on your tippy toes to press your lips against his. The blond chuckles breathily, pouting a little, pressing his lips against yours.

Butterflies swarmed your tummy and you feel your heart skip a beat. This always happened whenever you kissed Katsuki. No matter how many times you've kissed him and no matter how long the both of you had been dating, he never failed to give you butterflies.

You feel someone step in front of you, snapping you out of your daze. You blink, looking up at the red head who's now taking his towel on his own.

"Ah, sorry babe. What were you saying?" You ask to which Eijirou shakes his head at. "It's okay, I got it." He wipes the sweat off his face, smiling brightly at you.

"Anyway, do you wanna go to that old ice cream parlor beside here? They don't have new flavors since like five years ago but I thought you might like a cone."

"I wanna go to that ice cream place beside the here." You pout, disregarding just how sweaty your boyfriend was as you wrap your arms around his waist, pulling him closer. "That's a bad habit, idiot. Stop pigging out right after hitting the gym." He laughs, flicking your forehead to which you knit your eyebrows at.

"Oh come on! They have a new flavor called 'blueberry cheesecake'! We should totally try it!" You whine, watching as your boyfriend packs his things in his gym bag. "You've eaten a blueberry cheesecake before, haven't you? Just imagine that but colder."

Despite what he said, he opens the door to the ice cream parlor for you. Sweat gone, the both of you had showered and changed your clothes before entering the cozy ice cream parlor.

The both of you sit by the window, looking out and enjoying the beautiful scenery of the mountains right behind the store.

You look back at your boyfriend who's sitting right in front of you, supposedly to tell him about the pretty bird you just saw, but stop once you saw how pretty he looked when he wasn't frowning or yelling.

Calm, softly smiling Katsuki Bakugou looking out and appreciating the beauty of nature. Your heart throbbed at the thought of how lucky you are to have him. Despite his harsh and loud nature towards others, he always gave off a different vibe when it came to you. He was much gentler, more careful with his choice of words and his actions.

His eyes flick towards you and he raises a brow. "Take a picture, it will last longer."

You smile, opening up your gallery to show off the many, many pictures you have of him stored in a secret album. You smile cheekily at him, "Already have a ton, thank you very much."

Katsuki smiles, chuckling as he shakes his head. "Idiot."

"Babe? You okay? You've been out of it since I asked you to hand me my towel, did I say something wrong?" You snap out of your daze once again, cursing at yourself. You look up at your boyfriend, smiling as you shake your head.

"I'm sorry, I think I need to head home and sleep. You have a meeting an hour from now, right? You should go." You press a kiss against Eijirou's cheek, smiling at him. "I'll wait for you at home."

You walk out of the gym, bag on your shoulder as you take a deep breath of fresh air in. You look up at the sky, frowning to see them all gray and cloudy. You begin walking down the road, looking around you.

The stores from before hadn't change at all. Especially-

"Ah! If it isn't my dear Y/n! Will you buy your usual caramel ice cream today too?" The old lady who runs the ice cream shop chirps at you, hands shaking as she grabs onto her cane to prevent herself from falling over.

"Granny! You know you can't be walking around, the doc said so!" Her granddaughter's voice is filled with concern as she places a hand below granny's elbow and on her back. She looks up at you, smiling apologetically.

"Sorry, I guess Alzheimer's also makes her forget she can't walk properly now?" She jokes, chuckling awkwardly. You smile, bowing your head.

You walk right past the ice cream parlor, oblivious to granny's pout to your declination of her invite. You stuff your hands in your pocket, looking up at the sky as you sigh. Before you know it, your gaze falls upon the top of your apartment building.

"I'm home! And guess what I got you!" You chirp, entering your apartment as you hold the white plastic bag full of food in your hand. The sound of quick padded footsteps make you giggle as you set the bag oncthe counter.

Katsuki appears right in front the kitchen, excited eyes and a wide grin across his face making you laugh. He quickly rummages through the contents of the bag, yelling in excitement as he pulls out a red ramen cup.

"Hell yeah, extra spicy!" He cheers, running over to you to pull you into a tight hug. "Thanks babe!" He presses multiple kisses on the top of your head before pulling away to start boiling his water.

"Hey! It's not even dinner time yet!" You jokingly frown, crossing your arms in front of your chest. You loved Seeing Katsuki like this; all bubbly and cheery and excited. Such a sweet and bright soul, you come to a conclusion that yes, you are definitely going to love this boy forever.

You walk right past the kitchen, body feeling heavy as you make your way inside your shared bedroom. You drop your bag onto the carpeted floors and find your legs leading you towards your walk-in closet.

You bend down, pulling out a locked box from underneath your hung clothes. You sit on the floor, pressing on the code to unlcok the box before pulling the lif open.

The contents inside caused your heart to clench.

Butterfly pins.

"Idiot, what are you doing?" Katsuki frowns, tilting his head up to look at you. Your brows knit together as you push his head back, forcing him to face front. "I'm making your hair pretty!" You huff, clipping on the butterfly pins onto his hair.

"My hair's already damn pretty even without the stupid hairpins!" He argues.

"Then I'm making it prettier so sit still!"

"Tsk," Katsuki rolls his eyes, "Then you better do an amazing job. Don't mess up, idiot."

"That'll be pretty hard to accomplish if you keep moving your darn head like that!"

"Hah?! What did you just say to me?!"

Sumigadawa Fireworks Festival Polaroid

"Quit tugging, idiot!" Katsuki yells but remains ignored as you push through the crowd. The fireworks display was going to start soon but you wanted to enjoy a Taiyaki as you watched the display.

You jump excitedly in place, still tugging at your boyfriend's sleeve as you pointed as the sweet snack. Katsuki sighs, pulling out his wallet. The both of you end up buying two pieces, one for each of you.

As you move to start going back to where the field was, Katsuki pulls you back. You lift a brow at him and he begin pulling you to the opposite direction, now it was him dragging you.

"Suki, where are we going? The fireworks display will start soon!" You yell through the loud crowd of people. "Tsk. I know, idiot. Just trust me!" He yells, as he continues pulling you towards a place with a bunch of trees. The two of you walk up a hil for quite some time and as you reached the top, you're panting and you can feel your back dampening at the sudden work out.

"What the heck are we-" The sound of fireworks cut you off. You immediately turn to your right, following the direction of the sound. Your eyes widen as a clear view of the fireworks explode in front of you.

As you stare up at the brightly colored night sky in awe, Katsuki smiles at your dumb face. The colors of the fireworks lit your face ever so beautifully. How did he get so lucky to have you?

Your hand grabs onto his arm as your other one points up at the sky, "Look! Look! That one's pretty!" You point at a pink one slowly disappearing into the night sky.

"Hah! Bet I can create better ones." Katsuki shows off.

"Oh really? Prove it."

And just like that, he opens his palm in front of you a small explosions are created, just like the fireworks. You smile, watching it was similar to watch a snow globe after shaking it.

As your eyes continue to watch Katsuki's mini fireworks, he oulls you out of your daze by cupping your cheek. You look up at him, raising your brows before smiling, leaning in.

His lips are soft, sweet and warm. You never want to part from them.

A Promise Ring.

/"Why won't you fucking listen to me?!" You yell from the top of your lungs, feeling them burn as your tears scortched your cheeks.

"There are already enough heroes out there! You don't need to go-"

"I need to, Y/n! God fucking dammit I need to! Because I'm a hero! Because it's my job, it's my duty to keep people safe. To risk my life keeping you all safe!" Katsuki yells back, slamming his suit case close as you stand there in front of him, weak and helpless.

"Izuku said your chances of surviving the war would be-"

"Baby, baby, look at me." Katsuki shushes, cupping your cheeks. He wipes your tears away as he looks into your eyes, red orbs looking back at you. Soft, gentle and hurt red orbs look back at you. "I'll be fine." He whispers.

You place your hands on top of his, closing your eyes as you let your tears fall, your lower lip shaking as you let out an unever breath. Katsuki presses his lips on your forehead, wrapping his arms around you.

"Take off your ring." He says, pulling away from the hug. You do as told, face still flushed as you haven't finished crying yet. With shaky hands, you take off your ring.

"Look inside it." Katsuki mutters.

You do as told, feeling your heart clench in your chest.

"What does it say?" He asks.

"Forever and always."

You sob on the floor, bringing your legs up to your chest as you recall the feeling of your world crushing the second you heard the news from Izuku.

Your body grew heavy as you fell to your knees, your tears streaming down your chest at his pained expression. He crouches down, placing a hand on your shoulder. You sobbed, and sobbed, and sobbed, so loud your throat hurt.

Katsuki was your world. He meant everything to you. Now that he was gone, what do you have left to lose?

"He promised me!" You yell from the top of your lungs, "He promised to call me as soon as he was done! Why didn't he call?! Why hasn't he called yet?!" Your head throbbed as Izuku's geip on your shoulder tightened.

It wasn't just you who had lost a loved one, him and all your other friends, too. You banged your fist against your chest as you sobbed heavily, finding it difficult to breath, to take in the information that Katsuki was gone.

"I told him! I told him not to go!" You yelled right at Izuku, holding onto his shoulders. "Katsuki! My Katsuki! He's gone!" The pain you felt is unbearable, it's something you can't understand, it's something you never want to experience again.

"You promised me, forever and always!" You yell from the top of your lungs. "Where are you now? Why aren't you beside me? Where's my forever with you?" You sobbed, your tears streaming down your cheeks uncontrollably.

As you cry out your frustrations and anguish in one room, Eijirou sits in another room, face wet with his tears as he blubbered in the memory of his best friend.

It's times like these that you agree to David Jones; life went on, but it was never the same again.

[sour--disposition]

Chaotically Unchaotic

-

harry lewis x fem!reader

-

please check my masterlist to see if requests are open

A tight, skimpy dress, dangerously high heels and more liquor than sense? Definitely sounds like a Sidemen night out.

You, Talia, Gee and Freya had walked into the club at least half an hour after the guys had told you to meet them there, if not later. What? Its not your fault that your eyelash just wouldn't stick in the corner and that one piece of Gee’s hair just wouldn’t hold its curl right. 

The guys were all congregated in or around a booth in a cordoned off section just behind the bar, because of course JJ had set something somewhat private up for the first big night out in what felt like years. You saw one of them lean over to the man in front of the velvety rope and point towards the four of you, presumably to make sure you were let through. And, as soon as you approached, he unhooked the rope and let you step through, each of you smiling and mouthing a small thank you to the man.

“It took you all long enough!”, Vik laughed loudly as you dispersed to mingle amongst the group. It earned him a half-hearted swat to the chest from Talia, resulting in Vik acting like he’d just tried to firm a punch from JJ.

You walked straight over to where Harry was sitting, sliding an arm over his shoulder and leaning down to drop a soft kiss to his cheek. “I’ve missed you, stranger”, you whispered, angling yourself to catch a quick peck on the lips.

“I hope you don’t treat all strangers this way”, he teased, shifting slightly so you could perch yourself on his lap. “I’d be very jealous, just saying”.

“Only the prettiest ones”, you replied, batting your eyelashes at him until he caved and let out that beautiful laugh of his. “I really have missed you, though”, you told him honestly, reaching forward to grab the cocktail that he’d bought you before you’d even arrived.

“I’ve missed you, too”, Harry said, resting his chin on the bare skin of your shoulder. “I was thinking maybe we don’t stay out all night, get home at a somewhat decent time, grab a pizza, watch some Blue Planet or something?”, he suggested, hand snaking round your waist to hold your thigh.

“Boggo and Y/N going home early!?”, Ethan asked incredulously from beside Harry. “That’s the most un-you thing I’ve ever heard!”, he snorted.

“Just because we have a little fun after a drink or three”, you scoffed, flicking your hand dismissively in Ethan’s direction.

“You and Harry are worse than Ethan and Harry, and that’s really saying something”, Simon laughed from the other side of the booth, everyone laughing and nodding along in agreement with him.

So, you and Harry had a small history of causing chaos on a night out. There were enough pictures of the two of you proudly posing with road signs you’d managed to dismantle or traffic cones you’d ran down the street with, and thats before you even delve into the album of videos of the two of you managing to create havoc just by walking home at 3am. Don’t even get Tobi started on how he found you and Harry in the middle of the road after one too many cocktails on a group get-away to who knows where, God knows when.

“They’re just jealous, imagine Talia and Simon running off to nab a traffic cone”, you snort, giggling as Talia lovingly rolls her eyes at you for what could be the hundredth time that night.

Harry started laughing before he’d even opened his mouth to speak. “Sorry, but just imagine Freya and Josh doing something like that”, he wheezed, causing both you and Ethan to join him in the hysterics.

It wasn’t long before people started trickling over to the bar and then to the dance floor. “C’mon. Let’s get a drink and dance!”, you urged Harry, as if it would take any convincing to get him to dance with you. You took his hand as he led you to the bar, paying for your drinks as you stayed safely nestled against his side, under his arm.

“Here you are, beautiful”, Harry smiled, handing you the cocktail glass. You thanked him with a kiss to the scruff on the underside of his jaw, followed by a soft nuzzle to the same spot with you nose. “What?”, he chuckled, nervousness clear in his voice as he reached up to scratch that one spot on his chest.

“Nothing”, you sighed happily, “I just like this stubbly stuff you’ve grown, it’s a good look on you”, you hummed into the skin of his jawbone. You felt Harry’s arm pull you even closer and his hand slip just a little lower, fingers brushing where your dress had slightly ruched over your bum. “Come dance with me”, you begged, hand wrapping around two of his fingers to tug, almost like an incessant child.

Harry downed the rest of his drink, which shouldn't have been half as attractive as it was, before following your lead to the dance floor. Before you’d even found a spot, you’d seen more than half of your friends dancing amongst the crowd, either with each other or a stranger they’d found on the dance floor. You heard Harry shout something over to Ethan who, once you’d glanced over to see, was all over a beautiful girl in a skin tight dress.

You felt the music just as much as you heard it, heavy bass resonating through your chest as Harry wrapped his arms around your waist and let his forehead drop forward to your shoulder, pressing a kiss there for good measure. With the drinks from Talia’s and the few from the bar working their way through your veins, you couldn't help but relish in every part of Harry that made contact with you. Tight hands on your hips, occasionally roaming up to your waist, head on your shoulder, chest pressed completely to your back... It was heaven.

You turned in his arms, grinning at him as his hands rested on your bum cheeks, squeezing tightly, even if just for a moment. Your arms came up and over his shoulders, one hand tangling into the messy pile of dirty blond hair that was just so Harry it almost hurt, the other holding onto his jaw as you reached up to kiss him properly for the first time that night.

His hand on your lower back pulled you impossibly closer, like he was scared you’d slip away as soon as his lips left yours. “I’ve missed you”, he whispered hotly into your mouth. You knew he was only being this confident because of the alcohol, you could taste it in his words and his kisses. He kissed you again, one hand moving up from your waist to hold your face, fingers slipping past your ear and into your hair to anchor you to him.

“Excuse me, we are in public!”, you heard Freya laugh near you. Harry groaned into your mouth, dropping his head between the two of you briefly before looking up to Freya and Josh. “Honestly, Y/N, if you aren’t running off with traffic equipment, you’re sucking face with baby Boggo on the dance floor!”, she chastised you with a grin.

“Excuse me, Miss Nightingale! I’m younger than Harry!”, you laughed, letting your head drop forward onto the front of Harry’s shoulder. “Do you want another drink?”, you asked him, already taking his hand to guide him back to the bar and the booth.

Maybe 2 hours and several drinks later, everyone was talking about moving onto somewhere else, as the crowd had significantly died down and last orders were about to be called. “Do you wanna?”, you asked Harry quietly.

“Not really, just wanna cuddle you”, he pouted, holding you tightly around the middle. “Me and Y/N are gonna take off if you guys are heading out”, Harry said over the group, earning a few funny looks from his friends. The both of you shrugged it off with a laugh as you got to saying your goodbye’s to everyone, dropping kisses onto the girls’ cheeks.

Harry led the two of you out of the club, arm wrapped protectively around you as lads with the same idea as the rest of your friends eyed you up. Once you were outside, he pulled out his phone. “Don’t bother, we’re like 5 minutes from yours, we’ll just walk”, you told him, wandering over to a wall to take your shoes off.

“Are you sure?”, Harry asked, clearly sobering up just a little in the fresh air.

“Positive”, you smiled brightly at him, holding your shoes in one hand and reaching out for his hand with the other.

You and Harry walked back to his apartment building with your hands swinging between the two of you. He told you about how the move into the new apartment had gone, and how he was missing Lux, and what he’d packed on FIFA the night before. You told him about your stream, and the new video you were working on to upload to your main channel, and the stupid content you’d found on your Reddit for a second channel video.

Harry opened the door to the apartment and you walked through to his room, dropping your shoes and already making to take your make up off. “Are you gonna join me for a shower?”, you asked him as you un-styled your hair. He nodded, toeing his shoes off and coming over to help you unzip your dress.

He washed your hair for you, careful not to make too many knots and he scrubbed the shampoo into your scalp. As you let the conditioner sit, you swapped positions and washed his hair, giggling as he moaned at your fingers running through his hair. He rinsed your hair, almost causing the both of you to fall as he leaned over to press a kiss to your lips, leaving you both a giggling mess in his shower. Harry picked up a cloth, holding one side of your head to keep his hand steady, and removed the tracks of make up that you’d missed and had melted off in the heat of the shower.

“Thank you”, you murmured, blushing when he replied with a kiss to the tip of your nose.

Harry bundled you up in a towel and attempted to wrap your hair into ‘the magic hair towel-ly thingy’, as he called it. You were still laughing at him as you made your way into the bedroom once you’d righted the towel on your head. “You sort yourself out and I’ll go order pizza? The normal, right?”, Harry suggested, already pulling some shorts on. You nodded, kissing him as you walked past to what had been your side of the bed for as long as you could remember.

As Harry ordered food, you towel dried your hair and tied it up, pulled on some underwear and slipped one of Harry’s shirts over your head. You couldn't help but smile as you got a whiff of freshly showered Harry from his top, clearly having only worn it this morning before getting ready to go out. That, mixed with the detergent that Harry religiously bought and the soft smell of what could only be described as ‘sleepy Harry’, made you feel right at home in a matter of seconds.

You could hear Harry talking to Cal as you walked out into the living room. “Hey, Cal”, you smiled, walking over to kitchen to make yourself a cup of tea. “Anyone want tea?”, you asked happily, turning around with your mug in your hand. “Harry? You okay?”.

Harry seemed frozen in place, eyes locked onto you. Worry filled you instantly. Had you done something wrong? “You just look really beautiful”, Harry smiled from the sofa, blushing when Cal scoffed and gagged, leaving the living room.

After pizza and a few episodes of Blue Planet in bed, you and Harry called it a night, knowing fine well that your friends probably weren’t even home yet. “I’m glad we left early”, you whispered into the small space between yours and Harry’s faces.

“Me too”, he sighed, and even though you couldn't see his smile in the dark of his room, you could hear it dancing over each of his words. “It was nice to just spend some time with you, I’ve missed you the last few days”, he murmured.

“I’ve missed you, too”, you said into the darkness, the two of you shuffling around so you could lay against his chest. “This is better than stealing a traffic cone, though”, you smiled against his bare skin.

And if you awoke the next day to the group chat filled with pictures of traffic cones that you and Harry could’ve run off with and Ethan complaining that the two of you were so chaotically unchaotic that it hurt his head more than his hangover did, well...

[yoshkeii]

Ushijima Wakatoshi hcs!

࿐ character: Ushijima Wakatoshi

࿐ genre: sfw, nsfw

࿐ requested by: a lovely supportive friend <3

⌦ sfw first, nsfw last

⌦ Nsfw includes, top-dom!ushijima, sub-bottom!reader. Continue at your own risk.

A/N: i simp for this man. i actually simp for a lot of characters its unbelievable. but this one. this man. yeah. again, kinda self-indulgent like my tsukii one- im sorry,,

══════ SFW ══════

★彡 Since we all know how Ushijima talks in the anime, he probably doesn't have the best social cues. When being in a relationship with him it might be difficult for him to break through that barrier of communication. He might say things along "will you teach me?", "was that good?", and stuff along those lines. So its your job to show him the ropes! It's a up and down hill path but Ushijima will do it to make the relationship last long and anything to see that little adorable smile on your face.

★彡 Honestly some nicknames he will have for you might derive from plants and nature. Such as "Honey(comb), Pumpkin, Sprout, Fern, Clover," but the classic nicknames that are normal to relationships would be "Babe/Baby, Prince, Love, Beautiful/Handsome," etc~ He likes to stick with the planty ones since he believes it fits someone smaller than him.

★彡 Will definitely take advantage of your size difference (depending on your height, yknow when yknow. i myself is like 5'3/5'4 so i feel the short pain.)

★彡 Like he will ruffle your hair which always ends up getting messed up, he will pick you so fucking easily like you weigh nothing to him, definite big spoon cause he always loves to wrap his arms arounds you since he noticed how safe it makes you feel, comparing and teasing about your hand sizes too is a common occurrence. Just his palm against yours. Sometimes you guys mess around with the flashlights on your phone to create hand-shadows and you always try to adjust your hand for your shadow to be Ushijima's size. He chuckles at the adorable attempt too.

★彡 Continuing on the size difference, he will let you sit on his lap as he watches you do whatever infront of him. No matter if its just scrolling through social media, watching videos, watching you play games, a movie, a video call? He's there. Sometimes will silently nuzzle his face into your hair, neck, shoulder or the crook between your shoulders. If he's feeling like it, he might also plant a surprise kiss on your neck or shoulder. It sends a quick jolt and shiver down your spine whenever he does because it's so unlikely-

★彡 OKAY BUT- the thought of jealous Ushijima would not be common thing knowing how calm and composed this man is, but he is also not good at describing nor showing emotions. But- Him catching you wearing someone else's jersey, hoodie, or jacket might flip that switch. He would just brush it off at first after awhile, before he slowly breaks. Giving you his own clothing in the end, which always ends up oversized based on how this dude is built. This would honestly be the only chance or time you will see this man be jealous its kinda scary- like- Ushijima are you okay honey?

★彡 Ushijima isn't the one to be into nicknames too much, but when you call him by the given nicknames you have for him... ohhhhhhh maaaaan its gives him butterflies. And generally he can't understand feelings too well so he wouldn't know how to deal with it and maybe overthink it- Please comfort him if it goes to far- He'll need it-

★彡 Like the Tendou chapter, you would most likely be closer to Tendou since Ushi and him are close anyways! You'll also have decent relationships with the team and maybe act like the motherly type to them to keep those boys in check. Goshiki may awkwardly talk to you to see if he needs to be in a relationship to be the new ace yada yada (lil baby looking up to your husbando though is cute-)

★彡 Ushijima may not be the best at social cues, but ohhh man this dude can be poetic as hell unintentionally. He has his ways of setting up words and his surprisingly sets of word choices astonish you at some point, and of course you get confuse sometimes- Understanding poems can be hard as hell okay??

★彡 When seeing you stressed or overwhelmed with any situation, he'll bring you into a hug for who knows how long. Just him seeing you like that devastates him, same goes for a single tear coming from your face will make this man go in his overprotective mode. He'll rub your back or head to calm you down, some specks of kisses along your face and maybe your arms too. He doesn't let his hand wander anywhere else when cuddling either so you are in safe hands with this man everytime he has his arms around you. They are just like safe warm walls bro.

★彡 He's the type who will keep attention on the smallest of details about you. He'll buy you small things like stickers, utensil, items, etc that you thought were cute when browsing or something. Ushijima likes to hear about your interests and thoughts because he loves to see you nerd out over passionate topics, and sometimes he'll just doze off and just stare at your face as you talk. Admiring you so fucking much, he's just softly smiling at you till you ask "what Toshi-?"

══════ NSFW ══════

★彡 Most of your passionate moments always start with kisses. They are usually or might as well always be slow, soft and passionate. He'll try his best to ask for consent in the most intimate or romantic way possible, with just a soft reply or the brush of his thumb on your bottom lip. Or he might aswell just stare at you till you say sumn-

★彡 He's not the type for PDA, since he personally thinks it should be behind doors and walls. So if you do anything that will.. yknow... flip a switch in this man. He'll try to keep composure n calmness till both of you are in a private spot, this man will kabedon or pin you against the wall and smother you with love n affection. At this point, he can't keep his hands to himself and often wanders which is unusual for him. So do things wisely or are you just a lover for punishment.

★彡 Some kinks this man will have: definite daddy/captain kink, degrading/praising (depends on his mood or how you are acting in the.. act-), extreme dirty talk, overstimulation maybe?, honestly can be into BDSM or sumn along the line, little bit of foreplay too.

★彡 You definitely know this man can get hella rough and strong while doing it. Which he of course uses it as an advantage because he's a fucking huge ass dom. Try to take control at least once, he'll do an uno reverse card on you and have you begging moments later. Even if you're on top, he still has control. He'll use his strong grip to pull you down or to make you move how he wants you too, His grip is so strong, it leaves nail marks in your hips n thighs that make you complain to him about it. But Ushijima just will look at you with no regret.

★彡 Ushijima uses his voice to his biggest advantage aswell. He knows he can rile you up with just a deep husk of his voice, especially when he speaks in your ear. His hot breath brushing against as he speaks sweet nothings to demanding whispers only you can hear. It just makes you melt and submit to him like magic, and he adores that to the max. He'll also might bite your ear as a tease too-

★彡 He's very demanding in bed. Ordering you around. Him being a very serious person outside of the room follows him into the bed.

★彡 Favorite place to do it? Just in the private walls of eachother's home or dorms.

★彡 Favorite position? He has a few selected one, but him carrying you will messing your insides up against a wall... yeah that one.

★彡 He loves, loves seeing your face during the act. He'll just stares at you with a cocky smirk (no pun intended) as he continues.

★彡 Ushijima may be rough, but he's a king at aftercare. He loves to treat you so well after the act with cuddles, kisses, a possible bath or shower, massages. Anything to calm you down. Usually its just cuddles, seeing you ontop of his chest practically about to fall asleep. Knowing you are listening to his heartbeat and breathing, its a beautiful sight to him. If you are cuddling on your side, he'll softly pat your head and rub your back as you dose off to sleep before he falls asleep himself afterwards.

★彡 Motivation can vary, but he loves seeing you wear anything that shows your bare legs. Especially those thighs. Yes another thigh man. Just some high-thigh socks, tights, fitted sweatpants, anything that shows your curves n legs gets him rearing to go.

[suna-reversed]

HQ boys as Taylor Swift songs-folklore

characters- Oikawa (exile), Atsumu (my tears ricochet), Meian (illicit affairs)

tags/warnings- ANGST, breakup, heartbreak, cheating, mentions of alcohol, manipulative behaviour, fluff in Meian’s if you squint

suggestions for pt2 would be appreciated (currently thinking of cardigan with Bokuto and hoax with Tsukishima)

Oikawa

“I can see you standin', honey

With his arms around your body

Laughin' but the joke's not funny at all”

He had told himself over and over again to not look; in the flight, in the ride to the hotel, even as he passed the entrance gates of the exquisite banquet hall where the reunion was being held. All he had to do was keep his eyes away. 

But you were here, and he had never been good at withstanding the cosmic pull you always held. Even if you were in the arms of another, laughing like you always used to, with him. 

I think I've seen this film before

And I didn't like the ending

“What changed, Tooru?” Your eyes were red and puffy, you had exhausted all your tears while he simply stood in the corner and watched. 

“This isn’t going to work out y/n. We’re both miles away, with different lives, in different time zones, around different people; we can’t have a relationship built on nothi-” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose,  “...I’m saving both of us from the pain that would come with splitting a few years down the line.” 

“Do you still love me?”

Oikawa was familiar with the grief that came with loss; the grief of giving something every single bit of your soul, only to come out empty-handed and wounded. 

“Go back home, y/n.”

You're not my homeland anymore

So what am I defendin' now?

You were my town

Now I'm in exile seein' you out

Perhaps he had damned himself to ruination. Given up without a fight. But that didn’t matter now. 

You look ethereal, with stars in your eyes and glee in your smile. It doesn’t matter if he’s not the one behind it. You would have been a shell of who you are right now if you had stayed with him anyways. 

He turns around, heading for exit.

Just one last time. He promises himself. His lips curve upwards into a bittersweet smile as he turns around to get his last look. Instead, he finds himself staring into the expanse of an entire galaxy. A cosmic explosion coming his way as the floor shifts from beneath him. 

No, you definitely don’t sound the same.

How long has it been since he heard that voice?

“Not even gonna say goodbye before you leave Oikawa?”

What happened to your precious “Tooru”?

Atsumu

Even on my worst day, did I deserve, babe

All the hell you gave me?

The clock reads 01:27 am. You’ve been sitting on the couch for the past 3 hours, the untouched dinner on the table gone cold long ago. You hear the sound of a door slamming shut, hushed footsteps making their way towards the center of the apartment, coming to a halt at the sight of you.

“Why are you still awake?” 

“You promised we’d have dinner together tonight.”

“Listen, it got late at practice, you could’ve just eaten without me.”

“You could’ve at least dropped a text.” You murmur, trying to keep your voice from breaking. This wasn’t the first time he had stood you up.

“It’s not that big of a deal y/n. You realise how important the upcoming match is to me, don’t you?” He sighs, shaking his head in disappointment, “Let’s just go to bed okay, I’m tired.” 

“Okay.” You mutter, loosening your grip on the 2 year anniversary gift hidden below the couch cushion. A platinum ring with yours and Atsumu’s initials carved on the inside.  

You wear the same jewels that I gave you

As you bury me

Atsumu’s vision is blurry, shirt drenched in sweat, his head pounding as he’s pushed against the wall. He doesn’t know whether it’s from the screaming match he just had with you, or from the two bottles he chugged at a shady bar right after he walked out. 

All that matters right now is the feeling of the hands of the girl that’s kissing his jaw. The same spot where you had pressed a chaste kiss not too long ago as you told him that you were going to leave- 

No, he’s not going to think about it. All that matters is the touch of skin against skin, filling in the void you caused as he kneads the supple flesh of her thigh with his hand. The same hand that bore a platinum ring, the letters engraved inside of it now fatuous and futile. 

You had to kill me, but it killed you just the same

Cursing my name, wishing I stayed

You turned into your worst fears

No, no, no. 

Why are you here?

Why are you back?

“I had hoped we could talk-” You take a deep breath, feet stuck in place as you lay your eyes upon the marks littering his jaw, his neck, going much farther down-

A sob comes out from deep inside your chest. 

No, no, no. 

He’s looking at you, your crestfallen face, tears falling off of it like british showers. 

He’s acting before he can think, falling to his knees, grabbing onto your waist as you try to walk out. 

“No! Angel, please just let me explain. I thought you were never coming back- I would've never-”

“Never what Atsumu?!” Your voice is louder than you expected it to be. 

“Never what? A single fight is all it takes for you to discard everything we ever had? For you to step over everything I put into a relationship that has barely even existed for so long!” 

He’s never heard you shout before. But it's okay, it’s okay if you shout at him, if you break a few things, hell you can wreck his whole apartment if it means that you’re staying for even just a moment longer. 

But you’re not. You’re pushing him away, movements stern, as you try to make your way to the door. All he can do is cling onto you, crying your name over and over again as he racks his brain for a way to make you stay. 

Why was it always you who knew what to say when it came to fixing things?

Meian 

Make sure nobody sees you leave

Hood over your head

Keep your eyes down

Tell your friends you're out for a run

You'll be flushed when you return

You knew there were aspects of his life he had no control over. After all, he was watched by thousands of eyes everyday; the star player, the golden boy; the captain of MSBY. So how does it matter if you had to go a mile extra to hide what you had?

You loved who he was as a person and how he made you feel. Good-morning and goodnight texts, warm cuddles after matches, dancing in the kitchen to songs you don’t know the name of, late night drives to get takeout or go stargazing, laughing till you were on the floor crying. You loved him so much.

And that's the thing about illicit affairs

And clandestine meetings

And stolen stares

They show their truth one single time

But they lie, and they lie, and they lie

A billion little times

“Volleyball player Meian Shugo spotted with a blonde beauty at the MSBY vs Adlers afterparty. Could she be his rumoured girlfriend that we’ve been kept in the dark about all along? Read more for exclusive deta-”

You can’t shed a single tear staring at the cover of the magazine. Not because your heart hasn't just been ripped out of your chest, but because you’re in public, standing in line at the grocery store picking up snacks for you and...Meian. 

Why did you not see this coming? What hurt more was that you knew the girl. Meian had introduced you to her as a friend, and her as his social media manager. So this was clearly a misunderstanding right? It had to be. Despite telling yourself that over and over again, you still couldn’t get the picture of his arm wrapped around her waist and the smile etched onto his face out of your mind as you drove home, tears blurring your vision.

Don't call me kid

Don't call me baby

Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me

“Baby please listen to me-”

You’re sitting on the edge of the couch. You don’t know how long ago you stopped screaming, how long ago the anger dissipated and the rage turned into silent sobs, leaving behind a gaping hollow feeling in your chest. 

You feel him shift closer to you but you don’t at him, still sniffing, your head buried in your arms. 

“She was at the party because she’s our manager, you know Jessi-”

“Don’t say her name.” you hiss out. 

“I wish I never met you, I wish I never got into this stupid arrangement. I wish-” You’re rambling now, sobs escaping between every few words as you try to comprehend the situation, “I hate this. I hate you.” 

Heavy silence hangs in the room. 

And you know damn well

For you I would ruin myself

A million little times

You find arms being wrapped around you and your head being pulled into a warm chest. You try to fight at first, but you’re tired; your throat hurts, your eyes burn and everything feels so cold, so you let yourself guiltily fall into his comfort, pathetically sobbing into his neck.

He patiently waits for your sobs to quiet down, one hand rubbing gentle circles onto your back while the other cradles the back of your head.

“She was at the party with the whole team and the publicist used it as a way to create gossip. That’s all there is to it. I had not given my consent for them to go ahead with this, but they refused to make our relationship public. Apparently, they didn’t think that the age gap between us would reflect well on my reputation.” 

Meian’s heart breaks at the sound that leaves you as he says that, your hand gripping onto the fabric of his shirt as you start sniffing once more. 

“I don’t care about what they say princess, you know that.” He kisses the top of your head, pulling you even closer to himself as if he could absorb the pain from you. 

“I’m so sorry, give me another chance please. I didn’t tell you because I knew it’d hurt you. I promise I’ll make it up to you, please?” 

You look up at him. His eyes are filled with tender love and pure adoration, it makes your heart melt. You nod, burying your face into the crook of his neck. Of course you would, he's your precious Meian, you’d always forgive him. Why did you ever think he’d do anything to hurt you?

Meian smiles into your hair, ignoring the sound of the notification popping up on the phone kept on the table, 

Jessica: hey, we're still on for tonight right ? ;)

[bopbopstyles]

Residue

RATING: R/smut (cw: emotional and mild physical abuse mentioned) 

WORD COUNT: 8.5k eek

CATEGORIES: friends to lovers, camping!harry (?), sleeping in the same bed

NOTE: this is for the Sex Bucket List Fic Challenge from @berrynarrybanana​ - prompt was in a tent while camping with friends....and then I just kind of created this mess. check out the other fics and the amazing creators!!!!

I ENDED UP WRITING A PT.2! Read Endlessly here.

pls reblog and share with your friends 💕

“When are you going to tell Y/N?”

Harry looked down at his feet. His boots were scuffed from walking through the rocky terrain to the lake earlier when they’d gone swimming. The image of you in her bikini flashed through his mind, and he restrained from groaning--he’d known you for years, swam with you for years, and yet seeing you in that bikini still did things to him, no matter how much he tried to tell himself you didn’t feel the same way about him. “She doesn’t feel the same way.”

Mitch let out a heavy sigh and stood up. “You can be so fucking daft sometimes, you know.”

“Y/N tells me all the time.”

“Well, she’s right,” he replied. “Tell her how you feel, Harry. She feels the same way.”

Harry looked up and met his friend’s eyes. “How do you know?”

“I can see it in how she looks at you. You’re blind if you don’t see it too.”

Harry paused. “How…”

“It’s the same way you look at her.”

or 

Harry and Y/N go camping with their friends and the fact that they’ve been in love with each other comes out

The drive out to the country was peaceful. Harry put on a podcast about music on the way and you listened as they analyzed Beyoncé’s Lemonade, pausing it occasionally to ask Harry questions about the technical parts. With the sunshine and Harry’s commentary once the podcast episode ended, the drive to the campgrounds in West Sussex passed quickly. 

Harry had booked your camp site last weekend, their trip a last-minute decision. You, Mitch, Sarah, and Nick had all been at Harry’s for a cookout and he’d mentioned wanting to get out in nature before the tour started, and Mitch threw out going camping. Nick took some convincing, but eventually he agreed. You and Nick had managed to get the time off from work, although Nick had to head back a day earlier, and it was settled. You had all left the particulars to Harry and when he texted a link to the campground in their group chat, you had fallen in love. Wooded, no power, cooking over an open fire--it reminded you of camping with your family when you were young. 

“Excited?” You asked Harry when you pulled into the parking lot at the front office. You threw the car in park and turned off the ignition, looking over at your best friend. 

He grinned back at you, eyes gleaming. You knew he’d been looking forward to this ever since you had first talked about it--he’d been calling you every day to go over the plans and picking out their meals for the weekend. “Psyched.”

You both climbed out of your car, stretching from the drive, and you inhaled the sweet smell of English oak trees, the sound of birds chirping making you smile as widely as Harry. Nick, Sarah, and Mitch were waiting by their cars, and Nick seemed to be animatedly telling a story about who knows what. 

“Is Nick being annoying?” You asked, throwing your arm around Nick’s shoulders and ruffling his hair. 

“He’s telling the story about the Brits. Again,” Sarah said, reaching out to hug you. “Save us, please.”

“Oi, you’re being mean.” Nick said and Sarah just laughed and shook her head. 

Mitch gave you a quick hug and you smiled at him--they’d all been working a lot lately in preparation for the tour. You had barely seen him, Sarah, and Harry, and you missed their presences more than you had realized. “Let’s go see what Harry got us,” you said.

“Spoiled you lot rotten,” Harry said, sliding a pair of sunglasses onto his nose. 

“I’d hoped so,” you replied, and Harry chuckled softly before leading the group inside the office. 

“Reservation for Y/N,” Harry said to the receptionist and you looked at him in confusion. “Didn’t want anyone finding us,” he explained and you nodded immediately in understanding. After years of friendship, you were used to it, though it always tugged on your heart. You wanted, more than anything, for him to be able to be normal at some point. You knew he craved it too--anonymity. 

The receptionist clicked some buttons on her computer before pulling some folders out of a drawer and turning back to you all. “I’ve got three yurts reserved for you all--is that correct?”

Harry’s eyebrows crinkled in confusion. “I had requested four over the phone.”

The receptionist--Martha, according to her badge, frowned. “Oh, I’m so sorry about that. Unfortunately, though, we’re all booked up this weekend. Is there any way three could be made to work?”

That meant someone was going to have to share. Harry looked at you, and then at Nick. “Nick, you good to bunk, mate?”

Nick groaned and you rolled your eyes at him. “Fine, but if you kick me in your sleep I’ll lock you out.”

“I don’t think they have doors, Nick,” you told him.

He looked at you and grimaced. “Zip him out then.”

“How threatening,” Harry said, before looking back to the receptionist. “That’ll be fine.” She nodded and explained the rest of the check-in and check-out policies and the amenities on the site. It seemed perfect--a pub not too far from the grounds, camp fires you was most definitely going to take advantage of, and actual showers. He truly was spoiling you all. 

You walked back to the car with Harry to drive to their yurts, swinging your keys around your finger in thought. “H,” you said when you sat down in the driver’s seat.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for bunking with Nick. I know you like your own space, so I appreciate it.”

He gave you a wide smile and you couldn’t help it--it warmed every part of you. It was moments like these you struggled to remember that Harry was just your friend. Nothing more. You’d dated people, he’d dated people, and you two were just friends. But then he’d look at you like this and you wanted more. “‘Course, love.” He reached across the console and gave your hand a quick squeeze, and your heart flopped in your chest. 

You were starved for touch--it’d been months since you broke up with your asshole of an ex and you were desperate to be touched, even if it was someone holding your hand. Usually you could count on Harry for some cuddles and tight hugs, but he’d been so busy practicing for tour that you hadn’t seen him much. Just FaceTime and the occasional meet-up at the café by your office on your lunch break and it seemed to be showing. 

You started the engine and prayed to the Gods that they would help you get through this weekend in one piece. 

The yurts were in a quiet part of the campground, secluded and in a thicket of trees. All you could hear was the sound of wind whistling through the leaves and the chirping of birds. After living in London for the past two years and barely leaving, it was a relief to be able to hear nothing but nature. 

Nick let out a whoop when he opened the door to his car. “God, this is gorgeous, isn’t it?” Sarah and Mitch pulled up a second later and you all wandered around the campground, deciding where you would put your chairs (around the campfire, obviously) and what you wanted to eat for dinner. Then, you started to unpack. You claimed the tent closer to the woods, wanting not to be awoken in the middle of the night if cars drove by and to get away from the group if you went to bed early, something that you had a tendency towards when Nick and Harry were together. 

The sound of the yurt being zipped open caused you to look up from where you were checking to see if there were bed bugs. After getting them when you were 13 on a family trip, you always checked. “This going to be okay for you?” Harry stood hunched over, his head poking into your yurt. His shirt was unbuttoned, the beige linen flowing in the soft breeze, and his hair flopped into his face. His green eyes were gleaming, a look he only got on break or on holiday, and it was your favorite look on him. He looked just unperturbed and blissfully happy. 

“Come in, silly,” you said, turning around and flopping down onto the bed. “It’s perfect, H.”

Harry grinned and dropped down next to you. “Comfy, eh?”

“Very.”

“I should plan every holiday at this rate.”

You whacked him with the pillow. The last holiday you had planned and the hotel had ended up being bad and their reservation for their yacht trip fully did not exist when they showed up. It was a disaster and Harry had yet to let you live it down. “Now you’re just fishing for compliments.”

“What? I like planning!”

“And you like being complimented.”

Harry huffed and you just smiled at him. After knowing one another for years, not only did you know everything important about Harry, you also knew how to push his buttons. Calling him out for what you had longed believed to be some kind of praise kink (you’d asked him about if while drunk and he’d looked so confused and embarrassed you dropped it) was the number one way to get him riled up. 

“How’s your tent with Grimmy?”

“He’s already asleep.”

“It’s noon.”

“Apparently he didn’t sleep last night.”

You laughed because it was classic Nick. It happened on almost every holiday you went on together, of which there had been a few. He’d get to wherever you were staying and immediately fall asleep for usually the rest of the day. You all usually just left him where he was and went about your business, but he also usually had his own room. “Were you able to put your stuff down at least?”

Harry shrugged. “Just dropped my suitcase on the ground and left him. I’ll wake him up eventually.” He turned his head and looked at you, his head so close that if you turned your head up ever so slightly, you could probably kiss him. 

“Fancy a swim?” You asked him, sitting up suddenly and trying to push the thought away. 

“Fuck yes,” he replied. “Let me change into my suit.”

The sun was out in full force when you jumped into the lake, your towels and clothes abandoned on the edge of the water. You were lying on your back, eyes closed, basking in the feeling of sun on your skin. Mitch and Sarah were swimming around--you could hear them chattering about how Sarah wanted a dog and Mitch wasn’t into the idea--but you didn’t know where Harry was. You couldn’t hear him. Maybe he’d swam a little further away?

You pushed the thoughts from your mind and focused on not thinking about anything, which somehow took a significant amount of effort. Work kept trying to drift into your head--had the office finished the pitch that you had left for them on Thursday? It was a big account and you had put your all into it, but you hadn’t finished the final touches on Thursday before you had to leave the office, so you left it for your coworkers to wrap up on your behalf. Hopefully they didn’t half-ass it. 

Suddenly, fingers wrapped around your waist and you were being flipped onto your stomach, water immediately filling your nose and mouth. You snapped up, water flicking from the ends of your hair, and blinked the droplets away so you could see who had done it. 

Harry. 

“You bastard!” You screeched, shoving him. His skin was slick from the sunscreen and water, and you tried not to focus on the feeling of his arm muscles under your palms. “I could’ve drowned!”

“You were a competitive swimmer, Y/N,” he reminded you, chuckling. “You weren’t going to drown.”

You sputtered, slicking your hair back, and then gave him a death stare. “Still. You’re an ass.”

“That’s not news,” Sarah piped up from where she and Mitch were treading water and laughing at what had just happened. 

“This is true.” You gave Harry another look before shoving a wave of water in his direction, splashing water into his face. 

Harry gasped, wiping water from his face, his hair, which had grown longer in the past few weeks while he’d been on break, sticking to his forehead. He looked like a little kid, despite how muscular he’d become in the past year or so. You tried to not linger on it, but when he was in front of you without a shirt on, sun-kissed skin just begging to be looked it, it was quite difficult. “This is war.”

He shoved water at you, and suddenly you were splashing one another like children, both of you screeching as water got into your eyes. Your feet collided underwater, arms hitting each other as you twirled around each other in the water, trying to surprise one another. 

It was all fun and games until Harry’s hand reached out and accidentally hit you right in the boob.

“Harry!” You called out, swatting him. “You just hit me in the boob.”

“Fuck, sorry,” he said. “You okay?”

“Just sore,” you said, swimming a bit farther away from him. “Meanie.”

Harry gave you his puppy dog eyes, lashes blinking at you, plump lips sticking out ever so slightly. You hated when he did this because you always fell for it. Years of friendship and you still couldn’t hold anything against him when he did this because he just looked so goddamn gorgeous. You hated it. “Sorry?”

“Fine,” you said, “but you’re carrying me the whole way back to the campsite.”

You all ended up grilling burgers over the fire, Harry surprising you with some hidden skills over the open fire, and together the four of you drank beers as the fire glowed between them. Nick had never surfaced and Harry didn’t have it in him to wake him, so he let him be. Harry, Sarah, and Mitch had started playing music after dinner and you kept yourself entertained by requesting old One Direction songs, which made Harry stare daggers at you but amused you, Sarah, and Mitch to no end.

It was a chilly summer night and you were cuddled up in a sweatshirt of Harry’s, having forgotten yours at home, and a pair of leggings. You could feel your eyes drooping, your entire concept of time gone without the ability to check your phone. It could’ve been 9pm for all you knew. After a rendition of Landslide, you yawned and stretched your arms above your head, and decided to call it a night. 

“I’m going to turn in,” you said, standing up from the chair you’d been in for the past few hours. “Which way’s the bathrooms?” 

Sarah pointed to the right, and you nodded. You had to brush your teeth and pee before you could go to sleep, and you had no desire to traipse through the woods at night to pee in the brush, so you started off in the direction of the bathrooms, your toiletries bag tucked under your arm.

“Wait!” You turned to see Harry walking after you, his own bag tucked under his arm. “Didn’t want you to walk alone.”

You gave him a sweet smile and waited for him to catch up with you. “You ready for sleep too?”

He shrugged. “Probably be up for a little while longer, if that’s not too disruptive? Mitch and I thought we’d work on a song I’ve been thinking about. Thought I’d go ahead and brush my teeth, though.”

“I like listening to you play as I go to bed,” you said, the words leaving your mouth before you thought about them. 

Harry’s eyebrows knit together and he studied you. “Never told me that before.”

Probably because it’s embarrassing, you thought to yourself. You loved listening to his music before you went to bed, especially the voice memos he’d sent you over the years of bits of songs he was working on before they were fully mastered. They were more raw, less produced, the stripped down Harry that you loved. “You never asked.”

He filed that information away for later and you climbed the steps to the bathrooms, both heading into the same free stall. You’d stopped caring about peeing in front of one another a long time ago. You went first, listening to Harry prattle on about a book he was reading that he thought you’d like as he washed his face. When you finished up, you switched places and you started brushing your teeth, stealing his toothpaste because it tasted nicer. 

“You should just buy some for yourself,” he commented.

“But I can use yours for free.”

He didn’t reply, just let you be, and you brushed your teeth next to one another, Harry knocking his hip against yours to make you smile. 

“Glad you came,” he told you when you exited the bathrooms. 

“Me too. Needed this, I think.”

“Same. Missed you, too.” 

You studied his face, barely visible in the moonlight. His stubble was growing in, but he had a peaceful expression you rarely saw in him. You saw it in moments on tour, sometimes--when you were cuddled up on his sofa watching a film after a show, or after a morning run on a day off. But here, this was the purest form and one you wished you saw more often. You didn’t tell him, though. You’d had that conversation before--how you were worried he was overworking himself, believing that he was able to work so much after years in 1D, working with barely any breaks. You wanted his solo career to be different, but Harry had a tendency to find work even when he wasn’t touring or recording. He loved it so much that it was all he wanted to do. “Missed you too,” you replied simply, and leaned into him when he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. 

Mitch set down his guitar and looked at Harry across the fire from him.

“What?”

“When are you going to tell Y/N?”

Harry looked down at his feet. His boots were scuffed from walking through the rocky terrain to the lake earlier when they’d gone swimming. The image of you in her bikini flashed through his mind, and he restrained from groaning--he’d known you for years, swam with you for years, and yet seeing you in that bikini still did things to him, no matter how much he tried to tell himself you didn’t feel the same way about him. “She doesn’t feel the same way.”

Mitch let out a heavy sigh and stood up. “You can be so fucking daft sometimes, you know.”

“Y/N tells me all the time.”

“Well, she’s right,” he replied. “Tell her how you feel, Harry. She feels the same way.”

Harry looked up and met his friend’s eyes. “How do you know?”

“I can see it in how she looks at you. You’re blind if you don’t see it too.”

Harry paused. “How…”

“It’s the same way you look at her.”

With that, Mitch turned and went to where Sarah waited for him in their yurt, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts. It was quiet, aside from the crinkle of the fire. Harry couldn’t remember when he fell in love with Y/N--there wasn’t some specific moment like they say in the books. It just...happened. The more time he spent with you, the closer you got, the more Harry hated leaving you. And when you dated other guys, it made his stomach turn to be around them. He tried to pretend like it didn’t, he tried to be nice and polite as you were to the girls he tried to date, but he knew he never was. He hated the way you would look at him when he’d make some snide remark, and he could feel the disappointment radiating from your stare. And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to let you go.

He’d tried to bury himself in work, in touring, in women. He’d lived in LA for months to try and get over you, he’d even dated Kendall fucking Jenner to try and get over you. Nothing helped. Camille had been the closest he’d gotten, but there had always been something holding him back. When he’d found out she cheated on him, it was a relief more than heartbreak--he didn’t have to be the one to break up with her this time. And he always went back to you, pretending to be more broken hearted than he was just to get you to spend days on end by his side, eating ice cream and watching films that you thought helped him. In actuality, it was you who helped him. It was being by your side, it was laughing with you, going on walks, even fucking gardening with you at his house in Hampstead. Anything with you healed him. 

And he knew it wasn’t fair, using you like he did. But he couldn’t help himself--it was the time when he could almost pretend you were his. It was when you ignored everything else and focused on only him and that attention is what he craved. You, together, no distractions. It’s what he wanted this weekend to be, but then you suggested inviting friends, and how could he say no to you? How could he tell you he just wanted to be with you for the whole weekend, the rest of the world forgotten?

Mitch’s words, though, were a stab in his heart. He’d always convinced himself that there was no way you could feel the same. You had fallen in love, you’d told him. With Tom. Bloody Tom. You’d met at some networking dinner and he’d asked you out, and from then on it was Tom, Tom, Tom. You had dated for a little over a year and Harry despised every second of it. Tom treated you like dirt--belittling you in front of your friends, in front of Harry, even, controlled your time and your friends. Boxed you in like you were some animal just there to please him, no life to speak of. It had happened while Harry was on tour and then in LA, so he hadn’t been there in person for most of it, and when he had been around you two together--whe he came home for the holidays and saw you, you had played it off. Said it was nothing, just a joke. 

But then her college roommate Jordan had called Harry, worried out of her mind about you. Told him how Tom treated you, all the things he’d done, how he’d manipulated you--hit you one time. Jordan was in New York City and work wouldn’t let her leave, but she knew Harry could go. She told him it was getting bad and he had to get you out. And so he did. He took the next flight out, barely packed a suitcase, and went. He went to your apartment and told you that Jordan had told him what happened, and you two had a massive fight over it, you defending Tom, Harry trying to convince you he had manipulated your thoughts, your emotions, your feelings, and you both ended up in tears before you finally let him take you to his house to stay for a few weeks. And together, you’d pieced his fierce Y/N back together. 

And all that time, he had never thought...He never thought you’d loved him. Not as he did, at least. You’d told him so many times that you loved him, but it was just as a friend. You’d made that clear in the ways you touched him and introduced him to people. He was your Harry, but just your friend. Your best friend, but friend all the same. It broke him, as much as he tried not to let it show. But for you to feel the same way? All this time?

And what did Mitch expect him to do? Bust into your tent and admit his undying love for you, you to admit you felt the same way, and for you to ride off into the night together? This wasn’t some romance novel (which Harrry knew Mitch read, even though he tried to hide them). This was reality, and in reality, it was just Harry, writing songs about you that you’d never understand the true meaning of, and a yurt shared with Grimmy. 

He stood up, his guitar held tightly in his hand, and put out the fire before heading into the yurt. Nick was spread eagle on the bed, still somehow asleep--Harry had never understood his ability to sleep literally all day--and snoring. Loudly. Harry sighed and went over to his suitcase, tugging off his jeans and sweatshirt and folding them neatly into the case. He pulled a henley and pajama pants on, knowing if Nick woke up to a half naked Harry in his bed he’d most definitely not let him hear the end of it, and walked over to the bed. He tried to shove Nick over and make space for himself, but the man was most definitely stronger than Harry had realized. 

Had he been working out lately?

Harry gave his arm another shove, but Nick didn’t even flinch. “Fuck you, Nick,” Harry said. “Do you have to seriously sleep like the dead?”

He looked around the room, trying to see if there was anything he could fashion a makeshift bed with. But there wasn’t even a spare fucking blanket. 

Maybe Sarah and Mitch would have one? Then he pictured walking into the couple’s yurt and immediately decided against that idea. That left you. You’d slept in the same bed before, albeit usually while drunk--maybe you’d let him sleep with you? Just for the night? 

Harry slipped on his flip flops, grabbed his flashlight and made his way over to your yurt. It was quiet except for the sound of your soft breathing and he immediately felt at peace, despite what his mind told him. He unzipped the front of your yurt and stuck his head in. It was dark and he could barely make out your figure, curled up tightly under the covers, hair strewn across the pillow. 

“Y/N?”

After a beat, he saw your body shift and your head stick up from the pillow. “Harry?”

“Can I sleep with you? Nick’s taking up the whole bed and snoring like a train.”

You giggled--and Harry’s heart started racing--and then said, “Of course. C’mere.” You lifted the edge of the blanket and Harry toed off his flip flops before walking over to the bed. “What time is it?”

He laid down next to you carefully, not wanting to brush up against you and make you uncomfortable. “Dunno. Late.”

You reached out for him, fingers brushing against his henley right over his stomach, and Harry’s heart seized. Did you know what you were doing to him right now? “Why are you lying there straight as a rod? I don’t bite, you know.” Probably not, he realized. You had no idea what the mere touch of your skin did to his heart. 

“Don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he said, his voice quiet in the silence of the yurt. 

“You don’t, silly. Now c’mere.” 

He moved closer to you and you turned onto your side so that your back rested against his chest, and he wound his arm around your stomach loosely, holding you to him. You’d laid like this before, after your birthday earlier in the year when you’d gotten quite drunk and he’d brought you home so you didn’t choke in your own vomit. You’d snuggled into him then, just like you did now, and he tried to think of anything to get his dick to stop from plumping up under his pants. 

“H?”

“Yeah?”

“What was your song about?”

His breath caught in his throat. Had you heard it? It was so obviously about you, so unabashedly telling you how he felt. God, every song was about you. Even when he tried to make them less specific, when he tried to remove the details that would make it about you, you still left a residue. 

“Harry?” Your voice broke his thoughts, so sweet in his ears. He opened his eyes, which had closed while he thought, and looked into your hair. He could smell the remnants of your perfume mixed with the fresh smell of oak from the woods and the essence of smoke from the fire. He wanted to bury himself in your smell, in you. 

He should tell you. He knew he should. It was the perfect time--you were giving him the prompting. But he didn’t have the courage. “Did we wake you up?”

You rolled over and suddenly your face was mere inches from his. He could see your eyes in the dark, bright blue in the night. The ones that were painted in his dreams, echoes of you that never let him go. “Thought I heard something in the woods. Heard you instead.”

How much had you heard, he wondered. Had you heard his conversation with Mitch? You had been asleep when he had come into the yurt, so you had to have fallen back asleep. “What’d you think of it?”

You stared at him, your gaze searing through the protections he tried and struggled to keep up. “It was sad,” you said simply. 

“Hmm?” He mumbled, not really knowing what else to say to that. Of course it was sad, he was in love with his best friend and he didn’t have the balls to tell her. 

“The opening lines,” you whispered. “Put a price on emotion/I'm looking for something to buy/You've got my devotion/But man, I can hate you sometimes,” you sang it, perfectly in tune, hitting every note as he had around the campfire with Mitch. Your voice singing his words broke him in two, for some reason. They were the most honest ones of the whole song, he thought to himself, and the ones he was least likely to change. “Who is it about?”

Her question had changed. When you asked the first time, it was what. Now it was who. He studied you in the dark, searching himself. Could he muster the courage?

“Camille?”

“No,” he said, his words immediate. “No, not Camille.”

There was a rustle of the trees, but your eyes didn’t leave his. “Are you seeing someone new?”

“No.”

“Then who?”

He took a deep breath, and then, he pulled the words from the depths of his heart. “It’s about you.”

It was silent in the yurt. He couldn’t even tell if you were breathing. But your eyes didn’t leave his. He watched as your brain processed his words, pieced them together, matched them up with the song. 

“Test of my patience/There's things that we'll never know/You sunshine, you temptress/My hand's at risk, I fold.” You said the words, no song to them, just words, flowing from your lips as poetry, not lyrics. “You...Me. Things we’ll never know--that’s us?” 

He nodded, resisting the urge to reach out and brush a strand of hair behind your ear that had come loose. 

“You've got my devotion,” you whispered, the opening lines coming back around. “That’s about me?”

“Yes,” he said, the word simple, soft, quiet in the dark. But it took every ounce of his courage. It was worse than when he’d decided to go solo, it was worse than going out on stage alone for the first time, worse than stepping on the X-Factor stage. The hardest words he’d had to say. “Y/N,” he whispered, summoning the last of his courage, “the songs are all about you.”

That made you go quiet for longer. You stared at him, taking inventory of every part of his face. He could feel your eyes and he didn’t even squirm--it felt different than it did when you usually looked at him. It felt like you were seeing him for the first time. Like a veil had been lifted between them. 

And yet, you said nothing.

“Do you want me to go?” He asked, the words breaking him. “I--I can go.”

But you pressed your fingers to his chin, instead. “Don’t go,” you whispered and this time it was him who stared at you. “I--I’m scared.”

“I know.” Your eyes blinked at him, eye level, so close he could see nothing but the rim of the blue, your long eyelashes he’d always admired. “I just...I can’t pretend anymore, love.” The nickname, long used between them, suddenly took on a new meaning in this moment. He could feel the shift in the air, the way the word landed between them. It slipped from his lips without him thinking about it, but he meant it in every which way. 

You ran your forefinger along the edge of his jaw and Harry’s breath caught in his chest. “Me either.”

And then, you pulled his lips down to meet yours and it was like Harry’s world bottomed out. Your lips were soft, just like he’d imagined them, and you tasted like sugar and the watermelons they’d had for a snack after dinner. The hint of toothpaste lingered and it made him smile, remembering how you’d spoken in the bathroom. His fingers wound their way into your hair and you let out a soft moan that set Harry’s skin on fire. 

Your teeth tugged on his bottom lip and Harry rolled you onto you back with a groan, begging for more, for anything you would give him. The kiss was deep, passionate, without end. You barely pulled away to breathe, wanting to never stop touching him. Your fingers crawled up his arms, across his collarbones, fire left in their wake. 

Harry balanced above you on his forearms, head dipping to meet your lips over and over again, his fingers curled into your hair that was spread out on the pillow. Your legs tugged apart, letting him slot himself between them, leaning into you. It was like a dream he didn’t want to wake up from. 

“Y/N,” he said, pulling back from your lips just an inch so he could speak. “I--I don’t want to do anything if you don’t--”

“I want you,” you said, your hands drifting from his shoulders to cup his face between them. He leaned into your touch and you smoothed your fingers across his cheekbones. “I’ve always wanted you. H, you’re everything to me.”

His lips found yours again without a second beat, and you pulled every ounce of his heart from his chest with your lips. The sheets rustled under their bodies as they moved, begging to get more and more of each other. Your hands wound under his shirt, tugging as he leaned back, pulling it off, the chilly night air nipping at his skin. You sat up, Harry balanced precariously on your lap, and pressed kisses to his skin, licking over his swallows. 

Harry let out a moan, not being able to hold it in, but didn’t stop her as you made your way across his skin, claiming it as your own. He couldn’t hear anything but you--it was consuming, the feeling of being this close to you. Your teeth bit into the skin on his collarbones, sucking a bruise he knew would be there tomorrow, and he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He wanted the world to know he was yours, that he loved you with every fiber of his being, unashamedly. 

“I’m yours,” he said, his voice edging on a moan as you licked across his nipples. “Yours, Y/N, I’m yours.”

“And I’m yours,” you replied, and leaned back, tugging off his sweatshirt, which you’d worn to bed. You were bare underneath, and you could feel Harry’s eyes on your skin, learning you. Usually, you felt studied under the gaze of a man, but now, with Harry, you felt admired, adored, loved. His hands kneaded circles into your breasts and you arched into him, moans leaving your mouth in breaths. 

You felt his tongue on your nipples, just as you had done to him, and your fingers gripped into the curls of his hair. “Fuck, H.”

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, pressing kisses to your sternum. “So, utterly beautiful.”

You leaned back onto your hands, chest rising and falling as he made his way down your body, inching farther and farther back on the bed until he was on his stomach, lips hovering above the waistband of your sleep shorts. His eyes met yours in question, and you nodded, words failing you.

“Need to hear your words, love,” he said, kissing your bare skin just centimeters above the bow on her shorts. “Want to make sure that you’re sure.”

“Take them off,” you said, struggling to speak as he licked your skin. “Touch me, H, please.”

And he did. He tugged your shorts down your legs, underwear coming with them, and pressed kisses to the inside of your thighs, nipping love bites into the skin there. “You know, I dreamed of you last week,” he said against your skin. 

“What?” You squealed as he sucked on the sensitive skin at the crease of your thighs. 

“Of you, like this.” Then, he licked a stripe up her clit and you buried your hands in his hair, holding him there. “But in the dream, I couldn’t smell you.” He sucked on your clit, and you struggled not to scream his name. Your friends would hear and the last thing you wanted was to deal with that in the morning. “I couldn’t hear you,” he said, licking you again, and your head flailed to the side. “And I woke up before I could do this.”

And then, he dove his tongue inside of you, and you pressed a hand to your mouth, holding in the moans that begged to fly free. It was heaven, his tongue. Delving into her like it was made for you, curling inside of you and rubbing the front of your walls delicately. 

“Harry,” you said, trying to keep your voice quiet, “more, please.”

He wasted no time pressing his finger to your clit and rubbing you in circles, causing your chest to arch from the pleasure. You could feel a knot building in your belly, begging and begging for more. 

“Please, H,” you let out in a moan, and that’s when you felt his own moan against your skin, the vibration of the stubble on your skin causing you to shake against him. But his free hand anchored your hips to his lips, and he continued his work, licking in and out of you, then up and down your folds, drawing soft moans from your mouth over and over again. 

“Wanna hear you,” he said softly against your skin, “please, love, wanna hear you.”

“Don’t want to wake them,” you replied, struggling to look down at him. But when you did, the sight of his head between your thighs, hair a mess, eyes gleaming up at you in the dark, it ripped a moan from your chest that you couldn’t contain. 

“That’s it,” he said. “Don’t give a fuck about them. S’just us, yeah?” He kneaded circles into her skin with his hands and sucked harshly on her clit, your hips bucking in response, but he didn’t let go. “What d’ya want, love?”

His words were rough, broken from pleasure. You loved the way he sounded, having never had the opportunity to have him this way. “Fingers,” you said. “I’m close.”

“Yeah?” His one hand left her hips and circled your entrance, drawing your wetness around his fingers. “Fuck, love, you’re so wet.”

“H,” you breathed out, “please.”

That’s all he needed. He dipped his forefinger inside of you, your tight walls gripping him like a vice. But to him, you were virtue--you were everything to him, everything good in the world wrapped up in a single person. He curled his finger, brushing against a spot that made you squeak and he smiled before adding a second finger. “Come for me, love,” he said, sucking on your clit. “Wanna taste you.”

And that’s all it took. Your orgasm washed over you like a wave, your hands gripped in his hair, keeping his face there as he licked your clit softly, drawing shock waves from your body over and over again. You struggled to keep your eyes open, wanting to watch him as you came, and he held your eye contact as you did. When he pulled his fingers from you and sucked on them, you just stared at him, wondering if this was real. If he was real. 

“Taste sweet,” he said, crawling up your body, pushing you down onto the bed with the weight of him. You loved it, the feeling of his skin on yours, of his body on yours. “With an edge of sourness.” He pressed his lips to yours, and you licked into his mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue. You hadn’t been this turned on...ever, you realized. “Tastes good,” he said against your lips. 

You smiled, running your fingers through his hair. “Felt good too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You’re good at that, you know.” 

He chuckled at you and pressed a kiss to your cheeks. “Can’t wait to do it again.”

You captured his lips again, arms winding around his chest, pulling him into you, closer and closer until you couldn’t find the space between you. And then, you rolled, taking him with her, leaving him on his back and you flush to his chest. “Some other time,” you said softly, drawing back. “I want you.”

“Fuck,” he let out, gaze travelling up your body as you sat back on his hips, bare center brushing over his pajama pants. “Want you too, baby.”

You smirked at him. “Baby?”

He blushed. “Sorry, it just--”

“Shh.” You pressed a finger to his lips. “I like it.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm.” You rolled your hips over his erection and he bucked up into you, not being able to stop himself, drawing groans from both of them. “Wanna hear you, H,” you whispered, tossing his words back at him. “Hmm?”

“Take ‘em off.” He bucked his hips again, and you smiled down at him. Your fingers curled around his pants and his underwear, and crawled back, pulling them off together in one motion, just as he had done to you. 

You held him in your hand, brushing your thumb over his tip, the pre-cum slick against your skin. Your tongue licked a stripe up the underside of him, drawing a moan from his chest as you laved circles around the tip of his length. 

“Y/N,” he breathed, “Not gonna last if you keep doing that,” he said. “Need--”

“I know,” you replied. You pressed another kiss to him and clamored back up his body. “Wouldn’t have happened to bring condoms, would you?”

“Fuck,” he said, “no, wasn’t exactly planning this.”

You pressed a kiss to his chest, trying to calm the panicked look in his eyes. His hands ran up and down your thighs, his touch consuming you. “I’ve got the implant,” you said, “if that’s ok with you.”

“I’ll pull out,” he said, leaning up on his elbows. “Promise.” Then your lips found each other’s and you rocked your hips against him, the slick of you dripping down onto his length. He swallowed your moans and you did the same, the dark of the night wrapping around you, encasing you in a world that was just the two of you. 

You reached down and ran your fingertips along his length, brushing his tip against your slit, the feeling sending tingles down her spine.

“Please,” he begged beneath you, fingers digging into your hips to where there would probably be marks tomorrow, “please, Y/N.”

When you slid down his length, your eyes shut from the sensation of him stretching you. You didn’t stop until he had bottomed out, you hips flush against one another. You could feel his eyes watching as you adjusted to his size, to the burn of him inside of you. It was surreal to have him like this, to have him so close to that you couldn’t find where you ended and he began. To have his lips find yours as you began to rock back and forth on him, open mouths meeting like old friends, begging for more and more and more. It was heaven, you decided, this was heaven on earth, this feeling. Your head snapped back when he bucked up into you, hitting a deep spot that made your arms shake. And then he ran his tongue down your exposed neck, nipping and biting into your skin, whispers of your name like an echo around them. 

You wanted all of him. Every single part of him, you wanted to have his laughter and his smile and his words and his thoughts and his love. You wanted his body in the morning and the night and across the distance. You wanted him to hold you in his arms always, to care always. To you, he was hope, he was a bright spot in a sea of darkness. He was the antithesis of your exes, of Tom, of the men who had used you up and left you in a bed of nails. Harry built you up, stoking your fire with actions that showed you how much he cared, never wavering from your side, always running back when you called. No matter how far he went, the residue of him never left your mind, body, or soul. 

Harry’s arms caged you in and suddenly you were on your back and he was above you and inside of you and everywhere. His fingers danced across you skin as his hips snapped into you, moans drying in your throat because you could barely think from the pleasure zipping through your body. 

“Fuck, Y/N,” he said, words darting through the fog, “I love you.” He was holding you so tightly in his arms that you wondered if he thought you would run. As if you wanted to be anywhere else but here, beneath him, close to him, breathing him in and out. 

“I love you too.” The words left you without hesitation and you pressed your lips back to his as you chased your highs together, his hips never stopping. He pulled one of your legs high on his hip, reaching a new depth inside of you, and you scrabbled at his back with your fingers, leaving marks in your wake. “Right there,” you whispered against his shoulder, biting softly into the skin there. 

He pistoned his hips in and out, hitting the spot over and over again. “Yeah? Right there, baby?” 

You had always joked he had a praise kink, but now that you had him, you knew you were right and good lord did you feed right into it. “So good,” you mumbled, “so good Harry, please don’t stop.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied, tongue darting to the spot under your ear when you turned hyourer head, choking on a moan when he thumbed your clit. “You’re so beautiful, Y/N. Gonna tell you every day. Never going to stop now that I have you. Finally.”

You dug into his ass with your heels, keeping him deep inside of you. Hands grabbed skin, and you basked in the heat that surrounded you, the sweat that stuck their skin together. It was perfect--he was perfect, he felt perfect, it was as if you were made for one another. Somehow, every movement he made was better, he navigated your body like he had the only compass and it was carved into his heart. 

Every part of you ached, ached for him and for release. You could feel it rising inside of you, taught like a string, begging. “Oh my god,” you whined, spasming around him. Your hand gripped the back of his neck and dragged his head back to you, fingers digging into his warm skin. Your lips met as he pumped into you over and over, drawing moans from them both that never stopped. You loved that he made noise in bed, that he told you how good you felt, that he made sure you knew how incredible it was. Every kiss pressed to your clammy skin was a reminder of how much he loved you.

“Fuck.” A guttural moan escaped him when you clamped down on his length, your orgasm threatening to rip through you. “Not going to last, baby.” His forehead rested against yours as he dug into the sheets with his fingers and toes, using every ounce of his energy to bring you both to the brink. Your fingers scratched against his shoulder blades, gripping him close as you arched into him. 

“I’m close,” you said, words ragged, “so close.”

“Come,” he breathed out, “please, Y/N.”

You pressed a kiss to his brow, the salt of his sweat against your lips. “Come inside me,” you whispered to his skin. “Want to feel you.”

His head turned, eyes meeting yours. “Sure?”

You dug your heels into his ass in response, gripping him like a vice to you. A moan ripped through him as he dug deep inside of you, pulling every piece of your love from her chest, just as you did to him. Then, he kissed you again, your name a mantra against your lips, and with that, your orgasm ripped through your body. 

He chased it with every brush of his hips, running after you as you soared and fell. You held him close as you came down, struggling to find your breath. But you didn’t want him to move. You wanted to feel him, to see him, to hear him finish. And when he did, it was the most beautiful sight you’d ever seen. His eyes bore into yours, teeth dug into his bottom lip so deep it probably drew blood, fingers curling tightly into the sheets on either side of your shoulders. Slowly, his hips came to a halt and you could feel his cum inside of you. The air was silent except for your breathing as he rested his body against you, not pulling out. 

You two laid there together, your arms wound around his waist, running your fingers up and down his back, his fingers threading through your hair. It was as if you were waiting for the words, because neither of you had them. What do you say after that? 

Harry moved to pull out of you, but you held him fast. “Please,” you whispered, “just…”

He shushed you, knowing what you meant. You wanted him close. After denying your feelings for so long it was like they were consuming every inch of you, overwhelming your brain and your heart. Having him close helped tether you to the ground and you couldn’t let go. Not yet. 

“Love you,” he said softly into your hair. “Love you so much, Y/N.”

You pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “Love you too.”

“Think they heard?”

You giggled against his skin and you could feel his smile. “Probably. Don’t care that much, though.”

“Me either.”

You were quiet for a second before mustering the courage to ask the question swirling through your brain. “You’re not going to leave in the morning, right?”

He lifted his head and looked at you. “Never.” Then, he pressed a soft kiss against your lips and tucked his head into the space between your shoulder and your neck, his breath even against your skin. 

And you both laid there, adjusting to what it felt like to finally have the one person you’d always wanted, praying that when the sun rose nothing would change.

talk to me about camping!harry here | masterlist here

[imkylotrash]

Regret Like A Riot

Pairing: Sam Harvey x reader

Request: Something like the girls are trying to set them up cause they're really close and like each other but are scared to admit it. Anonymous

A/N It went a little different then your request but I really hope you like it regardless. 

You promise yourself you’ll tell him if he just makes it through the night. If he just stays alive long enough for the Burned One to be killed, you’ll tell him everything. You’ll admit to why you always turn clumsy around him and can hardly formulate a sentence. You’ll admit to blushing even if you only catch sight of his back as he’s walking down the hallway. You’ll admit to everything in the morning if he just stays alive. And you truly do have every intention of telling him but then you see Musa holding his hand and taking away his pain. You see the way she looks at him and your heart cracks just slightly because you know you’ll never be able to compete with her. And frankly, you don’t want to compete with her. If she makes him happy, then you’re happy. That’s why you stay silent when morning arrives. You don’t say anything as you help him to his room or when he asks you to stay a while until he falls asleep. 

“I love you,” you whisper telling yourself that it counts even though he’s far away in his dreams. You spend a moment too long looking at him sleeping before you tiptoe to the door and exit his bedroom.

“You’re still here?” Caught in the act. Slowly you turn around to face Terra. 

“He was scared he might have nightmares so I stayed to make sure he fell asleep,” you explain not meeting her eyes at any point. The last thing you need right now is for Terra to know why you really stayed. As much as you love her, you also know that she’s a blabber mouth and not one to tell secrets too. 

“That was nice of you.” She’s too tired to notice anything it seems. 

“I lit the fireplace in there to keep him warm but someone should probably check on it in a few hours.” Terra stumbles slightly but manages to nod. 

“You must be exhausted. Get some sleep, I’ll make sure he’s alright.” You don’t have to be a mind fairy to feel her gratefulness. She hugs you before heading off to her own room. You’re guessing everyone will be asleep right now so you figure you should get some rest too. Just as you’re about to leave, you hear him scream. You’re by his side immediately clasping his hand in yours. 

“Are you okay? Should I get your dad?” He hugs you tightly trying to regain control of his breathing. It must’ve been a nightmare. 

“It came back,” he whimpers. You don’t have to ask what he means. It’s as fresh in your mind as it is in his. 

“I’m not going anywhere, okay? Just get some rest.” You pull over a chair and take his hand in yours once more. It doesn’t take him long to fall asleep but this time you stay. Even though your entire body is screaming for rest, you force yourself to stay awake. You’ll sleep when you feel absolutely sure Sam is okay. But even with that conviction, there comes a point where your body just gives up. It’s night time when you do wake up. Sam is still sleeping but the fire has gone out making the room feel like a freezer. It’s almost second nature to you now when you wave your hand towards the ashes and create a fire. It takes four days before you leave the room. He asked you to stay and you’re not about to say no. On the fourth day, you return to your own room ready to stand under the shower until the warm water runs out but the girls have something else planned. 

“How long have you been dating Sam?” Musa asks. You make a sound that’s somewhere between laughing and choking. 

“I’m not dating Sam. We’re best friends, you know that.” This is not the time for to ask these questions. You’re exhausted and drained. All you want to do is clean up and then sleep for weeks. 

“Best friends care for each other, yeah. But you just spent the last couple of days glued to his side,” Stella chips in 

“He almost died. Terra’s been there too!” It’s a very weak argument considering Terra is his sister. Of course she’s going to be there. By the looks on their faces no one believes you. 

“Fine!” you exclaim ready to own up to your feelings if it means you can get some sleep, “I like Sam. I really really like him. But it’s never going to happen so what’s the point?” 

“What are you talking about? Sam literally never stops talking about you. He is most definitely in love with you,” Terra says. Pure exhaustion threatens to turn you into a weeping mess. 

“I saw the moment he shared with you, Musa. When you took his pain. I don’t want to ruin that for you.” 

“What moment? I helped him because I could. Because he’s my friend and so is Terra. I don’t have any feelings whatsoever for him.” It’s like a weight is lifted from your shoulders when you realise that there might be a chance for you. 

“If you won’t tell him, I will. You guys would be the cutest couple and we need something good,” Bloom smiles. The rest of the girls are quick to nod in agreement. 

“Terra?” you ask because you need to hear her say that it’s okay. You need to know that you’re not burning a bridge with her. You’ve known her and Sam for as long as you can remember. They’ve become your family. 

“Of course it’s okay! I’ve been shipping the two of you since we were ten.” You hug her tightly knowing you’ll never be able to explain to her how much it means that she thinks you’re good enough for Sam. 

“I have to go,” you mumble already heading out the door when Stella stops you. 

“You’re not about to confess your love for that boy looking like that. You’ve waited how many years? It can wait another hour.” And with that she whisks you into the bathroom along with the other girls. Exactly one hour later your hair is done, you have a very natural base of makeup on and Stella has picked out the perfect outfit. 

“Thank you for your help, girls.” You bring them in for a group hug and then you’re off. Down the hall and to the left. Once you’re in front his door, you hesitate. What if Terra has gotten this all wrong? But you promised yourself you’d tell him if you both made it through that night so you knock on the door and anxiously wait for him to open the door. 

“Hey. Miss me already?” he jokes but you’re too nervous to laugh. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks always so aware of your mood. 

“Nothing’s wrong. Or maybe it is. I guess it depends on a lot of things, but inherently there’s nothing wrong at the moment. I just-”

“You’re rambling. Spill it.” He drags you into his room and closes the door. You’ve been alone together in his room a million times before but now you’re painfully aware of how his shirt is hugging his body and how tempting it is to just rip it off him. 

“I like you.” 

“I like you too.” He doesn’t get it and you have no idea how to begin explaining. Your thoughts are coming and going too fast for you to form a plan for what you want to say. 

“Breathe,” he reminds you. Two deep breaths later and you feel slightly calmer. 

“When I say I like you, I don’t mean as a friend. I mean I really, truly care for you.” He stays quiet perhaps in shock. You never should’ve told him. 

“I’m going to go,” you say hoping for a quick exit but he stops you.

“You like me as more than a friend?” You’re not entirely sure why he needs you to why he needs to rub it in your face so you just nod. Again, he goes quiet but he’s blocking the door so there’s no way you can leave unless jumping out the window is an option. It feels like a good idea right about now. 

“Why?” His question brings you back to reality and away from the window. 

“Why? Because you’re you. And you’re pretty amazing.” He opens his mouth and closes it again. He repeats this action three times before something clicks inside of him. You see the change in his face as he leans down towards you. Is this really happening? You don’t have time to think when his lips connect with yours. Time stops, cue fireworks. You both jump when you accidentally start the fireplace. 

“Sorry. Too many positive feelings, I guess.” You blush deciding that your shoes are very interesting. 

“I really care about you too. I have for a long time. But you’re this badass fire fairy, I had no idea how to tell you.” 

“You like me?” He lifts your head and nods. You kiss him again revelling in the feeling of his body pressed against yours. He slowly backs you towards the bed and you make no objections. You’ve waited so long for this moment. 

“This should really go,” you whisper tugging at his shirt. He doesn’t need to be told twice. It’s gone before you can blink and seeing him with no shirt makes you not want to blink at all. 

“Have I ever mentioned you’re really hot?” He chuckles hugging you tightly. His skin is still slightly pink where the Burned One got him. You try to ignore the stabbing feeling in your heart when you think back to that night. You don’t know what you’d done if he hadn’t made it. You’re just about to pull off your shirt when the door burst open and five fairies fall through the opening. 

“Terra?” Sam asks darting over to pick up his shirt from the floor. 

“Oh my God!” Aisha laughs, “I knew we should’ve left them alone.” 

“Well, I wanted to know how it went. He’s my brother,” Terra defends herself trying to maintain at least some dignity. 

“By the looks of it, everything went really well.” Stella smirks looking from Sam to you. Looking at all of them, you feel infinitely grateful to have them in your life. These people have become your family. So even though you’re itching to get Sam alone, you don’t mind it when you all settle down on the floor to talk. The girls want to know every little detail and you try to give them as much as possible while still keeping just a few things private. Sam sneaks his arm around you and kisses the top of your head but other than that he just listens. You regret not telling him sooner. You hate to think how much time was waisted when you could’ve been cuddled up next to him like you are right now. 

“Later,” you whisper to Sam at one point when the other girls are distracted by the gossip. 

“Absolutely.” 

[jooniesthigh]

kiss me in the dark (1) | jjk

Pairing: Jungkook x reader, slight Namjoon x reader

Genre: College/Frat House AU, Fluff, Enemies to Lovers, Angst

Warnings: Mentions of drinking, possible smut

Rating: 17+

Words: 1,931 

Summary: I’ve known Namjoon since we were children, I love all his friends except for one. Jeon Jungkook. Who does he think he is trying to kiss me randomly?

A/N: Honestly, this could go very badly since I haven’t written since 2018 so bear with me please? 

--

You walked into your shared apartment style dorm, you had no urge to be social whatsoever; all you craved was to be smothered by all your pillows and fall into an eternal sleep. You were maybe 5 feet from entering your sanctuary before being ambushed by your roommate, Jennie.

“Y/N, it’s finally over! Midterms are done with now we can go and celebrate after all that hard work!” Jennie yelled as she wrapped herself around you and held you tightly.

You were startled abruptly by the way Jennie wrapped herself around you so you lost your footing and caused yourself and Jennie to fall across the couch.

You huffed and stared at Jennie and said, ”Jennie, I’m tired... I don’t really want to go out and get sloshed..”Jennie looked at you with her pouty puppy face and basically begged, ”But, Y/N Beta Tau is hosting a party! We have to go plus, I know you miss Namjoon and the boys!”

You knew Jennie was right, you did miss spending time with Namjoon, he was your best friend basically; you even missed Yoongi and his cocky self.

“Jennie, that’s not fair... using the boys against me like that... If I go to this party, will you promise me you’ll let me sleep in until now?” You grouchily ask your sweet roommate.

“I absolutely promise I’ll let you sleep in! Hell, I’ll even let you sleep in until 2 PM!” Jennie yells eagerly as a response. You smirk at that response looking forward to be able to sleep in to your heart’s content.

“Just let me get ready, I refuse to see Namjoon and the rest of the boys with gross midterm hair!” I say in a joking manner as you shove Jennie off of yourself playfully.

Once you were able to escape Jennie’s clutches you ran straight for your room so you’ll be able to get ready peacefully, and that is exactly what you did after you took a much needed shower. As you rummaged through your closet, you decided on a pair of light wash ripped jeans and a black bandeau top.

On the way to the party you balance yourself on the edge of the sidewalk and ask, ”So, is Suzy meeting us there tonight?” You almost slipped multiple times while asking that question.

Jennie huffed as she watched you anxiously, ”no, no she’s spending the weekend with her boyfriend. Hey! Be careful, I don’t want to be the person to have to explain to Namjoon you cracked your head open because you were!”

“Well it’s a good thing I didn’t crack my head open then, now you won’t have to say a word.” I said as you leaned away from the ledge and walked normally, “Are you planning on hooking up with anyone tonight?” You asked as you watch all the fellow college student move about, most likely attending different parties.

Jennie turns to look at you as you both make a left turn, “If the offer presents itself then sure, but if it doesn’t I probably won’t.”

You looked at Jennie, admiring her beauty and confidence. She really knew how to carry herself, you definitely have a lot of respect for her, “Jen, you're such a confident and beautiful woman, you will most definitely find someone to hook up with.”

Jennie smiled at you as she said, “I mean I know I could hook up with someone but, I’m just kind of tired of hooking up with random guys. I think I just want a stable relationship, I mean we’re juniors so we only have one more year here.”

As you got closer to the frat house the deep conversation was starting to come to a close, “No, I totally get it! I get like that too, sometimes I just want to be in a relationship but as of right now I am fine with it just being me!”

You and Jennie arrived the front of the frat houses shortly after that conversation ended, at the entrance of the frat house you are greeted by Jin, “Y/N, wow Definitely didn't expect to see you here!”

“Yeah, Jennie had me come here against my will, I would very much prefer to be in my comfy bed right now,” You said with a pouty expression.

After hearing your response Jin let out a loud belly laugh, ”Still as lazy as ever I see.” You pout in a teasing manner, before asking, ”Hey, do you know where Namjoon is?”

“I think he’s either in the kitchen or playing beer pong with Hobi, ”Jin replied with a stretch. Upon hearing Jin’s response you turn over to look at Jennie, “You don’t mind right? If I go see Namjoon?”

Jennie rolled her eyes at your question, ”No, I don’t mind silly. Go on, go spend time with Namjoon. I know you miss him like crazy. Don’t worry about me dummy, I’ll be fine. If it makes you feel any better I’ll be here keeping Jin company until he gets tired of me.”

You laughed at Jennie’s response, ”Alright, alright I’ll let you be by yourself for a bit. If I can’t find you later meet me in Jin’s room,” After getting Jennie’s response you ran off to go find Namjoon. 

It didn’t take long to find him either, he was in the living room area playing beer pong with Hobi, they were playing against two other frat brothers. You ran up behind Namjoon and wrapped your arms around him, ”Nammie! I missed you so much!”

Namjoon jumped slightly before realizing that the arms around him were yours, “Yah Y/N I missed you too. I wish you wouldn’t scare the life out of me though,” You grinned mischievously at his jumpy response before sticking your tongue out at him.

After you let go of Namjoon, you decided to watch them play a few rounds of beer pong. Even though, you didn’t particular enjoy parties all that much you still appreciated them for being able to allow to spend more time with Namjoon, Jennie, and the rest of the boys.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw none other than Jeon Jungkook. You weren’t that big of a fan of him to be honest though, you didn’t really know him that well either.

When you were first introduced to Namjoon’s frat brothers Jungkook wasn’t around and he never showed himself when you hung out with the others. What did know about him thought was that he had a huge habit of messing around with women, using them to his heart’s content then just chucking them aside as if they were nothing at all.

After first, you didn't notice it but Jungkook was actually looking in your direction. Initially, you thought nothing of it, you thought it was maybe because his next target was behind you but upon further inspection you came to the awful conclusion that you were his target.

You felt absolutely uncomfortable with the intense gaze that Jungkook was directing towards you, it was as if you the only person in the room to him. Under normal circumstances, that would've been absolutely adoring but since it was coming from Jungkook it left a sour aftertaste in your mouth.

You let Namjoon know you were going to head over to the bathroom for a bit, you just had to get away from Jungkook’s piercing gaze. You tried to maneuver through the crowd of college students, most of them drunk. Eventually you made it to a bathroom, once you were inside you proceeded to lock the door to make sure no one accidentally came in. You groaned in a frustrating manner as you walked over to the sink and proceeded to splash your face with cold water.

You shivered slightly at how cold the water was, after you were done splashing your face you reached for a face towel. As you dried your face, you just couldn’t get over how soft the towel was you could just sleep on this towel and be content.

You decided to stay in the bathroom for a while before making the decision to head out to go back to Namjoon. Once you finally got yourself under control you sighed as you put up the towel before turning towards the door and decided to pluck it before choosing to open it, you weren’t expecting to see anyone behind the locked door; so you you were pretty surprised to see Jungkook there.

Upon seeing who was waiting for you on the other side of the door, you stepped back slightly, “Sorry, didn’t mean to make you wait, I’ll just get out of your way,” You tried to maneuver you way out of the door, even though Jungkook wasn’t giving you much room to get out fast enough.

You were almost out of that uncomfortable situation before you suddenly felt a hand wrap itself onto your wrist, it stopped you from going any further. You looked back to see that Jungkook was holding onto your wrist, his hand was slightly but it wasn’t sweaty in any way. “Is there something I could help you with? If not, could I have my hand back?” You say as you stare at his wrist in a confused manner.

“Oh, sorry... I was just curious as to how you know Namjoon-hyung?” Jungkook asked curiously but you noticed that looked in his eyes, he was eyeing your body with a lust-filled gaze.

You gulped nervously before saying, “We grew up as childhood friends, I’ve known him my whole life.”

Jungkook stepped forward before saying, “Sorry, if I’m being intrusive I’ve just never seen you around before at the frat house.”

You huffed before saying, “I’ve been to the frat house, you’re just never there when I visit.”

To create some distance between Jungkook and you started to move backwards, it was short-lived though because your back touched the wall, “Maybe I should hang out at the frat house more often then,” Jungkook said with a smirk as he reached his other hand out to caress the left side of your face, his hand roamed until the tips of his fingers are grazing your lip.

“Jungkook, what’re you doing?” You asked nervously as you knew what was about to happen.

“I’m just talking to a beautiful girl in the bathroom, I have no idea what you're talking about,” Jungkook said as he leaned down and pressed a searing kiss onto your lips, you were and weren't expecting it but now that it had happened you didn’t know what to do with yourself. All you could focus on was the velvet softness of his kiss Jungkook was an extremely good kisser.

You didn’t realize it at the moment but you were also kissing him back with such fervor, you were kissing Jungkook with such a neediness, if anyone walked on this you would be truly embarrassed.

When you realized what you were even doing you managed to snap out of the heady, cloudy sensation and push Jungkook away from you. You were so upset over the fact that he kissed you and you had the audacity to kiss him back, that you slapped him through the red blazing anger that blinded your logical side from peeking though.

Once you realized what you had done, you ran out of the bathroom; you didn’t even go back to see Namjoon, you just felt so disgusted with yourself that you just ended up running up into Jin’s room, you managed to lock the door and hide yourself underneath his comforters.

[luminescencefics]

you feel like home - part five

“I’ve got to go,” Ryan says, grabbing her mobile in one hand and flicking off the lights until she’s standing in her entranceway, throwing a gentle look over her shoulder to make sure that Luna is still sleeping soundlessly on her couch.

“Have fun, Ry! Give me all the dirty deets tomorrow. I want a full synopsis on how Harry is in bed, and don’t leave out the size of his—”

The red button on the bottom of her screen has never looked more inviting. 

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***

In Which the World “Date” is Used Lightly

“This was a stupid idea—I’m not going.” 

Ryan is staring at her complexion in the vanity mirror as she swipes another layer of mascara over her dark lashes. Her mobile is balancing between a glass bottle of foundation and an eyeshadow palette, with Fiona’s wide-eyed expression staring back at her. When she gasps, Ryan’s dark eyes dart down to the grainy image of her best mate who looks as if she’s about to reach through the screen and shake Ryan repeatedly until she gets her head on straight.

“You’re absolutely barking,” Fiona scoffs. Ryan places the wand back into the mascara bottle, running a shaky hand through her freshly-dried hair as she tries to remember why she even said yes to Harry in the first place.

When she thinks back on it now, she’ll blame it all on a rare moment of bravery. Or quite possibly, amnesia. Because for some strange reason, her brain momentarily short-circuited, completely forgetting about every other time she’s been in Harry’s presence and how she rarely can get through a few sentences around him. Now that she’s agreed to spend an entire evening with him, on his own turf, under the watchful eyes of his observant toddler? 

Ryan can already feel the bile rising in her throat.

“Fiona, I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m not even sure I was thinking!” She’s panicking now, pacing back and forth on the navy blue tiled floors of her bathroom to try and quell the thumping of her heart. “He definitely doesn’t think it’s a date. I’m just making a fuss, because he didn’t even use those words! He only invited me over because he feels bad that I had to watch his kid for a few hours. That’s it. Nothing else.” 

She isn’t even sure who she’s trying to convince at this point, but she is sure that her pacing is causing her breath to come out in uneven spurts, her chest rising and falling as she slowly pushes herself to the brink of a full-blown panic attack.

“Ry, will you please stop moving? You’re giving me a bloody migraine,” Fiona calls out. Ryan acquiesces, coming to a stop once again and leaning forward on the countertop of her vanity so that Fiona can see the redness tinge her cheeks and her mouth fall open as she tries to catch her breath.

“I can’t do this.” Her voice sounds shaky and fragile, the same way Jackson’s did whenever he mentioned his mother in the past tense a few hours earlier. 

Suddenly, Ryan wishes she was somebody like Fiona. Somebody who didn’t overthink every situation she fell into. Somebody who didn’t have a near panic attack at the trivial notion of making pizzas at her attractive next-door neighbor’s flat. Somebody who could just be normal, without the added pretense of anxiety and social awkwardness that sometimes felt all too crippling.

“Will you stop with that? You can do this. You will do this, even if I have to drive all the way to Hampstead during a lockdown and drag you five meters to his fucking door.” Ryan frowns at Fiona through the screen, wishing for the first time since moving out that she was in the room across the hall from her, close enough so that she can hear her friend’s words of encouragement in person instead of through the tinny speakers of her mobile.

“Okay,” Ryan says quietly, reaching for her mascara and beginning to unscrew the wand before she stops abruptly, an afterthought on the tip of her tongue. “He probably doesn’t even think it’s a date anyway.”

Fiona groans loudly, frustration etched on her freckled face. “He wouldn’t have invited you over if he didn’t want to spend time with you, Ry.”

“But Jackson will be there, too. And he even called it ‘a proper thank you,’ so there’s really no need for me to be freaking out, right? I’m not even sure why I’m putting makeup on in the first place,” Ryan huffs, dropping the mascara on the countertop before releasing her forehead into her hands, feeling overwhelmingly exhausted.

It’s quiet for a few moments, and Ryan lifts her head slowly, wondering if Fiona hung up. When she sees her friend leaning closer towards the screen, her big, blue eyes wide and full of patience (an emotion that rarely crossed Fiona Kitchen’s face), Ryan cocks her head to the side in surprise.

“Ry,” Fiona says through an exhale, “I know you’re nervous. I know you’re scared. And I know this makes you feel uncomfortable and awkward, but Ryan—” the added stress on her name causes her to stare back at her blue-eyed friend unblinkingly, wondering how Fiona could be so understanding, “You said you felt something, yeah? This afternoon?”

Ryan nods, remembering the way Harry looked with a blush covering the apples of his cheeks, the way his body shifted in his trainers when he fumbled over his words, the way his eyes looked at everything else besides the brown of her own or the glasses on her face. The way she somehow made him nervous for the first time, and the way her brain seemingly shuts off whenever she’s in his presence.

The way she blinked and he was practically inches away from her face, his green eyes swirling with fascination and desire and all the other feelings that caused Ryan’s stomach to flutter—and she wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, but she’s sure it had to mean something.

“See!” Fiona squeals, as if it were supposed to bring clarification. When Ryan stays silent, Fiona groans again in frustration. “He wants you to come! He’s probably just as nervous as you are.”

Ryan considers this for a moment, wondering if Fiona was on to something. “Stop harping on the word date, Ry, it’ll only drive you mad. He wants you there. You want to be there. Finish getting ready and have fun for once in your life!”

The proverbial kick in the arse from Fiona is exactly what Ryan needed, and in an uncharacteristic wave of confidence, she unscrews the mascara wand and finishes applying it to her other eye, brushes up her eyebrows so that they look somewhat even, and adds a bit of tinted lip balm to her pouty lips. 

She settles on her trusted pair of light wash, straight-legged denim, a white thinly strapped vest paired with a chunky, cropped camel woolen cardigan overtop that hangs off one shoulder, and finishes off her comfortable look with an old pair of Reebok Club C trainers. 

“Can’t you wear the brown booties I bought you last Christmas instead?” Fiona whines from her position propped up on Ryan’s dresser.

Ryan laughs, turning from the mirror to her friend. “It’s pizzas in his flat, Fee.”

Fiona scoffs and Ryan nervously pulls at the edges of her cardigan, obsessing over her outfit for the hundredth time, debating if she should have curled her hair instead of left it to air-dry into unkempt waves, or if she should add more makeup to her face, or if she should just strip it all off and wear leggings and an oversized jumper instead. 

“Ry,” Fiona says through her mobile, and the urgency in her voice causes Ryan to spin on her heel, her back against the mirror and her eyes falling onto Fiona’s. “You look great.”

Those three words cause Ryan to finally breathe clearly for the first time since she started getting ready, and the relief that courses through her veins unfurl the tension-filled knots on her shoulders, releasing the rigidity of her neck. She feels pretty and she feels like she’s going to be okay, and when Ryan smiles brightly at Fiona, her friend imitates it, and suddenly she feels ready for her almost-maybe-sort-of date with Harry.

“I’ve got to go,” Ryan says, grabbing her mobile in one hand and flicking off the lights until she’s standing in her entranceway, throwing a gentle look over her shoulder to make sure that Luna is still sleeping soundlessly on her couch.

“Have fun, Ry! Give me all the dirty deets tomorrow. I want a full synopsis on how Harry is in bed, and don’t leave out the size of his—”

The red button on the bottom of her screen has never looked more inviting. 

Ryan leaves the hallway light on and slips her mobile into her back pocket, opening the heavy oak of her door and closing it softly without turning the lock. She’ll only be next door, anyway.

With the last stretches of her confidence still flushing through her system, Ryan takes the short trek to Harry’s front door and knocks three times for good measure, leaning a bit forward when she hears the faint sounds of a record spinning on the slipmat, the needle creating that scratchy sound that only comes from choosing a turntable over a regular speaker. She can hear the indistinct echoes of Jackson’s giggles, and before she can hear anything else, the front door whips open and Ryan springs backward, standing upright as to not give away the fact that she was spying on her neighbors.

But the smirk on Harry’s lips and the upward arch of his eyebrows proves that she was caught red-handed.

So much for confidence.

“Hi, Ryan,” Harry says in that soft, slow voice of his that causes Ryan’s stomach to bottom out. When she finally lifts her eyes to fall onto his frame, she’s suddenly at a loss for words when she takes in his appearance.

His hair that was a disheveled mess earlier in the day with strands pulled upwards in every direction was now tamed, the ringlets forming perfect coils with the ends still a bit damp, as if he had rushed to take a shower before Ryan appeared. His torso was covered with another threadbare graphic shirt, the white sleeves falling just around the midpoint of his protruding biceps, with a blue tea towel hanging around his shoulder that had tiny flour fingerprints on the edge. Along his waist and down his legs were a pair of comfortable, camel-colored dress pants that Ryan would never think to match with a shirt that mentioned something about eating honey. And when Ryan’s eyes fall towards Harry’s feet, she sucks in a small breath when she realizes that he wasn’t wearing anything below—just the sight of his toes and what seemed to be lettering tattooed on his ankles.

Ryan was suddenly glad she chose not to add another layer of blush, because the way she was just so obviously checking him out made the colors of her cheeks flush a notable, deep pink. 

“Hi, Harry,” she finally manages to say. And when her brown eyes finally creep up towards Harry’s face, she can see that his eyes are blown-out a bit, the greenness of the irises a bit harder to detect. His gaze seems to fall on the area of skin uncovered by the neckline of her cardigan, where a few layers of gold necklaces are stacked, practically tangling together. 

Before they can redirect their gazes and gather their breaths, a loud “Ryan!” shouts out from behind Harry’s frame, where a messy-haired and bright-eyed Jackson can be found. He’s wearing pajamas and wielding a child-sized plastic rolling pin covered with flour, and the sight instantly brings a smile to Ryan’s face.

“Hey, champ,” she calls out, feeling herself regaining her composure.

“You and daddy match,” he says simply, his chubby finger floating between Harry’s trousers and Ryan’s chunky cardigan, the matching shades of brown distinguishable to the four-year-old standing in the entranceway. 

Ryan offers a shy giggle and Harry looks at the articles of clothing, smiling when he notices that they are, in fact, matching in an off-handed sort of way. The trite realization brings a wide grin to his lips, and he begins to wonder what else he and Ryan have in common.

“Have you finished planning your toppings, Bubs?” Harry asks, opening the door wider so that Ryan can enter his flat, shutting it behind her once she’s infiltrated the entranceway. 

Jackson goes off on a tangent, listing all of the possible toppings he could add to his personalized pizza. Ryan listens as she steps out of her trainers and leaves them near the shoe rack, trying her hardest to be polite. And when the trio enters the kitchen, she stops and watches Harry and Jackson fall into place behind the granite island, Harry lifting Jackson effortlessly on the barstool so that he can kneel on the leather cushion while spreading out red sauce over his much smaller dough, with Harry beside him beginning to roll out his own. Ryan averts her eyes to the floor when she notices Harry’s muscles constricting under his shirt when he pushes the rolling pin away from his body, stretching his long arms out just so that he can pull them back in. 

When the spot near Harry remains vacant, he lifts his head up to see Ryan standing under the archway, wringing her hands in front of her body nervously. “C’mere, Ryan. We’ve got you a nice little setup.”

She notices the pre-floured area on the other side of Harry and slowly enters it, noticing how close she is to his body. The area isn’t as large as she once assumed, and when Harry continues to roll out his dough, she can feel his elbows brush against her arms and suddenly she feels a bit warm in his kitchen.

Ryan unbuttons the top button of the three on her cardigan so that the sleeves fall a bit lower on her shoulder, exposing her sweltering skin to the cooler air. The last thing she needs is to be a sweaty, awkward mess in front of Harry.

Harry notices her fidgeting in his periphery and stalls his movements when the olive skin of her shoulder closest to his body is uncovered. When she lifts her arms and begins formulating the dough, more inches of her skin begin to show from the looseness of the fabric, and when she reaches for her own rolling pin, he can make out the etchings of a small tattoo on the back of her shoulder blade. 

He stays silent, gulping deeply when he realizes that he’s been staring for far too long.

“Ryan, can you help me with the pepperoni please?” Jackson asks from the other side of the countertop, and she stops spreading the sauce on her own pizza so that she can pop over and assist him. Harry’s a bit jaded, considering he’s usually the one to help his son make his pizza, but when he catches Jackson pointing at specific spots on the dough and Ryan placing the slices there expertly, sneaking a smaller piece into his hand so that he can munch on it quietly, Harry can’t help but sense that red-hot feeling of longing rush through his skin. 

When Ryan goes back to her pizza, Harry finishes adding the mushrooms to his own before grabbing her attention. “Want a drink?”

“Please,” she responds, suddenly noticing how dry her throat had been.

“I’ve got wine, beer…” Harry sticks his head further into the fridge, “Juice?” 

He smiles when he coaxes a pretty giggle from her mouth. “Beer works,” she calls over.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. What’s a better combination than beer and pizza?”

Harry chuckles, grabbing two bottles of Carlsberg and opening them easily before handing one over to Ryan as she sprinkles cheese in a swirl over the red sauce of her pizza. He’s watching her as she brings the neck of the bottle to her lips and takes a generous sip, before reaching for the spinach and adding that to the dough.

“I lived off of this when I was at uni,” Ryan offers as she’s spreading her toppings generously, and Harry’s wondering if the distraction is allowing her to speak to him freely.

“Yeah?” he asks, coaxing.

She hums and takes another swig, and Harry finds that he can’t look anywhere else. “Every Thursday night during my final year. My best mate Fiona and I somehow got away with having no lectures on Friday, so every Thursday we’d order pizza and drink beer and watch The Only Way is Essex.”

“Sounds like my old flatmate, Niall,” Harry says between drinks. “Used to live above a kebab shack so we’d eat that almost every other night and whatever liquor was discounted at the shops.” Ryan sprinkles chopped up pieces of bell peppers over her unmade pizza. “Watched Great British Bake Off instead, obviously we were far more cultured.”

Ryan’s brown eyes lift to meet Harry’s, and she quirks her eyebrows in response to his obvious teasing. “Clearly you’re a far more sophisticated drunk than I gathered.”

“You gathered, huh? What were your predictions, then?” Ryan can’t tell if he’s flirting with her or not, because she’s never really found herself in this situation with Harry before. But when she takes in his direct eye contact and the half-smirk covering his face, and the way his attention only seems to fall on hers, she’s almost certain that he is. 

“Sloppy, for starters.”

“Hey!” Harry interjects, facing her completely so that his back is towards Jackson, which in any other circumstance, would probably be a very bad decision.

Ryan giggles before continuing. “I mean, you take up far too much space as it is, I can only imagine a drunk Harry Styles flopping all over the place.”

“Aren’t you the clumsy one in this friendship of ours, Ryan?” Harry says with a small chuckle, flitting his finger back and forth between the pair of them. It’s only when he catches Ryan’s smile faltering, her body turning back towards her pizza and her eyes focusing on adding more vegetables, when Harry realizes that he’s said the wrong thing.

Before he can right himself, Jackson’s captured her attention, and suddenly she’s left him again—floating to the other side of the countertop and away from his body, and he tries his hardest not to frown when he no longer feels the warmth against his left side.

“Daddy, can I show Ryan my room, please? I want to show her the fort we made last night!” Jackson asks, and Harry looks up blankly, somehow forgetting that his son was even in the same room as them.

When two pairs of eyes fall on his frame, he blinks quickly before responding. “Right, uh, go ahead, Bubs. I’ll just pop these in the oven.”

Ryan feels a bit bad leaving Harry alone with their mess, but suddenly Jackson’s asking her to lift him off the barstool and onto the floor, placing his smaller hand in hers once his bare feet have touched the hardwood, dragging her through the living space and down the hallway into his bedroom at the end. 

She takes in his room with childlike wonder, observing the deep blue walls and light wood flooring with a circular rug in the middle near all of Jackson’s toys. A twin-sized loft bed is nestled into the corner with a ladder leading up to the mattress. Underneath are two massive beanbag chairs surrounded by shorter bookshelves, and the hand-constructed fort put together by different items in the flat along with multi-colored quilts and stuffed animals.

When she cranes her neck up, Ryan can make out a cluster of stick-on neon yellow stars on his ceiling, and she smiles to herself, remembering how she had the same thing in her childhood bedroom.

Her neck swivels around the room as she takes in the little pieces of Jackson he’s left scattered around—Crayola-filled artwork hanging along the walls, small trainers and wellies falling out of the closet, a Paw Patrol juice cup on his nightstand. When Ryan takes a step towards it, she notices a picture frame behind the cup, an outline of three bodies upon first glance. It’s only once she’s stepped a bit closer when she realizes that it’s technically two and a half persons—a man, a woman, and a small baby.

With shaking hands Ryan clutches the wooden frame and immediately recognizes Harry as the body on the left. Albeit his hair was much longer and messier, there was no mistaking his boyish grin and sparkling eyes. This younger version of Harry still made her cheeks flush and her heart rate skyrocket, and for a brief moment she lets her mind wander at the prospect of potentially meeting this version of Harry when she was at a pub in uni, or out shopping around the city, or even running into him in the Underground. She wonders if she would fall for this version just as quickly as she did with the older version waiting right outside this very room, a version without a child and without responsibilities. 

Ryan’s gaze falls to the figure his arm is wrapped tightly around, and with one look at the shape of her eyes and the slope of her nose, she knows instantly that this is Jackson’s mother. She’s beautiful—the type of beautiful that you couldn’t help but feel envious of, because her button nose and almond-shaped eyes and pouty lips and perfectly structured jawline were put together in such a fashion that made it seem almost unfair that one person could possess that type of beauty. Her blonde hair fell in curly ringlets down her back, and her eyes were so blue that Ryan was almost certain she could see herself through the reflection. She had that type of smile where her mouth sort of fell open and you could practically hear the laugh fall from her parted lips. Jackson was swaddled inside a green homemade quilt in her arms, and Ryan could only make out thin wisps of chocolate-colored hair, and suddenly she felt as if she was looking at an image that wasn’t meant for her eyes to see. 

Before she could get caught, Jackson’s soft voice calls out to her from inside the fort, and Ryan’s forced to crouch down on her hands and knees and crawl her way through the opening.

“Do you like it?” Jackson asks once she’s seated across from him, her legs crossed underneath her torso so that the tips of her denim-clad knees brush against Jackson’s flannel ones. 

“I love it,” Ryan replies, smiling when he flicks on the spinning nightlight against the wall, illuminating the inside. It’s only with the new light that Ryan notices the personalized touches Jackson added to the inside of his fort—the Tonka trucks along the floor, two grey pillows that seem to fit in a king-sized bedroom set, an iPad in the corner with a Marvel film queued up on Netflix, and a glamorous assortment of stuffed animals surrounding the border of the tent. 

She’s quite impressed with his interior design skills, if she’s being honest.

“Me and daddy watched Spiderman here last night because we can’t go to the cinema no more. He asked me if I wanted to watch Harry Potter with him, but I told him no because we haven’t finished reading the book yet,” Jackson explains slowly. “I told him I’d only watch it with you anyways. I think he got a little sad about that.”

Ryan’s heart swells inside her chest. “Why will you only watch it with me, champ?”

“Because it’s our thing.” He says it so definitively that Ryan feels stupid for even questioning him in the first place, and the thought of him telling his father no, all because she spent an afternoon reading a few chapters with him, causes a warm feeling to rush through her insides. It’s a different type of warmth than the feeling she gets from Harry—instead of a sweltering wave of heat, it’s more subtle, more muted. It feels like wrapping yourself in a heavy blanket in the middle of winter when you’re laying on your mum’s couch, just before you’re about to fall asleep. It feels like comfort.

It feels like home.

Just as Jackson’s in the middle of telling her about the new Spiderman film, a fuller head of curls pops in through the front entrance. Ryan peeks over and sees that Harry’s smiling shyly, looking as if he’s afraid to interrupt their moment together.

“Pizza’s done,” he says quietly. Jackson practically jumps through the blanketed roof, pushing Harry’s shoulders so that he falls backward on his bum as he runs through the entrance with only the kitchen in his sight. 

Before Ryan follows him, she makes sure to turn off the nightlight and rearrange the pillows she and Jackson were sitting on. When she crawls out of the tent on all fours, she looks up from the carpet and sees Harry watching her from the doorframe, a comical look in his eyes.

“Don’t,” Ryan says from her position on the floor, shaking her head in silent laughter once she hears Harry’s loud chuckles from across the room. Before she can get up on her own, she sees large bare feet in her line of vision, with a strong tattooed arm waiting to be held on to.

Her right hand clutches the outside of his own while the left falls into his palm, and with practically no effort, Harry heaves her upright so that she’s standing a few inches away from him. She blinks in the low light of Jackson’s room and realizes that she can still make out the freckles in Harry’s eyes. They’re suddenly in the same position as earlier when they’re standing far too close to each other and breathing a bit too heavy and saying absolutely nothing. It’s only when Harry reaches his right hand out to move her cardigan back into place on her exposed shoulder when she realizes that she’s still holding on to his left hand for dear life.

She unlatches her tight grip and lets her hands fall back to her sides, wondering if she’ll always feel as if her heart was going to burst through her skin whenever she stood too close to Harry. He coughs unnecessarily into his fist, stepping back slowly and giving her a forced smile.

“Let’s go eat.” His voice comes out low and scratchy, and it sounds as if he’s forgotten how to speak. Harry desperately is craving for a beer or water or anything to reprieve the dryness coating his throat, because he somehow has forgotten how to breathe correctly around Ryan, especially when she’s looking at him with messy hair and blown out eyes and tinged cheeks.

When they arrive back into the kitchen, Jackson’s already seated at the kitchen nook, working his way swiftly through his first slice of pepperoni pizza. Ryan slinks in next to him, already reaching for the stack of napkins in the center of the table and wiping his sauce-covered chin as if the motions were practically ingrained in her system. Harry watches a bit slackjawed, before refocusing and grabbing the half-emptied beer bottles from the counter and falling into the seat across from them.

“Thank you,” Ryan mumbles once Harry hands her beer over, and when their fingers brush during the exchange, she tries her hardest not to quiver from the rush of electricity crackling under her skin. 

Harry nods and grabs a slice of his own, bringing it to his mouth and chewing. Ryan does the same, and when Jackson peers over at her pizza, squinting at each topping and trying to decide if he liked them or not, Ryan rips a small sliver and places it on his plate.

“What’s that?” Jackson asks through a mouthful of pepperoni pizza.

“Jackson, chew with your mouth closed,” Harry instructs from across the table.

“Sorry,” Jackson mumbles, trying his hardest to move his lips without opening his mouth, causing Ryan to giggle on the side of him.

“They’re bell peppers,” Ryan explains when Jackson holds a slice of green pepper in front of his eyes. He instantly squishes his face in disgust and places the vegetable back onto the slice, exchanging it for the pepperoni.

“Hey! Don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” Ryan exclaims from Jackson’s side.

He shakes his head so quickly that the curls on the top of his head begin to flutter. “I don’t like vegetables.”

Ryan rolls her eyes. “Oh yeah? Coming from the kid who eats dried fruits as a snack. I don’t believe you for a second.” Her light tone indicates that she was only teasing, and when she tickles Jackson’s side and he begins to laugh loudly, she giggles right along with him.

But Harry’s confused as he’s watching them interact, wondering how on earth Ryan knew that piece of information. “Dried fruits?”

Ryan nods when she realizes that Jackson’s chewing. “Yeah. He told me his mum used to feed him that for snack time.”

When she looks up and sees a look of puzzlement across Harry’s face, she’s suddenly wondering if she’s accidentally pried open Pandora’s box, unassumingly spilling out memories that he had forgotten long ago. Memories of a pretty woman with blonde hair and blue eyes who fed her son dried fruits and has slowly become the elephant in the room that neither Ryan nor Harry seem to want to address.

Ryan reaches for her beer, tipping the bottle back until its contents are sliding down her throat. When she notices Jackson’s cup of water is empty, she grabs it and sneaks past him out of the kitchen nook, recycling her bottle and filling up Jackson’s drink. Feeling Harry’s gaze on her lower back, she looks over her shoulder and asks, “Need another?” and it’s as if the uncomfortable interaction never even happened.

Once she’s back across the table from Harry, she looks down at her plate and realizes that Jackson’s stolen her piece with the vegetables, chewing slowly as if he were trying to decide right then and there if he enjoyed the taste.

Ryan feels her chest puff with pride and she’s not quite sure why the site of Harry’s toddler eating the vegetables off of her pizza makes her feel important in some odd, inconsequential way.

“I guess it’s okay,” Jackson offers, causing both Harry and Ryan to laugh loudly across from each other.

Not long after their plates are emptied and their beer bottles a bit lighter, Ryan can see Jackson stifle a yawn from her periphery. It’s cute, the way his eyes squint and his small fist tries its hardest to catch the breath leaving his mouth before anybody can notice. But Harry does, and he’s looking at Ryan with a knowing look on his face. “Think you tired him out.”

Expecting a fight from the sleepy toddler beside her, Ryan suddenly stiffens when she feels Jackson’s head rest against her arm, his tangled curls tickling below her chin. When she angles her head downward, she smiles when she sees him rubbing his eyes, expelling another deep yawn for good measure.

“It’s alright, we had quite the day,” Ryan agrees, ruffling Jackson’s hair softly. “Go ahead and take him to bed, I’ll put these plates away.”

Harry pauses halfway out of the kitchen nook, looking at the pretty girl with his sleeping son practically on her lap in wonderment. The domesticity of her proposal surges through his skin, causing his heart to pump faster inside his chest. He knows he’s being ridiculous—she’s probably just being nice, offering to put the plates in the dishwasher because she didn’t want to intrude on Jackson’s nighttime routine.

But still, his cheeks flush at the thought that maybe this could be a normal occurrence, and for a slight moment, he revels in it, thinking of all the what if’s and could be’s. 

When he offers her a slight nod, Ryan places Jackson on the floor, before stacking the glass plates and bringing them over to the countertop near the sink. She turns around and smiles at the sight of Jackson holding Harry’s hand and leading him out of the kitchen.

But before he can get too far, Harry mumbles something that ends with Ryan’s name, and suddenly he’s ambling over to where she’s standing, blinking the sleep out of his eyes before he mumbles, “G’night Ryan.”

Ryan crouches before him, reaching him just at eye level. “Night, champ. Have a good sleep.”

All of a sudden, two tiny arms are wrapped around her neck, practically causing Ryan to fumble backward at the collision of Jackson’s small body falling into hers. She can feel his tiny hands gripping her brown hair, and after regaining her composure, her arms wrap around him fully so that she’s giving him a proper hug.

“Thanks fo’ today. I had the bestest time ever.” His sleepy admission causes Ryan’s breath to still, and that warm feeling is back—but instead of a warm quilt during winter, it feels like a heated blanket in the middle of summer, and suddenly she’s wondering what this all means.

And when he backs away slowly with a tiny wave, Ryan can only offer a shy smile, feeling far more confused than ever before. She’s too nervous to even look up at Harry’s face, because she’s almost certain that he’s probably horrified at the sight unfolding in front of him. Especially when he was fidgeting over her dried fruit comment, and the fact that Jackson’s mother’s beauty was incomparable to her own, and the fact that Jackson’s probably grown a little bit attached to Ryan, and she’s not sure if she can break his heart when she ultimately has to tell him the hard truth.

Ryan stands up quickly and gets back to loading the dishwasher, trying her hardest to focus on the task at hand instead of the whirring sound of her brain trying to formulate meaning to the situation she suddenly finds herself trapped in.

It’s only once she pushes the start button and takes a deep breath when she hears the familiar foot pattern of Harry entering the kitchen. She turns around and begins to tell him that she should probably be heading out too, but before she can even think to speak, Harry’s looking at her with an indescribable emotion in his eyes, and suddenly she can’t bring herself to move.

“You didn’t have to clean up,” Harry says slowly, reaching for his unfinished beer that Ryan moved to the island countertop, before bringing it to his lips with ease.

“It’s no bother, really. You did most of the cooking when I was in Jackson’s tent.” It’s a lame excuse and thankfully Harry doesn’t push it. Instead, he reaches into the fridge and offers up another beer, and how can Ryan say now when his boyish grin is back and she’s still trying to figure out what that look in his eyes means?

And that’s how they find themselves in Harry’s living room—with Harry perched on one end of the couch, watching Ryan fondly as she peers at all of the records lining his walls, figuring out which one to choose per his request. 

“It’s not rocket science, Ryan,” Harry teases after a few minutes have gone by and his record player is still void of a vinyl. 

“No, not rocket science. But it is quite an important decision,” Ryan counters, moving on to the next bookshelf and stopping at the K-N alphabetized section.

“Just pick what you like!” Harry exclaims through a chuckle.

Ryan stands up straight and turns around so that she’s staring at him head-on. “Music is your thing, isn’t it?”

Harry nods once he realizes that she’s waiting for a response.

“Right. So you’re going to judge me either way based on my decision—”

“—Whoa, who said I was going to—”

Ryan’s hand silences him. “It’s an internal judgment. Not a bad thing! I’d feel the same way if you were picking out a book in my flat.” She turns back around and bends at the knees, skimming through the M shelf. 

“Fleetwood Mac is too easy. You obviously are into classic rock with the way you wear graphic t-shirts and have two Rolling Stones albums framed near your guitar. Also, don’t get me started on the George Michael lyrics tattooed on your ankles.” Ryan’s still scrounging through Harry’s record collection, therefore she can’t see the look of astonishment grace his features.

She stops right in the middle of her search and plucks a yellow album with a colored picture of mountains in the background. It’s simple enough and the cover of the album is what drew her in, and when she squints her eyes and makes out Joni Mitchell in loopy cursive, she shrugs, deeming it okay.

When Harry grabs it from her hands and looks at her with a shocked look on his face, she smiles back, feeling confident in her blind decision.

“Joni Mitchell? I’m quite impressed,” Harry says as he’s placing the vinyl on the record player, bringing the needle to the outer-most edge and heading back to his position on the couch once the cracking sounds of the first song begin to play.

“Don’t be,” Ryan responds, gripping her beer and beginning to follow him. “I only picked it because I liked the color.”

Harry’s head falls back in laughter, before asking, “I’m supposed to believe that you know nothing about music?”

“Exactly,” Ryan starts, walking past an end table filled with picture frames. “I’m just observant. You give off the classic rock vibe with one look at your workspace, and it doesn’t take an idiot to recognize Careless Whisper lyrics—quite the bold choice, might I add.” Before she can say anything else, she recognizes Jackson’s mum in another photograph, and suddenly she’s forgotten her point. 

Harry’s arms are wrapped around her shoulders again, but instead of holding baby Jackson, she’s holding a beer and surrounded by four other people. Harry’s hair isn’t as long as in the first photograph, but it still falls well past his ears, so Ryan can only assume that this is from a time before Jackson was even a consideration. One arm falls around her shoulders, and his other arm is around the waist of a taller bloke with dark hair and a thick scarf around his neck. It seems to be winter, with the way everybody is wearing woolen coats and knitted jumpers. When Ryan squints, she can make out Christmas lights in the background, and she feels the elephant in the room come back, but this time she’s sick of running from it.

“Is this Jackson’s mum?” She’s not quite sure why she even bothered asking, because the way Harry’s eyes stop twinkling and the way his grin falls to a frown, Ryan already knows the answer without him having to speak.

“Yeah, her name’s Rachel,” Harry starts, placing his beer on the glass coffee table. “She’s just, uh, sort of not around anymore.”

It’s only once Harry’s still quiet, still looking pensive, when Ryan realizes how stupid she truly was. “Oh shit. I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.” She’s fumbling again and shifting her feet and averting her eyes, and suddenly she wishes she were anywhere but here.

“Wait, what? Oh. Oh,” he laughs, sipping his beer. Ryan stares at him wide-eyed, wondering how on earth he could possibly find this funny. “Christ, she’s not dead, Ryan. She’s just, uh, not really around.”

Ryan nods stupidly before falling onto the other side of the couch, finishing her beer easily and placing the empty bottle on the table. 

“We grew up together,” Harry starts, and Ryan brings her eyes up to look at his face and finds that he’s alarmingly calm. “When I came back home after uni we just sort of started hanging out with our sixth form mates again. Rachel and I never really were anything, but it was during that time after uni when you feel really lost and have no idea what you want to do with your life, so we just found comfort in each other, I suppose.” He pauses and Ryan wants to tell him that he really doesn’t owe her an explanation, but before she can say anything he’s shifted his eyes from the floor to her face and she knows that for some reason he wants to tell her.

“I hate to call it an accident, because Jackson’s the best little guy I could have ever asked for. But all of a sudden Rachel was pregnant and I was panicking because a kid wasn’t ever in the cards for me. Not so soon. And not with somebody I—”

Ryan nods, assuring him that she knows exactly what he means even if Harry can’t bring himself to admit it.

“So we… tried, I guess. She couldn’t bring herself to, uh, terminate it—him,” he winces softly and Ryan suddenly wants to grab his hand and never let go. “After he was born, we really tried. Got a flat near Finsbury Park and really did the best we could. And I was in, I was fully committed, one hundred percent. But, uh, Rachel. Rachel wasn’t.”

Ryan feels incredibly sad for Harry all of a sudden. Not the Harry that’s sitting before her—successful, kind, handsome. But the Harry she never met, the Harry she imagined when she first saw the photograph with Rachel in Jackson’s room. The one with long hair and big eyes, the one who didn’t really deserve to deal with the burden of raising a child on his own. The one who did it anyway, selflessly.

“She wanted to go to law school. Had all these dreams about being a career woman and living in a posh flat in the middle of the city. A baby wasn’t in her plans, either, I suppose.” He pauses and offers Ryan an encouraging smile when he sees the look of anguish on her face. “It’s okay, really. Didn’t want to stick around where I wasn’t wanted, right? Didn’t want that for Jackson, either.”

“We’re okay, now. Still friends and such. She sees Jackson one long weekend out of every month, and I think he’s getting used to it. But with covid and everything, she just hasn’t really been around much. So it’s an adjustment.” Ryan can tell that Harry really isn’t okay with everything, because how could you still be friends with somebody you made a child with? That same somebody who decided it wasn’t meant for her? That same somebody who let the responsibility fall onto one parent?

But one look into his eyes, Ryan can see that even after all that heartache and stress and pain, that Harry somehow did it. He raised a great kid, he figured out a career path, he ended up doing it all on his own—and suddenly Ryan feels quite in awe of the man sitting across from her.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” The words fall from her lips without a second thought, and she can feel the brightness from Harry’s grin, her own eyes squinting when she takes in the image of a beaming Harry with fluffy curls and strong arms and a stupid look plastered on his face.

Harry suddenly wonders if he should scoot closer towards her on the couch. Because she’s looking at him with bright, brown eyes, pouty tinted lips and a look on her face that he just wants to unravel. But he’s timid, because he doesn’t want to overwhelm her with the story he just told her and the feelings that are brewing in his stomach.

So he changes the subject.

“Jackson really likes you.” His words cause the apples of Ryan’s cheeks to raise.

“Yeah, well, guess I can sort of relate to him in a way,” her words come out so softly that Harry had to lean forward to make sure he heard her correctly. Because suddenly Ryan’s giving him information while looking into his eyes—not focusing on spreading out her pizza toppings, not mulling over which record to pick. She’s looking directly at him.

And Harry’s almost certain this is better than sitting closer to her.

“How’s that?” he asks.

“Well, I was around the same age as him when my parents split up,” Ryan frowns when she realizes the direction their conversation is heading in. “I mean, not that you and Rachel were ever married or whatever. Or that you’re doing a bad job, I just, uh,” Harry encourages her to continue with a gentle nod, but suddenly Ryan is aware that her throat is closing up and her mind has gone blank. Her thoughts are just a swirling mess inside her brain, disappearing on the tip of her tongue the second she tries to formulate her response.

She can feel her social anxiety take hold, and she desperately needs a minute.

So she tells him. “Just, hold on. Give me a minute.”

Harry is nothing but patient, and when he can hear the breath lodged in her throat, her chest compressing as Ryan tries her hardest to push it out of her lungs, he reaches for the hand squeezing her thigh, rubbing soothing motions on the back of her hand with his thumb to calm her down. 

Ryan’s eyes immediately look into green, and she can feel her chest fall as the breath finally leaves her parted lips. With one look into Harry’s eyes, one graze of his hand on the back of her own, she can feel her breathing regulate, and suddenly she’s calm for the first time all night.

“Lost you again,” Harry whispers.

Ryan nods thrice, feeling her skin prickle with goosebumps even though her insides are sweltering. “Sometimes I can’t think when I’m around you,” she admits.

“Isn’t that supposed to be a good thing?” Harry asks gently.

“Not really,” Ryan gulps harshly, forcing her eyes to look into Harry’s. “Not for me.”

It’s quiet, safe for the opening guitar riff of Car On a Hill playing softly in the background. Harry feels his body shifting just the smallest bit towards Ryan’s, so subtle that she can barely recognize it as it’s happening. She’s trapped in his eyes, swirling greens and golden hues spotted with freckles telling her to lean in, to come closer, to push herself into his personal space the way he’s been dreaming about ever since she left with his tea mug the day before. 

And she wants to, so badly, that suddenly it’s all she can think about. The confidence Fiona instilled in her hours earlier is back, and when her eyes dart down to Harry’s cherry lips, taking in the chapped ridges and the way his tongue darts out to lick the dryness away, she’s almost certain he wants the same thing as her.

His hand is still on hers and that’s all of the affirmation she needs, so with one fell swoop she makes a move to close the gap between them. And just as Ryan is centimeters away from his lips and her eyelids are about to shut—

—Nothing.

At the last moment, Harry backed away the smallest of inches, but it was enough for Ryan to understand that he didn’t, in fact, want the same thing as her.

So with flushed cheeks and wide eyes, Ryan stands up abruptly, ripping her hand out from under his own warm palm, offering a lame, “I should go,” before grabbing her trainers from near the shoe rack and heading straight for his door without even stopping to put them on her feet.

Before Harry can hear his front door close, he kicks into high gear, running after Ryan before she can get away again. Because he’s an absolute fucking idiot for backing away, for his muscles turning rigid and his mind swirling with far too many thoughts. 

But once he’s reached the entranceway, he finds nobody there. Just the sight of his door half-closed and the hallway rug upturned at the corner. And when he peeks his head out into the hallway and hears the sound of heavy oak closing, he realizes that he’s missed his chance.

And there’s nobody to blame but himself. 

*** A/N: Hi guys, please don’t hate me. Here’s part five of you feel like home, aka the longest part I’ve posted so far. Originally I was going to have it be two parts, but because I didn’t want to create another title, it’s just one. I know this is probably not how we thought (or wanted) the “date” to go, but I promise there’s more to the story! Part six will be posted on Thursday December 3, so feel free to chat (or yell) at me in the meantime. This was a submission for the 1DFF Quarantine Challenge, which has other amazing writers participating as well, so feel free to check out the page! And to everybody celebrating tomorrow, have a safe and happy Thanksgiving. x

taglist: @stylishmuser @vikki1220 @greatestview @verorax @cronias13 @adoremp3 @ilovegolden @taintedwonder @stepping-into-the-light @onlyphysicallypresent @dontwanttobealone @justsaying20 @elemayox @awomanindeniall @ihearthemcallingforyou @halloweenniall @live-at-the-forum @kakayam @harryinsweatersandbandanas @hopelessly-harry @ficnarry @morethanamelodyy @niallgolden @harryswinterberries @caramello-styles @harrysstyle @greatestview @solllaris​ @niallgolden​

[sunnydaisy1]

Arts and Crafts

SAM WILSON X READER

A/N: there is not enough sam fics on tumblr so here I am. I haven’t edited this i am too tired for life right now. Also please send me requests for marvel especially peter parker, sam wilson, bucky, steve and scott.

You yawned as you walked into the main kitchen and living area the avengers shared. Tony had sent a message round to everyone telling them to gather here and considering that the time was 7 o'clock in the morning you weren't best pleased. Nat was leaning against one of the counters and snorted at your sleepy expression as you walked past her to the coffee machine. You glared at her and returned to your coffee making, rubbing your eyes as the machine started pouring caffeine into your mug. Once the steaming beverage was done, you sleepily dragged yourself to the breakfast bar and plopped down into one of the stools. At that moment, Steve, Sam and Bucky entered the room, obviously having just finished a group workout as they were all freshly showered and wafting man smell everywhere. You rolled your eyes at their annoyingly energetic selves and sipped your coffee. When Sam noticed your slumped form at the bar he smiled softly and walked over to you, scooting into the seat next to you and reaching out to take a sip of your coffee. Unfortunately for you, you were too late to prevent the smirking soldier from slurping a large proportion of your beverage. You grumbled and glared at Sam who passed you back your mug with a cheeky grin. "You look cheery this morning." He said, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning onto the counter. "Well sorry mr early bird but some of us don't appreciate being woken up at the crack of dawn for a meeting stark called and hasnt even turned up for yet." You snarked back, causing a chuckle to fall from Sam, "It's quarter past 7 love, dawn was 3 hours ago." You glared at him for what felt the 100th time that morning and felt a small heat rise to your face as you saw the obnoxiously handsome smirk Sam held on his face and the way his biceps were bulging as they leaned on the bar top. "Same thing." You mumbled, draining the last drops of your coffee. Tony walked in and Steve grumbled a 'finally' as you all turned your attention to the billionaire carrying some pastries. He dumped them in front of you and Sam and you both instantly reached in to pull out breakfast. "What's this all about then Stark?" Sam asked as he chewed on his pecan twist. "Ive gathered you all here because we have got a charity event today for some of the schools in the area. You all will be hosting an activity for the kids. We have 2 hours until they all arrive." You grimaced as you vaguely remembered Tony mentioning the charity event a few weeks back but you had been so busy on missions recently you had forgotten. Judging by the similar looks on the teams' faces around the room, you gathered that the event had also slipped their minds. "So... Steve and Bucky you will be hosting the self defense taster down in the gym, a few agents will also be down there to ensure you aren't teaching them anything too aggressive..." Tony continued to list off everyone in the room and ticked off his checklist, "Okay and finally, Wilson and Agent L/N will be hosting arts and crafts in the downstairs hall." At once Sam spoke up, "wait why have I got stuck with arts and crafts?" You chuckled at his distraught expression, he obviously thought he was above painting and colouring. "Why you scared of a lil glitter Sammy?" You giggled and he glared at you, hating the effect that nickname had on him. "No...I just think my talents lie elsewhere." He replied causing you to snort. "Well suck it up Wilson." Tony replied and you saw Bucky and Steve wetting themselves on the other side of the room. Sam had obviously noticed too as he had a huge frown on his face and was scowling at them. "Alright everybody go get ready, all your supplies should be in the rooms already. And remember, 2 hours until they arrive." You sighed and stood up, placing your mug in the dishwasher. Sam was waiting by the door, and you nudged him as you both walked out, "Come on Wilson, cheer up, your stuck with me for 6 hours." Sam groaned and rolled his eyes, "Oh great." When you both reached the room, your eyes widened when you looked at the large pile of boxes brimming with craft supplies stacked in the middle of the room. "Jeeezz." Sam breathed out, walking over to inspect the mountain. You both opened the cardboard box lids and scanned the supplies, "Where do we even start?" You asked, baffled at the amount Tony had ordered. "Guess we just start with one box and empty them until it's all set up." Sam replied and you nodded, tying your hair up into a ponytail. Almost 2 hours later, the room had been transformed into a neatly organised explosion with paint, pencils, glitter glue and many other supplies on each table. "Okay, we have 5 minutes until the kiddos arrive." Sam stated, checking the watch on his wrist. "Cool, I'm gonna grab us some water and snacks from the kitchen. Try not to break anything while I'm gone." You teased and Sam playfully rolled his eyes, "Alright." When you arrived back into the room, arms loaded with bags of snacks, you immediately laughed at how awkward Sam looked surrounded by little kids all badgering him with questions. You quickly distributed the food into one of the empty cardboard boxes in the corner and walked over to Sam, giggling at his wide eyed expression of fear. "Hey everyone!" You said loudly, gathering all the little kids attentions, "I'm Y/N and this is Sam. We are gonna be doing arts and crafts with you today, how does that sound?" At once all the children cheered and you glanced at Sam who stood in awe and fear. "Okay then, lets all sit down at a table and we can start." The kids all ran to a chair and you walked over to Sam, "you okay Sammy?" He nodded slowly, "I don't know what I'm meant to do, they're so small." You chuckled and took his hand in yours, dragging him over to a table. "It'll be fine just relax, they can smell fear," You whispered. Soon, each child was creating some sort of masterpiece and you were sitting with a small group of kids who were colouring. "Wow Amy I love your dog it looks awesome." You commented, making the shy little girl beam. "Thankyou." She replied and you smiled, carrying on colouring a picture you had attempted to draw of an elephant. Glancing up to check on Sam, you looked to see he had a girl sat on his thigh as they both coloured something. You felt your heart begin to swell and butterflies fill your stomach as you watched the adorable scene. The girl was happily chatting away to Sam and he was nodding, laughing every so often and replying to many of the kids around the table. "Could you please pass me the green?" Tom asked, one of the boys sitting opposite Sam. "Yep, there you go." the soldier replied and Tom thanked him before returning to his drawing. The little girl sat on Sam's thigh tapped his arm and he looked down to her, "I want to give this to my Mum when I go home." Gracie said and Sam nodded, "that's very nice of you." Gracie blushed a little and grinned, "you should give your drawing to Y/N, then she could put it on her fridge like my mummy does." Sam glanced down at the image Gracie had drawn of Sam and you together that he was colouring. "I don't know about that..." He said and Gracie frowned, "you should give it to her and then she'll want to marry you and stick all your drawings on the fridge." Sam choked on his air a little, "why would she want to marry me because I gave her our picture?" Gracie sighed as if Sam had just asked the most obvious question there was, "because she loves you." "What? No she doesn't Gracie." Sam replied and Gracie shook her head, "Mummy told me when people love each other very much they look at each other in a special way and you and Y/N look at each other like that." Sam gaped at the little smiling girl on his lap and struggled to form any words at how outright she was being, "Oh urh no I dont think so." Gracie then giggled and said, "Plus Y/N was looking at your bum earlier so she definitely wants to marry you." Sam felt heat rise to his face and Gracie shrugged, not phased at all by their conversation. The pair continued to colour together and the topic quickly changed to the pasta Gracie had eaten last night for dinner. When the last few kids were leaving the craft room as it had eventually reached 3pm, you sighed and groaned at the mess of glitter and pens all around you. "I do not want to clear this up." You stated and Sam nodded, standing up from his chair, "Neither, I never knew kids could be this messy." You chuckled and glanced at the soldier walking towards you, instantly breaking out into laughter when you noticed the large red streak of paint across his cheek. At once Sam frowned and stopped next to you, "What?" You giggled and wiped your thumb across his cheek, showing him the red paint he had somehow managed to acquire. "Oh..." Sam said, rubbing the paint with the back of his hand but managing to just smudge it more. You chuckled and shook your head, "Sorry Sammy but your just making it worse." He huffed in frustration and put his hand down, giving up with cleaning his face, "Oh well, I'll wash it off later." Eventually, the room was turned back into a presentable state with only specks of glitter littered across the floor that you knew would be impossible to remove. You yawned and walked to the entrance, followed closely by Sam who turned the light off. "Im exhuasted." He said, trying to stifle a yawn. "Me too, I'm gonna head up for a shower." You replied and Sam nodded, "Alright, I'll see you later, chinese for dinner." You softly smiled and both walked to your seperate rooms, ready to wash off the paint and glitter encrusted into your skin. When you had given up on trying to remove all the glitter from your hair in the shower, you headed into your room and huddled under your duvet, wanting to catch up on some netflix before dinner. A knock at the door interrupted your series selection and you looked up to see Sam standing at your door, a small smile on his face. "Hey y/n." He said, closing the door behind him. "Hey Sammy, did you need anything?" You asked, confused why he looked so nervous. "Oh uh no, I just wanted to give you something." He replied, walking closer to you as you stood up and put your laptop on your cabinet. "Oh okay." You said, smiling under Sam's soft gaze. He handed you a sheet of paper and you frowned in confusion before turning it over and giggling. Sam rubbed the back of his neck nervously watching your eyes scan the drawing Gracie and him had made. "I know its stupid but I wanted you to have it." Sam said quietly and you looked up at his shy smile, "I love it." You grinned and he seemed to let out a breath of relief, "you can stick it on your fridge." You chuckled and rubbed your thumb over the drawing of you and sam standing together. "Thanks Sammy." The aforementioned soldier felt heat rise to his face and saw your eyes flick down to his lips. "Uh I should probably find Nat... see what she urm wants for dinner." You said awkwardly, trying not to focus on the way Sam was chewing his lip and the tight grey shirt he was wearing that unfairly showed off his chiselled chest and arms. "Oh right." Sam nodded, seeming to break out of a trance and opened your door, "I'll uh see you later yeah?" You nodded and he stepped out, looking at you one last time and giving you a small smile before disappearing down the corridor. You looked down at the drawing in your hand again and groaned, heart and muscles aching for you to run after the tall man and press your lips against his. Instead, you shut you door and walked to Nats room. When you knocked on her door, the red haired agent opened it with a knowing smirk on her face. "What's Wilson done now?" She asked and you groaned, stepping in to her room. You held out the drawing he gave you and Nat scanned it quickly before looking up at you in confusion. "Why have you got a drawing of you and Sam?" She asked, frowning. "He gave it to me." You sighed, causing Nat to laugh. "He gave it to you?" You nodded and Nat grinned, "wow he is so in love with you." You rolled your eyes at her sarcasm, "Wow thanks Nat. But seriously how am I meant to refrain from jumping his ass when he keeps doing adorable stuff like this?" Nat laughed and handed you back the paper, "You just need to go and tell him or you'll spend the rest of your lives dancing around each other and not doing anything about it." You sighed, "I know. But what if he doesnt like me back then I've just screwed up our friendship and the team dynamic." Nat nodded sympathetically, "I know it's scary but come on that man loves you to death and somehow everyone but you can see it." You looked down at the drawing again and nodded, "Fine, but if i end up dying on the spot from embarrassment after his rejection I'm blaming you." Nat rolled her eyes and pushed you out the door, shouting a 'good luck.' You nervously walked down the corridor and up the short staircase to the kitchen. Sam was leaning against the table, looking at something on his phone with a frown. Your heart instantly sped up and stomach did a hundred flips. You walked softly into the shared dining area and coughed lightly. At once, Sam looked up and smiled. "Urm I uh need to tell you something." You nervously stuttered, avoiding looking into his deep eyes. "Oh okay." Sam said, mind instantly running with negative ideas that you were hurt or he had done something wrong. "I urm well I... I think that you're urm." You looked up at him and his concerned eyes met yours. "Please could you uh turn around." Sam's face flitted with confusion, "wait what?" "I urm I cant talk with you looking at me like that." You said and Sam frowned but turned around. "Okay." He softly said, and you scanned his form, trying to build up the courage to tell him. "I guess I well I just want to say that I think you're the most lovely person in the world and I dont think that I could live without you Sam. You make me feel so comfortable and calm me down when I feel like the world is collapsing on me. You never fail to make me smile and I feel like the room lights up when you walk in. I love how kind and sweet you are to everyone but also how you make the stupidest jokes in the world and laugh your head off. I'm in love with you Sam and want to spend the rest of my life with you." You looked up to see Sam turning around to face you. You couldnt bear to meet his eye, knowing any possible friendship was now gone. A soft hand touched your cheek and lifted your head up, making your teary gaze meet his. "I'm in love with you too Y/N and I never want to leave your side." Sam pressed his lips against yours softly, making your heart stutter with happiness. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed your body against his, deepening the kiss as his hands squeezed your hips tightly. "Hey sam whens the chinese.... oh." Bucky said, his voice trailing off when he saw his best friend passionately kissing you. He wolf-whistled and chuckled, "Took you guys long enough." Sam broke apart from your lips, resting his forehead against yours, "Fuck off Buck." Bucky sniggered and walked out the kitchen again, hand raised in surrender. You opened your eyes to see Sam looking at you, "I love you." You spoke softly, "I love you too" before pressing your lips against his again and smiling into the kiss.

[oigimi]

.carriage-caused ecstasy.

. sub!mozart x reader . 1.5k words . NSFW!! MINORS DNI!! .

“Fantastic! Absolutely riveting!” a portly gentleman raved, accompanied by his wife and many, many other people behind him. They all crowded around your partner outside of the stage doors, singing his praises and begging him to perform again sometime soon. None of this was new or overwhelming to you, and especially not to Mozart. Since childhood the man had been praised by the masses for his work and swarmed after every show. He always handled the crowds with grace and poise, something you always had admired. How did he do it? How could one man go so long with this kind of attention and just… be used to it? It didn’t make sense to you, but it didn’t need to so long as the man whose arm you so lovingly attached yourself to could handle himself.

When the last spectator made his leave, you turned to Mozart who let out a deep sigh. “Endlich…” he grumbled, wiping his brow. You giggled, charmed by the man’s contrasts in personas. One moment he was beaming and affable, the perfect gentleman. The next, the classic Mozart that you had become so smitten with. The grumpy and haughty man with the energy to tease you for a whole week straight that hid his warm smile and tender heart from the whole world but you. As impressive and noble Mozart’s persona was, it was his true self you’d fallen for, and the version that you much preferred.

“We ought to get home soon. I can already see your eyelids falling,” you suggested, following Mozart back into the theatre to fetch his sheet music.

He scoffed, “Please,” as he gathered everything in the neat pile that it simply had to be in. “I can’t be here any longer.”

“You don’t have to be! Come on, I don’t know how much longer the coaches are gonna be out.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming.”

The carriage ride home had been a mostly pleasant one. At least, in your opinion it had been. Mozart never found carriage rides enjoyable. As much as you enjoyed holding onto him and talking for the duration of your trips, you couldn’t help but feel a twang of guilt knowing the reason why. There seemed to be a lot that made Mozart skittish, from carriage rides to self-playing pianos, he always seemed to need someone to hold his hand or reassure him. Not that he would ever admit it, of course. But he did seem to truly appreciate any attempts from you to quell his nerves.

This ride, you’d decided to sit on his lap. That way he could hug you like a pillow or a stuffed toy. He’d agreed to the idea, but very quickly into the ride did he discover that his choice had consequences, particularly between his legs. As you sat in his lap, bumping up and down with the carriage, he’d only gotten more excited. Your ass constantly rubbed against his crotch, teasing him with every move you made, whether you were conscious of it or not. God, was he getting more and more anxious as the ride went on. As his thoughts ran further and further into places that only made him harder, he had completely forgotten to be nervous during the ride.

By the time you’d gotten back to the little house Mozart had bought for the two of you, he was a red hot, primally aroused mess. He opened the door to your bedroom and made a beeline for the bed, watching intently as you undressed yourself for the night. You talked and talked, but the Austrian wasn’t registering anything, only every bounce that your body made; every which way your curves shifted. There was no denying it. Mozart knew there was going to be no way to ignore the stiffness he felt so intensely. But for whatever reason, be it simple fatigue from the concert or the sheer awe he found himself in, he couldn’t bring himself to command you to stay naked for him. To get on your back and open your legs, allowing him to relieve himself and make you sing for him the song that pleasured him in every degree of the word. He simply couldn’t do it, so he stood up to begin to change into his own night clothes.

“What’re you doing?” you’d suddenly asked, breaking Mozart’s racy trance. He looked up, covering his mouth. You hadn’t changed into your pajamas- you’d removed everything, and tied up your hair while you were at it. “Don’t think I didn’t feel your little friend on the ride home. You think you can hide your feelings from me? Silly boy.” You gently pushed him back down onto the bed, undoing his shirt with a sexy yet reassuring little grin. “It’s gotten harder, hasn’t it?”

“Liebling-!” Mozart whispered, his face and ears absolutely burning as he felt your gentle fingers graze across his skin.

“Shh… I can tell how tired you are. Let me do this for you. Please.” You finished undressing your partner, discarding his boxers to the floor. As much as you loved being beneath Mozart, subjecting yourself to every unpredictable yet methodic little touch he would give, there was just something about seeing him completely open on his back for you, ready for anything you could possibly do to him that turned you on like you’d never imagined. You bit your lip, feeling yourself quiver at just the thought of Mozart singing for you, the same way you did for him.

You stared into his eyes, longing for a definite answer. Eventually, he said nothing, but gave a surprised nod, trying to find his words. With a little giggle, you threw yourself on top of him, hungrily kissing and sucking on his lips. You arched your back when you felt him gasp and wriggle underneath you, relishing in every little squeak, every little moan that escaped his wet, delicious lips. And before you knew it, you were moaning too. Your tongue dominated your boyfriend’s mouth, and god did it feel good. “M-Mozart,” you whispered, pulling your lips away. Another small giggle escaped your mouth as you took in the sight of him hot and bothered, desperately awaiting your next move. You shook your head and laughed, “Naughty boy,” as you moved your lips to his chest. You planted kisses all over his body, licking and kissing his nipples whenever you came across them.

With every pleasured moan Mozart sang, you only found yourself wanting more. Suddenly, your lips on his body just wasn’t enough. You wanted more. You needed more. You rose up, angling yourself right above his heat. “Are you ready?” you whispered, your voice flavored with the rawness of carnal desire. Mozart gave a quick nod, and you sank down onto him without hesitation. He wasn’t necessarily large, but his long and thin member was enough to elicit a loud groan as it easily slid into you. You bobbed yourself up and down, going as fast as your hips would permit you. As you moved, the wetness between you and Mozart created a loud, shameless noise, accompanying your gasps and your partner’s cries of pleasure.

“Liebling! Oh, my Liebling!” he cried, slightly shifting his hips in time with yours. You looked up at the ceiling, and came to the realization that you could feel everything around you. The cold air made your skin crawl, Mozart’s moans made you wetter, and the combination of your hips thrusting and your breasts aggressively bouncing with every move you made created tears in the corners of your eyes. Tears made of pure ecstasy that easily fell out of your eyes and trailed down your body to where your juices were spilling.

“Mozart! I’m- I-!” you screamed, unsure of how much longer you could handle the overload of senses that engulfed you.

Fortunately, Mozart released as soon as your wails hit his ears. His white cum spilled out of you and onto the sheets as you lifted yourself, still panting as you made eye contact with your boyfriend. He was clutching the sheets and trembling in delight, unable to shift his gaze from you.

You gave him a small grin and asked, “Did you… did you like it?”

“Did I like it? Liebling, that was the most fantastic I’ve felt in a long time.”

“Was it?”

“You think I would lie to you?”

There he was again. The haughty man that you knew and loved. “No, you wouldn’t,” you chuckled, getting up out of the bed. “Come on, let’s take a shower together and go to sleep. You’re a lot more tired than I thought you were.”

Mozart smiled, following you into the bathroom. With a chaste kiss on your lips, he whispered, “Tomorrow, I’m getting you back…”

[emotionally-imbruised]

Santa Tell Me

“Don’t make me fall in love again if he won’t be here next year.” ❆

A/N: Oh wow, she actually wrote something. Who is she? HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYONE.

Word Count: 7k

A cool breeze drifted across the room, causing goosebumps to rise on Y/N’s exposed skin as she instinctively cuddled up against the warm body lying next to her. She tried to fall back asleep, but unfortunately, her thoughts refused such a luxury as she began thinking of how this really was the last place she should be.

She didn’t mean to spend the night, but after a few glasses of wine and a deep conversation instead of paying attention to the Christmas movie that played in the background, she was a bit more welcoming to the way Harry’s hand rested on her thigh; rubbing soft circles with his thumb before eventually leaning in to catch her lips with his. And she let him! God, why did she let him?

Y/N’s relationship with Harry was complicated, to say the least. The two of them have been friends for quite some time, however, things became a little difficult roughly a year and a half ago when they began sleeping with each other.

It started off casual, there were no strings attached whatsoever. The two of them were just good friends and single. One fateful night when she and Harry had gone out, he ended up at her apartment, with minimal clothing, and the rest was history. Well, kind of.

She wasn’t expecting to sleep with him for a second time after that… or a third… and most definitely not a fourth; but the universe has a funny way of working sometimes and soon enough, hers and Harry’s little arrangement became a rather common occurrence.

It was great, for a while. Although the two of them were quite literally just fuck-buddies, neither of them tried to really change the situation because they were both content with it. There was no labeling of what their relationship had become. They were both exclusively sleeping with one another, their friends were somewhat aware of what was going on but tended to stay out of it, and it just worked.

But then Y/N caught feelings.

She hated how easy it was to fall for Harry back then with his stupid smile and magnetic personality, but it was just so hard to avoid.  Especially seeing how being intimate with him seemingly brought out the significant feelings she felt towards him, regardless of how hard she tried to keep them hidden. But the thing was, it was almost as if Harry had caught feelings as well.

He was the one to address what happened after the first time the two of them slept together, even going as far as to blatantly say that he wouldn’t mind if it happened again. It was also him that hinted at Y/N being the only person he was seeing. He was still the kind, funny, sweet Harry that she knew and loved dearly as a friend; but this brought a whole new meaning to their relationship and they weren’t aware of how complicated things were bound to get.

Last Christmas was when everything started to fall apart. Y/N fell so hard for him and based on his very affectionate actions towards her, even when they weren’t just shagging, gave her the impression that he might’ve felt the same way. But for whatever reason, they were both too chicken to admit that they wanted more.

She had finally mustered up the courage to tell Harry that she loved him; but on Christmas Eve when she planned on actually telling him this, she never got the chance to do so.

He stood her up, to put it simply. The two of them had plans to go to a Christmas market together and while they were out, Y/N decided that she was going to tell Harry how she felt. She was pretty sure he knew about her feelings too and that made it even more nerve-wracking. However, after she arrived and waited for him for over half an hour without a text to say where he was, she went home and didn’t hear from him again.

The following day, all Y/N received was the obligatory Merry Christmas texts friends send to one another. Harry didn’t explain why he didn’t show, didn’t give any indication that he wanted to see her again over the holiday season, and she was too hurt to ask why. So, she let it be.

Then he jetted off to Japan and soon was caught up in the whirlwind of what it meant to be a celebrity. Which was fine. As his friend, she still rooted for him in everything he did, despite how stupid she felt for falling for one of her best friends.

The year came and went fairly quickly, and it was a rather significant one for Harry. Having co-hosted the met gala and putting the final touches on and beginning promo for his second album, it was no wonder he was so busy all of the time. Y/N was busy too, having immersed herself into work while trying to pan out what her future entailed and where she would end up.

Throughout the year, both Y/N and Harry remained in touch, which they were both extremely thankful for because of how they were such good friends, to begin with. What happened last year at Christmas was never addressed, and was kind of just dropped. Almost as if it didn’t happen. But then one night when Harry was back in London a few months ago, all of that changed.

She hooked up with him… again… and it soon began somewhat of a regular occurrence all over again. But this time she was careful. Y/N didn’t want to get hurt like last year because those feelings she had never really gone away, so she was a bit more hesitant on how often the two of them would shag.

Instead, she focused on hanging out and catching up with her friend because she really missed him this year with how busy he was; and luckily for her, Harry was seemingly ok with that.

However, that didn’t mean there wasn’t the odd slip up where one of them ended up in the others bed every once in a while... Kind of like what happened last night.

Harry was still dead asleep beside her, and Y/N’s want to just dip and never speak of this again was very prominent. There were only a few days left until Christmas and she needed to go into work that afternoon to finish up some last-minute things before she was off for the holidays, but leaving the nice warmth of Harry’s bed was proving to be rather difficult.

After a moment of consideration, she decided that she should use this time to escape. It would mean avoiding Harry, but she was pretty ok with that because no, she didn’t want to talk about what happened and as of late, it seemed like Harry has.

Letting out a sigh, she untangled herself from the sleepy hold Harry had around her waist and got out of the bed. She bit down on her lip as she took in the clothes skewed around the room before making a dash for the en-suite. If she showered at Harry’s, all she would have to do is run home and change before going into work. It was bound to save her some time, so she decided on that and stealing some over Harry’s oversized clothing instead of putting the previous night's outfit back on.

When Y/N took a look at herself in the large mirror above the vanity, a disgusted noise left her mouth. She looked rough, and the want to shower grew even more.

She quickly moved to the small cabinet and grabbed one of the large fluffy towels that resides within it so that she could wrap it around herself before brushing her teeth.

Yes, she had her own toothbrush at Harry’s. He had one at her flat too. It was something the two of them started years ago and just never weaned itself out. Whenever one bought a new toothbrush, they’d buy the other one too and put it in its respective place for them to use the next time they were over.

As Y/N ran some warm water over the brush before putting some toothpaste on it, she didn’t notice the presence of another being sneaking up behind her until she looked back at the mirror and locked eye contact with them.

“Holy shit!” She jumped, almost dropping her toothbrush in the process. “What the hell, Harry?”

“G’morning to you too,” he responded, sleep still lacing his voice as he walked up to the vanity to stand next to her.

He didn’t say anything else, just reached for his toothbrush and began brushing his teeth as if nothing happened. The two stood next to each awkwardly, each glancing at the other every once in a while and Y/N hated it. It was as though there was this huge elephant in the room separating them even though there was really only a couple of inches between them. So, as she finished rinsing off her toothbrush and waited for Harry to do the same, she slowly began stepping away from the vanity.

“I uh, I’m just going to take a shower if that’s alright? Then I’ll be out of your hair.”

He nodded in understanding before glancing I’m towards the door and biting down on his lip as if contemplating what he was going to say next. “You know you don’t have to leave, right?”

“What? Er- I, well.” His response caught her completely off guard and she wasn’t too sure how to respond. After a brief moment, she was able to recollect herself. “No, I do. I uhm, I have to go into work to finish up a few things before we’re closed for the holidays. Just a quick shower and then I’ll be on my way.”

Harry knew what she was doing, knew that she was trying to not discuss what happened between them the night before and avoid him as much as possible as a way to do so. He thought of a way to approach it but settled on just messing with her a little bit instead.

“Ok, I need to shower too.”

Without another word, he walked over to the large glass shower and reached in to turn the water on.

It didn’t take long for the warmth of the running water to create a steam-filled room and once Harry was done gathering a towel for himself, he finally made eye contact with Y/N from where she was standing in front of the mirror gawking at him in the reflection. A small chuckle escaped his mouth before he started removing the track pants he wore, all while not looking away; as if silently taunting her.

“I know what you’re doing and it’s not going to work,” she stated as she spun around to face him.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, love,” he replied innocently as he wrapped the towel around his waist before ridding himself of his boxers and stepping towards her.

“You’re trying to get me to shower with you.”

“M’trying to save on my hydro bill this month actually, but that doesn’t sound too bad either.”

She couldn’t think of a way to respond as he finally reached her, and gently linked their hands together. Harry was well aware that if he were to lead, she would follow. It worked both ways with them, seeing as he knew damn well of the lengths he would go for her... but it wasn’t the time to discuss that yet. He just wanted to be with her for a little while longer, so when he started walking towards the shower with her in tow, he decided that he’d use his time very wisely.

Once their towels were removed and they were under the warm running water of the shower, very few words were spoken between the two. Y/N wasted no time in being the first to wet her hair and start washing it, eventually switching places with Harry so that he could do the same.

Both would have been lying if they said there wasn’t an intense amount of sexual tension as their bodies brushed against each other with each movement, which Y/N tried greatly to ignore. She needed to get clean and leave; already feeling stupid enough to fall for his antics and join him in the shower at all but also very much so not wanting to change anything about her current predicament.

As she finished rinsing the conditioner from her hair and went to step out from under the water, her back came in contact with a sturdy force that she knew could be nothing other than Harry. Immediately, she turned around to face him. With the way he looked down at her, eyes sleepy and seductive, she knew that him standing that close was intentional, but still couldn’t help the tiny yelp that left her mouth as he leaned down to crash his lips against hers.

Her back soon came in contact with the cool tile wall the shower head was mounted on. That in contrast with the warm water that still poured on her and Harry, along with the firm grip he had on her waist, was all rather exhilarating. It didn’t take long for her to melt into the kiss, opening her mouth to allow him further access and tangling her hands into his hair.

Y/N smiled when he moaned against her mouth as a result of her tugging slightly on his dampened curls, feeling proud of herself for being able to get him as worked up as he manages to get her. His hands then began roaming, spending some time massaging each of her breasts before leaving a tingling trail of sparks as he moved them down to where she was throbbing to feel him.

“Harry-,” she gasped before he could do anything else, causing him to freeze. He leaned against her slightly and she felt his length against her. Felt just how hard he was with anticipation and although part of her wanted to reach down and help with that, her mind screamed at her not to as thoughts of what occurred a year ago started flooding her mind again. “Fuck, what are we doing?”

“M’not sure I know what you mean,” he mumbled before leaning down to latch his mouth and that sweet spot in the crook of her neck he knew would have her seeing stars. His hand then reached down to where she was basically dripping for him and rubbed a harsh circle on her oh-so-sensitive bud with his middle and ring fingers. Her knees buckled as she gripped onto him even more, and he made no effort to hide the smug grin he wore as he moved back to get a better look at her. “Seems like you’re enjoying whatever it is we’re doing.”

“I- I am,” she stuttered as his fingers continued their work and another gasp left her mouth just as his lips met hers hungrily.

“Then what’s the problem?”

She moaned against his mouth and felt herself fading into his touch again, loving him and how he made her feel. Then her eyes widened in panic as she realized what she just internally admitted to herself and began pushing him away.

“No, no. We can’t keep doing this,” she stated as she created enough space between the two of them so that she could worm herself around him and exit the shower.

“Y/N, wait,” he followed after her, only to be met with a towel coming in contact with his face after she chucked it in his direction.

“No, Harry! Last night shouldn’t have happened and neither should have the times before… I can’t keep being with you like this, not after what happened last year. I refuse.” Her voice cracked slightly at the last part of her statement as she worked on wrapping herself up in a towel again before turning to face him; eyes widening as she took in his still naked form. “For fuck's sake, please put on the towel would you?”

He fumbled with the item while reaching into the shower and shutting off the water before finally wrapping it around his waist, and stepping towards her. “Ok, ok. I, fuck, I don’t even know where to start Y/N. Please just stay and we can talk about this. All of it. We can talk about us…”

“There is no us, H,” she replied and Harry was sure he saw tears threatening to form in her eyes as she looked at him. “You ruined that last year when you just up and left without an explanation.”

“If you’d let me explain, I would be more than happy to,” he argued; becoming frustrated with how stubborn she was being.

“No, I have to go. I need to borrow some clothes to wear to my place so I can put something on for work. I’ll get them back to you somehow.”

“But-,” he wanted to try and reason with her but there was no point because in the next moment, she was rushing out of the bathroom and Harry knew better than to go after her.

Walking into the office, Y/N tried to avoid eye contact with her co-workers. It’s not that she didn’t get along with any of them, but her hair was still damp from the shower she just had and she very much so looked like she was coming from a place she shouldn’t have been.

She was overly frustrated with herself for staying at Harry’s longer than planned because, on top of everything that just happened between the two of them, she now had the attention of everyone in the office as she shamefully made a beeline for her desk. As much as she hated the thought, she knew she’d get grilled sooner rather than later.

“You look rough,” stated Candace, a fellow journalist and by far the best friend Y/N had made since starting work in that particular office.

“I really don’t want to talk about it C,” Y/N replied as she took off her jacket and sat at the desk next to her friend. “I’ve had a shitty morning.”

“I can tell,” she responded with a chuckle before spinning around and grabbing a still warm Starbucks cup from the tray located next to her. “You weren’t responding to my texts so I figured something was going on. Thought you could use a little pick-me-up.”

Y/N let out a thankful sigh of relief as took the cup from Candace’s hand and took a big gulp. “God, you’re a lifesaver.”

“I do what I can,” she chuckled and shook her head. “Boss woman is letting us go home early today once we’re done our piece for next week's column, but I just really want to know where it is you’re coming from and why you’re so salty because of it.”

“What makes you think I’m coming from anywhere in particular and that I didn’t just sleep in?”

“Well you are pretty much drowning in that hoodie you’re wearing, so I know it’s not yours,” she stated, causing Y/N to look down at her outfit and take in her pair of ripped jeans and Harry’s sweater she stole on her way out of his flat. “Is it a boy’s? Oh, it definitely is. You gotta spill.”

“I, well, this is Harry’s.”

“Like Harry Styles… as in your famous best friend,” Candace asked for clarification, a frown forming on her mouth when Y/N nodded. “Well damn, I thought I was going to get some juicy details about a guy you were sleeping with.”

Y/N stayed silent and shifted awkwardly in her seat.

“Wait… YOU’RE SLEEPING WITH HIM AGAIN?”

“Would you calm down!?”

“No, I can’t,” Candace replied and leaned closer so no one else would hear her losing her mind. “How? When did this happen?”

“It’s been off and on for a few months now,” Y/N explained with a shrug. “I’ve been wanting to just stop altogether because of what happened last year, but I don’t know.”

“You still like being with him, don’t you?”

“Of course I do. Pretty pathetic, right?”

“Not pathetic,” she stated. “Surprising, yes. I thought you didn’t want anything to do with him that wasn’t completely platonic after what happened last year.”

“I didn’t,” Y/N told her honestly. “But he sucked me right back in and I ended up falling harder than I did before.”

“Oh, to be in your shoes.”

“Shut up, I’m having an internal crisis over this whole thing.”

“I mean, you could always just tell him how you feel,” Candace told her with a wink. “Seems like a pretty easy solution to me.”

“Except it’s not.”

“Why is that?”

“Because what if he doesn’t feel the same and I just make a fool out of myself… again.”

Candace was about to respond to that but didn’t get the chance to when Y/N’s phone dinged with a new notification from her jacket pocket, causing them both to look in the direction the noise came from. “That’s him, isn’t it?”

“Even if it is, I’m not going to answer.”

“Quit being dramatic,” Candace scoffed and stood up from her chair. “I’m going to get some water and then we’re going to finish this article so we can get the hell out of here. Just respond to the man.”

Y/N knew she was being dramatic and although she was very hesitant in doing so, she reluctantly pulled her phone out to look at it.

Harry

Y/N, we‘re going to have to talk about this eventually.

Y/N

Doesn’t have to be any time soon.

Harry

I’d prefer if it was.

She stared at her phone for a second, debating on a response but didn’t bother writing anything as the typing bubble appeared on Harry’s side of the screen once again.

Harry

I owe you a trip to the Christmas market since we didn’t go together last year. Meet me there tomorrow night and we can talk?

Y/N

Are you actually going to show up this time?

Harry

Yes, I promise. Meet me there for say, 9pm?

Y/N

Ok.

Harry

Great. See you then. x

Y/N audibly sighed as she set her phone on her desk, but that soon turned into an internal groan when she heard a familiar voice call her name and looked up to see the literal last person she wanted to see walking towards her.

Connor was nice… enough. He was one of the I.T guys that helped around the office with any technical difficulties there may be, and also just so happened to be someone Y/N kind of, almost, hooked up with earlier in the year. It was a one-time thing. After continuously turning him down as a result of her relationship-ish type thing with Harry, he kept asking her out up until early spring when she finally agreed. They went for dinner, she had a mediocre time, then they made out before she denied his invitation to go back to his place and went home instead. The rest was history.

However, Connor didn’t see it that way.

She would continuously turn him down, but he kept coming on to her after that. Y/N was aware that she had not properly shut him down but just would come up with excuses as to why she was too busy and couldn’t go out with him instead, and hadn’t really got the chance to either. She didn’t want to tell him she wasn’t interested at work in front of everyone else, and she also didn’t want to tell him over text because both situations seemed pretty shitty. So, she kept on with the excuses.

“Uh, hey Connor!” She greeted with somewhat of a smile as he walked up to her desk and leaned against it.

“How’s it going?”

“Pretty good. Going to try to get my work done fast so I can get out of here ASAP. How about you? Any plans for the holidays?”

“Not really,” he explained. “I’ll go see my family on the 25th but that’s about it. Hey, listen, do you have any plans for tomorrow evening?”

And there it was. But at least this time, she didn’t need an excuse for turning him down.

“I do actually,” she told him. “I’m meeting a friend at the Christmas market.”

“I see,” he replied disappointedly.

Just tell him you’re not interested already, Y/N internally screamed at herself, but still couldn’t figure out a way to actually to just flat out tell him that; until she was struck with an idea.

“You know what,” she started. “Why don’t we meet up beforehand? There’s a little pub down the street from the market, we can meet there at around 8:30pm to grab a drink and… talk.”

“Yes!” He exclaimed, causing Y/N to jump as he pushed away from her desk and started walking away. “It’s a date, I’ll text you.”

“Wait no, it’s not a-,” she called after him, but there was no point as he rounded the corner and disappeared out of sight. “...date.”

“Oh, now you’ve messed up,” Candace’s voice sounded from behind Y/N as she walked back to her desk.

“No, I’m going to meet him for a quick drink and then let him down easy. Simple as that.”

“You sound pretty confident for someone who hates confrontation,” Candace scoffed. “Need I remind you how you’ve been avoiding talking to Harry for this exact reason.”

“Ok, no need to call me out like that,” Y/N whined and leaned back against her chair dramatically. “It’s going to be fine… I hope.”

“You and me both cause I’m sick of hearing about your dating struggles when I can’t even get a text back.”

“You want them? Take them. I’m over these struggles more than you are.”

“Whatever,” she chuckled. “Let’s finish this article and get the hell out of here so you can go home and prepare for the shitshow of a night you’re going to have tomorrow.”

“Thanks for the optimism, C. Don’t know what I’d do without you.”

The pub was busy for a Tuesday evening, much to Y/N’s dismay. It really shouldn’t have surprised her though seeing as it was Christmas Eve.

Not everyone goes home for the holidays, hell she was a prime example of that with how she didn’t have plans to go see her family until Christmas was over. Also, some people just don’t enjoy the time of year… which was fair. But Y/N still couldn’t help but wish she didn’t have to aggressively use her elbows just so she to get to the bar and order a drink, all while hoping no one would take her table once she stood up to do so.

Connor was late showing up, and she extremely annoyed over it. She was about to leave when she glanced down at her phone to see it was almost 9pm, but then she got a message from him saying he’d be there shortly and decided to wait. Her phone battery was dangerously low, so she sent a quick text to Harry saying she’d be a few minutes late and apologized before the device died completely and she had to sit in boredom until Connor showed up.

She wasn’t sure how much time passed when U + Ur Hand by P!nk started blaring through the speakers of the pub, mindlessly tapping her fingers along to the intro beat of the song until a group of obnoxiously loud men bursted through the front door. There were four of them, and Y/N couldn’t help but roll her eyes as they began yelling over each other, but then she noticed that Connor was amongst them.

He locked eye contact with her almost instantly, and soon he and his friends were on their way to her table.

“There she is,” Connor greeted as they approached, immediately wrapping his arm around Y/N’s waist and pulling her closer to him.

“Uh, hey,” she replied awkwardly while lowkey pushing him away, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable.

He then looked to his friends, nodding towards one that was giving him a pointed glance before shrugging and climbing up onto the stool next to Y/N. He unwelcomely rested his hand on her thigh, and she was quick in moving away from him again; easily smelling the alcohol that wafted off him and his friends. “Guys, this is Y/N. She’s the one I told you about.”

“She’s hotter than you described,” one of the guys slurred, causing Y/N’s face to scrunch repulsively.

“Yeah, you sure you don’t want to share?” Another said, and Y/N never felt more disgusted in her life.

“Woah, unnecessary comments guys,” she spoke up, becoming rather fed up with how they were acting.

“Yeah guys,” Connor scoffed and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “She’s mine, back off.”

“Connor, m’not-,” she started and turned to look at him as she said this, but was suddenly cut off by his lips crushing against hers. Her eyes widened in alert as she quickly pushed him away and stood up from her seat. “Ok, you know what, I’m gonna go. I wanted to talk to you about something but it looks like I’ll just have to tell you at work when you’re not drunk.”

“Oh come on, don’t be like that,” he replied conceitedly as Y/N started putting on her jacket. “Quit playing hard to get.”

“Hard to get?” She looked at him as if he grew a second head. “What the hell makes you think I’m playing hard to get?”

“Well, it’s pretty obvious, Y/N. Why else would you make up such bullshit excuses to not go out with me after we hooked up a few months ago.”

“First off, we didn’t hook up. We kissed. Second, did it not occur to you that maybe I’m not interested because you’re an arrogant asshole?”

Connor’s friends ooh’d and began mumbling to one another as he looked at her offendedly. “That’s not the only reason. You and I both know that.”

“Excuse me?”

“I heard you and Candace talking about how you’ve been sleeping with that famous friend of yours again,” he explained and Y/N immediately felt the need to defend herself. “Harry what’s-his-face. Thought that after he left you last year you’d get over the idea of thinking he’d want anything to do with you.”

He can’t be serious, she thought to herself as she tried to figure out what to say to that. She was absolutely furious and all his friends did was laugh, feeding her anger even more. As she racked her brain from something to reply with, the bridge of P!nk’s song began and Y/N glanced down at her still half-full glass of vodka cranberry, before picking it up and throwing the contents at Connor’s face.

“Fuck you. You don’t know anything about my relationships with others and are in no place to comment on them,” she stated firmly as she slung her bag over her shoulder. “At least Harry doesn’t treat me or anyone like they’re just part of a conquest in order to get a good shag. He’s a genuine being and is worthy of my time, it’s no wonder I’ve fallen for him as badly as I have. You, on the other hand, are the worst type of person and I really hate that it took me this long to realize it. Don’t bother speaking to me ever again, especially at work because I will cause a scene. Have a terrible night, you fucking jerks.”

And with that, she stormed out of the joint without looking back. Part of felt stupid for blowing up on Connor, but a bigger part kept thinking of how he deserved it.

Once she was out in the cool winter air, she let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding and started walking down the street towards the market. She was still livid, but just the thought of being near Harry put her mind at ease a little bit.

As she walked through the market's entrance she saw that no one was taking tickets and it was much emptier than she was expecting. Owners of the stands scattered all around the area that sold food and Christmas trinkets had packed up and all seemed to be heading home.

“What?” Y/N mumbled to herself before approaching a lady who was busy counting money from a till. “Hi, excuse me. Do you know what time it is by chance?”

“It’s after 9:30pm, dear. The market is closed.”

Shit.

“Oh, ok, thank you.”

It felt like Y/N’s heart plummeted into the pit of her stomach as she thoughts about Harry probably thinking she stood him up entered her mind. She grew even more frustrated over what went down with Connor and how it made her so late, as well as the fact that she couldn’t even call Harry and apologize for not showing up.

Because the thing was, she decided that she wanted to. She spent the 24 hours leading up to the moment, hyping herself up and was ready to talk things over with Harry. She planned on admitting her feelings and expressing how what happened on Christmas Eve the year before really hurt her. Regardless of the outcome, she was ready to put herself out there for him, and then she felt like she lost that chance.

She was hopeful for a few moments, thinking that maybe Harry was still wandering around somewhere. But the further she walked into the market, the less populated it became, and that hope soon faded.

The lights were pretty at least. Y/N really enjoyed looking at them as she continued on her stroll through the area. There was an entire wall that was covered in twinkling lights, that continued upwards and hung over the cobblestone path she was walking down. That along with the light snow that was falling from the sky made feel warm and fuzzy inside as she took it all in; smiling to herself as she stopped to look up at the flakes coming down before continuing on.

Lastly, she came to a stop at the base of the huge Christmas tree that was located in the centre of the market. It seemed different from how it looked the year before with its lovely blue decorations, but she just couldn’t figure out how it differed as she was observing.

A Michael Bublé Christmas song played from a loudspeaker nearby as she continued staring at the tree and thought about how she waited in that exact spot for Harry a year prior. She felt rather silly thinking about it now, but she shrugged it off and decided that she should probably stop gawking at the tree just head home.

“I don’t like the ornaments they used this year,” a voice suddenly spoke up from behind her. “Sure, the blue is nice. But I liked the red ones they used last year much more.”

Caught off guard by the person standing behind her now, Y/N was hesitant on turning around to face them. But once she did, it felt like the wind was knocked right out of her.  

“Harry?”

“Didn’t think you could get rid of me that easily, did yeh?” He asked with a large grin.

“Of course not,” she responded with just as big of a smile. “Listen, I’m so sorry for being late. I know you wanted to talk, and I did too but-.”

“Who said we still don’t have the chance to talk?” He questioned with a skeptical look. “I’ve got all the time in the world when it comes to you, darling.”

Y/N sighed, inwardly melting at his choice of words but also becoming completely overrun with nerves all of a sudden.

“I don’t even know where to start, H.”

“Then let me start,” he said and stepped towards her. “Leaving you last year was a huge mistake on my part. I knew how you felt and had come to terms with how I felt as well, but then when I got here and saw you standing under the tree like you are now, I chickened out.”

“Wait, what?” She asked surprised. “You were here?”

“I was,” he nodded and pointed to a corner of a nearby building. “When I got here, I was already so late. There were still a lot of people around and I didn’t even think I’d find you. But then I saw you standing pretty much right where you are now. You were completely mesmerized by the tree, just taking it all in like you do every year. I remember you saying beforehand how much you loved the ornaments they used because of how pretty they were. They’re different this year.”

“So that’s what seemed off about the tree this year,” she replied and glanced back at it. “That was uhm, very observant of you. But if you came all this way, why didn’t you tell me you were here?”

“Like I said, I got scared,” he answered and immediately captured her attention again. “Seeing you was when it hit me. It was when I realized just how much I love you.”

Her breath hitched at his words, and she could feel a blush forming on her cheeks that most definitely wasn’t just from the cold air, but she played it off quickly as she stepped towards him and smacked his arm. “Why didn’t you say anything!?”

“I didn’t know how! I panicked…”

“What did you panic about if you knew I felt the same?”

“I was worried about what I’d put you through,” he explained with a sigh. “M’not an easy person to be in a relationship with Y/N. I’m either coming or going all the time, and as much as I’d love to just stay in one place; it’s very hard to do that sometimes. You have your whole life here and I thought I’d interfere with that.”

“You’re stupid sometimes, you know that? I wouldn’t have cared about that, Harry.” She told him while shaking his head. “How would we know things would or wouldn’t work out if we didn’t try?”

“That’s exactly what I thought after I left. I immediately regretted leaving you there, but I thought it’d be easier that way. I know you despise confrontation as much as I do, and it just seemed easier at the time. Once I was gone, I was terrified that you’d want nothing to do with me and hated the thought of losing you over me being a coward, but I didn’t lose you. You were always still there even after I did something so shitty, and honestly, it made those feels I had grow more intense.”

“But you still didn’t say anything.”

“When we first started… you know... seeing each other again at the end of summer, I wanted to,” he stated. “But I still couldn’t figure out how. After me just leaving you last year, I didn’t think you’d want anything more than what we were doing. I was just glad to be with you and was willing to take whatever I could get, and those feelings all came crashing back. Then yesterday when you were over, I thought maybe I’d finally admit how I felt then; but you left and I thought I lost my chance.”

“So then you wanted to tell me today?” She asked softly. “And I basically stood you up.”

“No, I didn’t think that at all,” he told her while brushing away a snowflake that landed on her cheek. “When you texted me saying you were running late, I still waited around. But then it was getting chilly so I walked down the street to a little pub so I could warm up a bit. You were there.”

“Wait, so you saw…”

“And heard everything,” he nodded. “I don’t need to hear about that other guy cause thinking of how he treated you back there will piss me off. I was about to step in to be completely honest, but I should’ve known you could handle yourself.”

“Gee thanks,” she chuckled and shook her head. “But that also means you heard me say-.”

“That you’ve fallen for me? Yeah, I liked hearing that part. Made me less nervous about my want to do this.”

Without another word, he leaned down to place the most delicate kiss on her lips. There was no hungry lust behind it like there had been when they had kissed before, just pure admiration and affection; Y/N melted into it right away.

She pouted a little bit when he moved away, but then he pulled her into a tight embrace and instantly felt better. The two of them stood there for a moment, just basking in each other’s presence; her cuddling into his chest and him resting his head on top of hers as they swayed to the music that still played. It was a quiet song, the ending instrumentals of it played before the upbeat intro of the Jonas Brothers’ Like It’s Christmas started playing and Harry started chuckling.

“What’s so funny?” Y/N asked as she pulled away slightly to look up at him.

“Nothing,” he smirked and leaned down to give her another peck. “It’s just that you really do make every day feel like it’s Christmas.”

“You’re so sappy.”

“Don’t act like you don’t love it.”

“I guess I do,” she told him honestly as he linked his hand with hers and started leading her away from the tree. “Where are we going?”

“Home. Want to spend this Christmas with yeh.”

“I like the sound of that,” she replied while cuddling up against him as they began their trek home.

The two of them made it back to Harry’s flat and neither of them could stop smiling. They just loved the feeling of finally being together properly and although Y/N was set on not falling in love during Christmas again, this time around she wasn’t worried about him not being there the following year, or all the ones after that too.