#not to be negative but i hope he gets his ass whipped off

[aconflagrationofmyown]

but then…Gigi

Part 4 - A Big Daddy Elvis Fanfiction

Previous chapter link for context, picking up where we left off

I owe so much thanks to my friends for all their help and input and the joy they bring me, thanks to them and my precious followers this fluffy/wacky little universe even exists. I’ve never had so much fun on a collaboration before in my life, I love y’all so.

Warnings: 18+, sexual content and heavy themes… ok so this is smutty and fluffy, right? But still there are some things that might be offensive regarding narrator’s voice so I want to warn about those and distinguish them from my own opinions. For much of this part we are in Elvis’ head and, due to it being summer of ‘77 -it’s a bit of a rollercoaster in there. Please be warned there are throwaway lines reflecting poor self esteem, depression, misogyny, severe health issues and the use of the word fat to describe oneself negatively.

Enjoy

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Elvis feels a pang of sympathy for his boys’ hysteria when he runs into a crowd of fans as he himself sits panicked in the Stutz, engine off and his shades on, watching Gigi check that the coast is clear on the sidewalk and buzz into her apartment building -in just his jacket and panties. Her sandals are gone somewhere, too, probably back at Graceland. Only that anklet left on like some harem jangle.

Her sooties must be burning on the sunbaked concrete, maybe that’s why she’s skipping everywhere she goes like a damn foal. His blood pressure feels like it’s skyrocketing just watching this show and the fact she looks like she’s in her element terrifies and excites him and -getting to know Gigi is a dangerous hobby.

As shameless as a toddler that one, and every bit as unpersuaded about needing to give a shit about things like flashing her butt cheeks for all of Memphis.

Her tanned butt cheeks.

Which brings up all sorts of questions he’s too scared to ask and will have to address with Tammy. He’s sure she’s to blame for nude sunbathing, he just hopes that wildcat has enough decency to do it privately. Very privately. Hopefully in a bullet proof bunker if Gigi is with her. This girl has been directionless and fatherless for too long; Elvis’ mouth dries out in anticipation of being that guiding, molding, firm hand in her life -the rest of his body too sedated to respond normally although he feels that weird ass dribble his pecker has recently started to do when it’s very much willing but can’t physically swell to poke a gal. He thoroughly regrets not wearing underpants to catch some of this… horny… pre-cum…incontinence…the baby blue of his tracksuit showing a small stain on his leg. Just the size of a penny. Maybe a quarter.

He takes his glasses off and rubs at his sweaty eyes.

Gigi is standing in the opened doorway, waving him in with a huge, expectant smile on her face, and feeling something he hasn’t felt since 1955 sneakin’ into Barbra’s room, he lumbers out his side of the car and doesn’t even bother to make sure no one’s looking, even though she whipped her head around to clock their surroundings like top paid security for his sake. If someone sees and thinks he’s going into a college girl’s dorm to corrupt her then they’d be right, and it'll make far prettier gossip than what’s coming out in Red’s book next month.

He slips past her and she runs her hand along his chest as he goes by, giddy and fond. She waves to someone behind his back,

“Hey Paolo! Good afternoon!” Elvis turns just in time to see an old shriveled man in an undershirt waving wildly at her as the door shuts.

“Who’s that?”

“Our repairman. Sweetest little man.” Gigi gushes and Elvis motions for her to lead the way up the stairs while speculating with nauseating surety on what Gigi might be found wearing -or not wearing- when dear sweet shriveled perverted Paolo makes up a problem with her sink and comes into her apartment. “He’s taught me how to make Limoncello jello! You won’t find anything more refreshing!”

“How very epicurean for a regular, ole handyman.” he can’t help but grumble, usually highly self-aware and unbiased for the potential learnedness of common folks. He knows he’s one. But right now he wants to make a carpet from Paolo’s nose hair.

“What does epicurean mean?” Gigi doens’t without missing a beat as she unlocks her own front door.

Now they’re back on solid, Elvis-worthy ground, he can smile indulgently as he enters her space and explain, “Somebody who likes to in-duuulge in the luxurious and the sensuuaal, it was a whole philosophy.”

“Oooh, that explains why I didn’t understand.” she giggles, “I’ve flunked philosophy twice and I’ve got a whole pile of papers over there that’s supposed to be homework but a hero of mine invited me to go swimming at his place so, there they sit!” she shows off a rather alarming stack of papers next to the poorly made up bed, half hidden by the swim suits and cut offs strewn about the carpet. “Sorry for the mess, a lotta the girls got ready over here and wrecked it. Half of it is mine though, you should’ve seen the things they suggested I wear for you! Thongs, Elvis! Actual thongs! And here I was unsure if you felt just fatherly towards me or what so I- I didn’t wear a thong.”

Elvis takes a seat on her bed since he figures they’re now past being modest about what they’re gonna do and asks, “What’s a thong?”

“You don’t- it’s this sorta thing.” Gigi is a little shocked that this man of the world doesn't know such a thing and spins around a few times before finding a very small scrap of fabric and bending over, she picks it up. Elvis forgets what she was getting off the floor for a few minutes before she starts spreading the fabric strings apart and pronouncing, “This is a thong!”

Elvis squints his eyes as if trying to see a ship on the edge of the horizon or something, “I don’t get it.” he says at last, “How’s it work? Go around your neck?”

“No, silly!” she giggles even harder in shocked exasperation, “It’s panties.”

“No way in hell.” he sounds awed, “No way, how in tarnation does that work?”

“They’re like…very little, small, tiny panties!” she explains with a hyped tone as if the more enthusiastic she is the quicker he’ll get the mechanism.

“That -those ain’t gonna hold or cover nothin’.” he insists, “Now you’re the one pullin’ my leg.” he notices there’s a magazine with his face on it stashed under the teetering bedside lamp and makes mental note of that before leaning back against her massive stuffed bear.

“They’re not supposed to work, they’re supposed to be sexy?” she tries again before playfully putting them on her head and striking a pose.

“Sexy, hmm?” he rumbles, his eyes twinkling and she knows she’s got his interest at least, whether he’s fibbing ignorance on knowing about thongs or not, she can’t tell. Suddenly it strikes her that Elvis Presley himself is lounging on her bed, leaned against the stuffy she grinds herself on to the thought of him pretty regularly. Suddenly having his jacket zipped at all feels oppressive from the rush of heat that sight floods her with.

“If they were for comfort we’d just go without.” she laughs, “They dig up into your…” she looks about before dropping her voice and taking a couple steps closer to him, “butt crack.” she blushes furiously at having to name it and his fingers itch to do unspeakable things to this little girl.

“Show me.” he says, low and steady and a little removed, just cool enough to be commanding, just warm enough to make her feel (very) admired. He sees her sweet blush turn into droopy lidded arousal before his very eyes and with meek acceptance she hooks her fingers into her swim bottoms without a pause.

They drop to the floor in a nylon puddle between her legs. Just like that. Simple as that, her bare little pussy lips are peaking out from his jacket at him and she smiles gently at his shock as she hooks her legs through the thong’s leg holes and shimmy’s the stupid excuse for lingerie up her stems. “It’s just you, daddy.” she explains in a confidential whisper that melts his heart.

“Yeah, jus’ f’me, baby girl.” he makes a pronouncement of his own, hushed and boyish and her own heart feels too big for her chest at the way his blue eyes somehow soften in wonder at her exposed self. She had expected something rougher, ravenous, impetuous. Not this revenant appreciation that bends his whole frame towards her with open mouthed puffs of longing. He aches, wishing he’d brought his Polaroid to snap this memory forever, add it to his collection. A little something tangible he could thumb at it in the future and remember this night when an terribly hot, painfully young, big tittied woman had wanted him.

“Will ya do a lil spin f’me? Wouldn’t want that wedgie to go unappreciated, now would we? So sweet to try it on for me.” he coos and then hums deep and appreciative as she does a couple slow spins for him, that humm she’s only ever heard in amplified concert footage sending sparks to her very toes.

“You like them?” she asks, toes curling in nervousness for his verdict.

He lounges back and strokes his mouth a few times while cocking his head to the side. She’s breathing so heavy he thinks if he even blew on her she’d come. “They’re practical.” he decides definitively.

“Are they?” she sighs with relief.

“Mhmm,” he mumbles soberly, “quite. For what we’re up here to do, they’re practical.” he adds this slowly and doesn't miss her shudder or the way her eyes light up in relief that they’re getting to the point. He likes that she’s letting him lead, she’s a good girl. “Step closer baby.” he stays lounging so she does all the work and when she gets to the edge of the bed he keeps motioning with his fingers until she’s kneeling on it herself, clambering forward over his lap. “See, when a man makes a meal of a lady’s lil garden, s’real important to have unrestricted access.” he proves his point by slipping his index finger along that abominably small seam of fabric that’s poofy and filled out with bare labia lips.

“Daddy.” she wails at the contact, shaking apart already and that along with her little place has his head thudding some kinda way. She’s gripping onto his neck, near clawing whatever part of him she can grab, close to tears again like a child not getting what she wants. The art of the tease seems lost on her, she’s so hungry.

He’s gotta ask. “Honey, y-yo- honey you ain’t actin’ younger for my sake, are ya?”

“Oh no,” her face turns down again and he’s done it again, insulted her somehow, “you find me immature?”

“No!” he shouts and then tries to moderate himself, “No, no it’s jus’ that -you’re a baby, thas all.”

“Well,” her grin is guileless, “you’ll just have to bear with me, big daddy, I’m all so excited I’ve got Elvis Presley in my room! Elvis Presley! You’re Elvis Presley.”

“I-I-I am.” he admits, perturbed, “What’s wi- why Big Daddy?”

“Cause that’s what you are!” She says it like she’s assuring a pageant queen she won the prized title. “Elvis Presley’s about to eat my pussy.” she murmurs to herself as she kicks her feet and he recalls yet again that he is sat down on her fluffy pink bed for a reason. He tips her over into the sheets.

“So uh, you’ve thought of this before, hmm?” he smirks slyly and reaches out to clasp an ankle in his big, ringed hand, his tanned digits encircling it entirely and he thumbs at the veiny soft spot beneath the ankle.

Gigi moans at his slight pressure.

“That’s a pressure point for the reproductive system, did you know that sir?” she is as eager about information as he is, and clever too.

“So that’s why all the girls lose it.” he hums with a laugh, “No, Gigi, I didn’t know tha’, you like gettin’ rubbed?”

“YES!” she sighs so loudly it’s like a little wind tunnel through the room, “Though it doesn’t happen much.” That makes his heart hurt in sympathy and he adds his other hand to knead her toned calf, those legs of hers spreading jello, just like he calculated they would, “I love to rub folks though! Love givin’ people rubs.”

“Who do ya rub?” Elvis is cross at this new information.

“Oh, anybody who needs it!” she makes it worse.

“Lotta demand for that at Uni?”

“Yeah, so many sore athletes after games.” she is perfectly sober about it, while so enthused he wants to murder every person those sweet hands have descended upon in soothing kindness. “But I think you’re the best I have ever had do it to me, oh Lord you’ve got magic in those hands.”

He’s tempted to tell her how true that statement is but he can’t bear her laughing at him right now so he leans further across the bed and inches towards her knees with his squeezes and tries to elicit more of those moans.

“Oh god I can’t believe Elvis Presley is rubbing my legs.” she gasps again to the ceiling and it’s this youthful narration of her life happenings that makes him think of his Yisa and if he could he’d put both of these little darlings back into their fragile eggs to keep them away from the cruel world.

“So, you done thought of this before, baby girl?” he asks, casting a little smug look over at that ponderous stack of his records and the TV set stationed right at the foot of her bed. He knows the answer already, thanks to Tammy, but it nags him, the question of which Elvis she was touching herself to after her first visit to his house. Her closed eyes and near drooling mouth give him the idea that if he’s good enough at this, puts enough effort into being what he used to be naturally, she can keep those pretty eyes closed and he can morph back into whatever daydream she’s once had. He could give this pretty little girl a little time capsule and before she’s fully awake, slip away again, leave before she recalls it was the gift of an old man, his potency gone to seed but his love for women and their secret parts just as strong.

He bends over, gut digging into his diaphragm and knocking out his wind, presses a kiss to the inside of her knee. “Tell’me ‘bout when you thought of me.” he murmurs into her warm skin. He notices he leaves goosebumbs in the wake of his touch.

“Mmm?” she’s goners with just this firm kneading of her limbs, breathing heavy and sedated from lust.

“Have ya thought of me when you’ve played with yourself?” he’s a little sterner than he should be, just because he knows the answer and wants an honest reply.

“Oh yes.” she gives it, unabashed.

“Is it my movies? Ya watch my movies when ya touch y’self?” he prods, working up to that baby soft stretch of inner thigh that still seems like the most fragile of all God’s creation, like cotton Candy holding ligament and muscle together by some miracle. “Or ya prop up that record right there?” he pulls his head up long enough to point at the foremost record cover in the stack -Live From Madison Square Garden, it reads, and features him silhouetted against black, crouched in a white jumpsuit.

A more mature option; interesting.

Gigi opens her eyes and cranes her head to see what he’s pointing at. “Oh, yeah, sometimes that one,” she nods, “it’s the closest thing I could find.”

“Closest to what, the genuine article?” he snickers in judgment, “It’s goddamn cardboard, at least watch a movie like a normal pervert.”

“The closest to how you are now!” she pouts adamantly, “You’re so…smooth… in all your movies. Nothing like how I know ya when you drive past on the street.”

Well, that’s something else, even if Elvis doesn't quite get what that something is. It’s absurd, the fact she existed all along on some sidewalk he sped past. “How’s that now, honey?” he asks.

“I couldn’t find anything closer to what you are now!” she explains, “Nothing since Aloha and -well I like that one, don’t get me wrong but I,” she bites her lip and a skittish flinch settles into her eyes.

“What about that one, darlin?” he begs softly.

“Well I like how hairy and strong ya look but,” she doesn’t look down or away when she gets to her point, instead she bends forward to be nearer to him, to hold his hands as they lay on her legs, to peer into his eyes gently, “you seem too sad in it for me to -to use it like that.”

He’s touched, so much so he swallows hard and dips his head to kiss her knobby little kneecap. “T-that were a rough time in my life.” he admits and his voice has gone wrecked. It is odd beyond words how he feels like she’s a child to be protected but just like a child at a sleepover he can duck under the covers and admit his worst fears to her.

It all goes back to being proportionally heartbreaking as Gigi leans forward and makes him lean back, clambering methodically back into his lack as if she owns the damn space, holding his furry cheeks tenderly as she licks those luscious lips and slots them against his. This he is familiar with, nothing odd at all about this age old ritual of him being seductively depressed and a girl soothing it away with her tongue and hands in his hair.

He allows himself the liberty of stroking her bare back beneath his jacket, figuring if he’s gonna lick beaver he might as well do a little seducing beforehand, cherish her like she deserves, give them both the works. As much as he can give with this dull headache and the meds making him feel so leaden he could fall asleep in seconds. He takes a breath and tries to clear his head, focusing on kissing her well, kissing her better than any of those stupid young jocks ever managed.

Back at making a case to her that he could make her happy. He doesn’t know why he keeps trying that argument when a couple decades worth of broken hearts and homes behind him suggest otherwise.

“Wanna see what I used to pretend it was you?” she tempts against his lips as they surface for air, sounding so demure yet utterly unrepentant even as she confides, “After you petted me and sent me home I needed you so bad, couldn’t find anything that felt like you now, so I shut the tv right off. Grabbed my stuffy ‘cause he was fuzzy and had a belly like you and then I grabbed…here, wait here, don’t you move now!“

Her little butt is already bouncing out the room into the en-suite before she finishes the sentence and he is left to sit on the bed and await her return, processing the fact she had wanted hair and a corpulent figure.

Bizzare taste, definitely dealing with father issues, painfully sweet.

He groans in recognition that she’s entirely to his own taste.

She comes back holding the most bulbous bottle of shampoo he’s ever seen in his life. The size of his damn fist easily, bright yellow and shaped at the top like like a lemon an- hell it’s even named “Lemon-Something-Or-Other”.

“I used this!” she proclaims with a giggle that jiggles her whole body.

Elvis just stares, torn between impressed and horrified. “You’re tellin’ me that…thang…fit up your lil cooch?”

“Well, no,” she admits, mood immediately deflating in disappointment with herself, “but I’m working on it! Or maybe I don’t have to, now that I’ve got the real thing, as you call it!”

Gigi bites her lip and winks in an attempt to be seductive and it’s the most ludicrously jarring thing Elvis can imagine, he roars with laughter at her art of being a cock tease without trying and a total clown when she does try.

Oh fuck he’s in love. Yeah, already established that awhile back but, it’s just, it’s hitting him again.

“I think you’ll find the real thing a bit disappointin’ by comparison.” he wheezes, too amused to be insecure.

“Oh really?” she perks up in palpable relief, “Oh thank jesus! That thing’s huge and I was gonna try for you but- but -but it’s huge! And I was just gauging from what I saw floppin’ around in your tracksuit that night and I was trying to not be obvious, so I couldn’t exactly clock it real good but it looked awfully wide, like a paper towel roll when it’s halfway gone and this was the only thing I could find like it, I wasn’t going to use anything of Tammy’s and besides they weren’t fat either so I just…” She trails off with a shrug, still standing there before him holding the fuckin’ Lemon Drop Shampoo.

She’d tried not to be obvious, she says, but he’d caught her staring well below his belt half a dozen times in two days. “So,” Elvis is still wiping the tears of amusement from his eyes, “so ya used a shampoo bottle and a teddy bear.”

“Yeah.”

“And did it work?” his eyes darken at the prospect of hearing her tell him this naughty story.

“Sorta.”

“How can it ‘sorta’ work?”

“I came,” Gigi sighs, “but I felt so empty..after. Cried myself to sleep” her embarrassed giggle does not deceive him from the certainty that she’s telling the truth.

“Oh baby, what’re we gonna do with you?” he asks her and God Almighty all at once.

“Hold me, please?” she whispers.

“Course, baby. Nothin’ I’d rather do, get over here,” He holds out his arms and she cruises in at a deceptively fast speed, colliding back into his chest and tucking her face into the crease of his neck, she’s pressing kisses there into that sweaty fold and he rubs her back, traces the dip of her waist, the slow curve outwards of her hips, thumbs at the flimsy material of her panties. Feeling her soft skin and treasuring it. Wondering what she’s thinking and not knowing she’s thanking God she gets to be held by him.

“You make feel so safe.” her breath ghosts over his face and he’s not sure how it’s so fresh and lovely after scarfing down burgers and cherry coke but he can’t get enough and he grabs her face as gently as he can manage with this much wonder filling him in a rush.

He’s pretty sure she ain’t ever had a chance to kiss with tongue, she’s eager to slip hers in but she’s got that petrified immobility of a gal who’s never gotten the chance to give and take, just give while some stupid rash boy slobbers and knocks her teeth.

Elvis is quite good with his tongue.

He flicks at her tongue, he waits, taps her butt until she gets his prompt. She flicks. He trails it alongside her own, he waits. He taps. She mimics. They get a good commerce going and soon she’s squirming and writhing in his lap while he stays put, his patience and experience a buoy for her as she flounders with so much desire she doesn’t know how to cope beyond undulating against him and tugging at his hair, their mouths wide and uncaring, devouring.

It’s fun with a girl leveraging down on him from his lap, one might think it would put him at a disadvantage but it doesn’t, he turns her silly head with a firm hand at the nape of her neck, and she’s just a dolly up there for him to work against his mouth. Rather like how he’s gonna work her pussy if they make it that far. For now, there’s this age old dance and her pretty breaths.

He sucks her tongue and she lets out a cry that’s distorted by the absence of any control over her own tongue and suddenly he can feel her move more frantically, fumbling between them until he hears the zzzz of the zipper as she undoes her jacket front and frees her full breasts like the thin cloth was suffocating her. It becomes clearer what she needs when she continues to fumble between them, unsatisfied, until he feels his own taught closure opening and the fan air hits him and goosebumps spread and shame flares and then it’s unity. Their chests meeting, pressing, soft and warm and she shudders against him like she just touched a force field.

She mewls into his mouth again and traces his puffy lips with the tip of her tongue while he breathes. “Feels so right.” he realizes in a mumble.

“Mhmm.” she says as she presses more kisses to his panting mouth. Gigi reaches between them once more and he watches cross eyed from the closeness as she hefts one boob up and presses it between them more firmly, before repeating the procedure with the other until, until they are smashed to her satisfaction. Then she starts grinding, those fat titties of hers, against him with the rest of her- against his hairy, saggy man boobs, she’s dragging her nipples across him and worrying them red with his rough texture, her toes curling from the friction. Her nipples are pebbled and she’s crying out, can’t stop moaning or calling for God because he feels so good against her. Cradling her boob her fingers press selfishly against one of his own nipples and lil Elvis wants to fight against his induced state, desperate to twitch for this pretty girl’s attention. “Oh god, you’re so hairy, like a nest! So perfect and manly and, I’m gonna, let me, let me please, please oh god, feels so good!” she’s working herself up to a squealing frenzy going over one particular patch of ratted curls… from…rubbing her pretty nipples on his chest hair.

Elvis just sits there and computes, watches, like a green boy, Gigi’s cradled boobs, her gaping mouth, her long throat and her cramping widdle sooties. God, what he’d give to suck those curling little piggies.

He’s hot as a furnace, this man, and those coarse, wiry curls are zapping her already throbbing nipples until Gigi can’t seem to breathe, so much sensation crowding her senses but not where she needs. She grinds down on him, where they’ll join so perfectly, and she feels that perfectly fat cock of his wedged on top of his thick thighs that he can’t manspread for once with her on top of him. She reaches down and positions him through the silky track bottom until she can slide along, feeling the width of him parting her pussy lips even with the thong’s fabric obstructing. His pants are sticky to touch, even though he feels too heavy and floppy to be fully hard.

Elvis should kiss her again. Warn her he ain’t good for nothin’ before she gets her hopes up and he gets to humiliate himself like some useless old fuck.

“Daddy, daddy fill me up, daddy.” she beats him to it in the prettiest little beg he’s ever heard.

“Oh Gigi.” he groans compassionately before grabbing her hand and bringing it up away from his messy lil pecker, “I’s gone lick you, don’t you recall?”

“Yes but I’m past that, I need you inside me!” she gasps, grin growing by the second.

“Ah, yeah, well baby it’s a big deal, takin’ innocence and uh-“ he scratches the back of his head and she escapes his hold and her hand is back to it, squeezing his cock and it really does feel nice, in a head scratch sorta way. “Look, Gigi, honey, I’m sorry but lil Elvis is shy tonight.” he holds his breath as she slowly processes this.

She doesn’t retract her hand as she registers what he’s saying. “Aww, but I can kiss him!”

“M-m-maybe some other time?” he pleads like he’s asking a child to please let him get away with just five bedtime stories. Six is overkill and Daddy has work tomorrow.

She pouts briefly before bringing her sticky hand up to her mouth and licking her fingers like a barbarian. That sight alone almost fixes his damn ED. Gigi likes the light taste of him, humming in approval at the first taste like a baby trying candy for the first time.

“T-t-that means he likes ya, though.” he assures her like an idiot and she smiles around her digits.

She’s very sober and a little mournful, the way she keeps looking at him, not at all petulant or even the slightest bit contemptuous, just concerned and it primes some pump inside him to explain more than he ever should but he can’t seem to stop the words as they come out, “Had a migraine this mornin’ before ya came over and I wanted to be in ship-shape for some fun -fun with you- so I had to take some lil helpers for the head and they, well, they, they mess with…that.” he motions to his lap.

“Awww,” she laments, heartbroken as if he had to endure having his head sawn clean off, “you had a migraine? And you still had us over? Oh poor, sweet daddy!” she shifting in his lap to rub at the back of his head and into his hair and he tries to mumble assurances that it’s better now but they get lost in the glorious blubber of her frankly unnecessarily huge breasts that happen to be smashed in his face as she attends to his head. “I’ll put some oils on it- I’ve got a bathtub, we could put you in tha-”

“-Baby girl,” He laughs, excavating his chin from her cleavage, “it’s better now, I was just explainin’ the faulty mechanics. I ain’t always so stove up, didn’t want you thinking-“

“Oh I wouldn’t care!” she gushes intensely and he’s very worried that streak of the insane fan in her is larger than he thought but it’s too late, she’s caught him in her big tittied, huge nippled, anklet wearing trap, “I’d lick you and suck you and wiggle you inside me soft no matter what, all my days! I don’t care!”

“T-that’s real touching.” he murmurs in a daze. She’s perfect, every man’s wet dream - and he’s the damn lucky bastard that gets to have her. And he can’t even make full use of her.

“I’m gonna give you a back massage with some marjoram oil-“

“No, no you’re not.” he grabs at her to keep her forcefully on his lap, “I don’t need no hippy potions, I ain’t no witch’s experiment or an ole man. I’m here to eat beaver. Or…baby seal, with that bald thing.”

“You sure? I-“

“Gigi, be good.” he puts his finger to her lips and she freezes like a chastised bambi. “Good baby girl. Now you lay back f’me and spread those pretty legs. A man needs room to work his magic.”

“Ok.” she agrees in an excited whisper and tips out of his lap sideways onto the sheets, giving him a full view of her -nearly- naked self for the first time, completely serene and without artifice. He knew she'd be even worse without clothes, worse for his obsession and his indulgence and everything else but this -this is an Angel.

God, he really adores women. Best idea ever to make ‘em, and to make them with fat boobies and lil holes to rub peckers into and sweet faces to paint slimey and cute widdle toes to rub your balls against.

“Ok, let’s see what we’re workin’ with here.” he smirks and gets on his belly with a grunt, heaving himself up the bedsheets and in between her long legs, taking his fingers and moving aside that stupid little string they call underwear these days. “Oh lord, look at that.” he appreciates the pretty pink beauty of her and the smooth pale skin of her kitty, so delicate and girly and -he’s a little smitten. More than he expected. Which was an oversight with the way she keeps blowing his hopes out of the water.

“You’re the prettiest thing I ever did lay eyes on, sweetheart.” he swears with his whole heart, shuffling in closer and kissing her thigh.

Gigi cranes her neck and unsatisfied with the narrowed visuals says, “Wait, lemme prop up.” and stuffs a few pillows behind her back and sits up, legs spread wide and her smile pleased like she’s about to watch her favorite film, “Ok, now I can watch you. Go ahead, daddy.”

“Umm, alright.” he clears his head once more at the thought of her wanting to watch and dives in. Somehow he gets the feeling if he doesn’t go for it she’ll come in seconds anyway she’s so high strung and then he’ll have barely gotten his taste.

Furry, silky, warm -that’s how his hair and head feel beneath her hands, his fuzzy sideburns and his hair so little styled after the pool fluffs and tufts adorably and his cheeks puff out with his vigorous exertions and his sideburns chafe her thighs and his hands are everywhere at once -Gigi watches all these things and marvels in her heart at it. He’s very voracious about it while still having a great deal of -nuance- to it. Like a man who is in a watermelon eating competition, he may look rabid but if he’s won a few then he must have a calculated method down amid the mess.

The predominant feeling is comfortable intimacy. They are both surprised by it, she by the naturalness of watching the most famous face on planet earth smeared from her pleasure and rapturously content with her taste, he with the pleasant rightness of her legs squeezing his shoulders snuggly and her hands petting his hair away from his sweaty forehead. His scalp sweats the more he works and she rubs his neck as if mindful of the lurking migraine, as if she can only thank him for his touches by returning them.

She praises his tongue in breathy awe, “so long and pink and wet and oh-“

Nose buried in pink and wet and sweet womanliness Elvis hums his agreement. Peeking up through his lashes he can see the one hand not cradling his head is industriously tugging on those dark, large nipples of hers. He grinds himself against the bed on pure instinct. Another day, another night, he’s gotta get those large nipples of hers in his mouth.

She calls him beautiful. Again and again. “Beautiful, you’re so beautiful, worse in person, more than I ever imagined, in my wildest-“

Again and again. Beautiful, she says. More than dreams. More, he’s more and more till Gigi’s praise dissolve into shrieks and pants, screams that whimper out into the low apartment ceiling as the afternoon sun dims, as he keeps going until they build again. And again, her hips are nothing if not insistent on grinding up against his mouth. The room smells of sweat and pleasure and sun-in. She’s vocal in her gratitude, persistent in returning his touch, petting him to say thank you when she finds she can’t form coherent sentences.

Eventually there is no more.

Just peace, and him, heaving back his breath against her thighs in a pussy-drunk stupor, and her shaking from seizing one too many times. His scalp is burning beneath her hands, his neck too. Inflamed and angry, she thinks of how much he loves to give. Wished she’d looked at the clock, something to tell the girls about. Just how many minutes, hours, days? he’d spent pleasing her.

“Good?” he asks in a hopeful little slur and the pink of his cheeks and the shiny glimmer on his nose is so childlike and content in his pouty snooze that her heart melts and she curls over him as best she can and squeezes.

“It was everything.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she breathes into his burning ear, “I’m hooked.”

His laugh rumbles the whole bed, “Me too, baby girl.”

Their skin is sticky and tacky, they adhere to each other in their embrace. He is soothed by such a clasp as theirs while the longer he lays on his stomach the more keenly aware he is of how it hurts. Now’s the time to roll over and mention something about needing to get back. Now would be it, but for some reason the words don’t come and he lays on his knotted gut, suppressing winces and biting his lip against the pinches, trying to recall the sweetness of her, what made this worth it. Her breath fans his neck, wafting across his cheek -cuddle bug, he thinks, fond. Home, he should go home, but never has it felt so utterly foreign. Like a figment of what he wants and needs, like Christmas morning without your mama. A house is just a shell without heart. He wonders if his boys have got the front den cleaned yet of barbecue and would-be-in-laws.

“Do you need to get off your…head?” Gigi whispers softly and it startles him. She’s got a point, all his blood is rushing to his brain the way he’s laying.

“Probably should.” he grunts and slowly, like a pair of cats, they uncurl from around each other to be face to face for the first time since they shared such pleasure. They’re both a little pink and their smiles are too wide. He wonders at the happiness she’s releasing, marveling that he put it there. He’s got to be careful or it won’t be too long before this little girl realizes she’s got him wrapped around her finger already.

She rubs her nose against his. Another way to kiss.

She asks him if he needs a drink.

“I’ll help you with your philosophy homework.” He promises instead, it’s a reason to see her again. And soon. A reason to see her again and a hint it can’t be tonight.

Tonight he needs his pills, his bed, an enema and god knows what else just to make it till morning. He could cry from how badly he wants to be spontaneous, to go to a girl’s place, make love, cuddle like this and when he says he has to go and her eyes well up with tears at the prospect of his absence -he’d like to be able to say he can stay.

“Hush it’s alright, I’ll stay. I’ve got you, no one’s gonna ever leave you cold again.” something like that. Instead he says he can help with her test. Instead he tries to fool himself into being something less than heartbroken at how even the simplest thing in his life has to be a big production.

“Will you really?” Gigi’s face lights up at his piss poor offer.

“Promise.” he repeats.

“And will you promise me you’ll let me repay you?” She presses slyly, her hand petting down his chest and over the swell of his gut. Some childlike weariness in him wants her to rub it better. He remembers feeling the same way as a child regarding his mother’s touch and despite the fact that Gigi’s a baby girl - his baby girl - he trusts she’d make one Gladys Love Presley proud, doing her best to take care of him.

“Mmmaybe.” he looks down at her with playful suspicion.

“Promise me!” she demands, kicking her feet and flipping over to look down at him, swinging a leg to straddle him again.

He can’t help the wince his face flashes at the pressure of her hands from that high vantage. She flings them off him like she’s been burned, likes she’s the one who got hurt. “Oh shoot, sorry, sorry.” she gasps, her eyes wide and blue and tearful, “It’s bad, huh?”

As if not being able to get it up weren’t chastisement enough for his ego, now there’s this. “Uh huh.” he grits and the stab passes for the moment.

“Do you have something for it?” she hopes, “Do you need to go home?.”

There’s the out he needs. Didn’t even have to say it himself. Melancholy descends like fog over his soul but he reminds himself it is what is, he’s better off than most. So what if he can’t have sleepovers on whim or shit like a normal human or skip having his blood pressure checked every goddamn morning -he has a lot, and he got to eat Gigi’s silky smooth bare pussy. Today was a good day. Not even a wash, it was a good day, she made it a good day.

“Yeah, I need to get home.” he sounds every bit as despondent as he feels about it and he hopes she’ll take that as the compliment intended.

“Ok!” she chirps without missing a beat, jumping up in nothing but his open jacket, skipping out the bedroom door, left turn into what seems to be the kitchen.

Well, she handled that better than expected. Elvis almost hopes she’s still orgasm-happy and it doesn’t reflect her readiness to have him out of her place. He idly flicks at the stack of papers to get some impression of where the test is stumping her. He fidgets with his zipper and closes his jacket back up, coloring at the memory of letting her expose him like that.

She comes bouncing back within the minute holding a glass of water and presenting it with authority, “Now you just drink this daddy, it’s got fennel tincture in it and will help your stomach. You just drink that while I pack my bag. I’ll be fast, don’t worry,” she goes on as he tries to compute what she means and sniffs her concoction warily, “I pack light anyways and we can always come back for the rest of my stuff later.”

Come back. For her stuff. Don’t worry -she packs light.

The fennel wafts around him, the smell of licorice and fairgrounds and his mama’s hand in his and daddy winning him that stuffed tiger. Fennel, for his stomach. He shakes his head. His tongue feels fuzzy.

Come back. For her stuff. She packs light.

She is coming with him. That’s what she must mean, he realizes as he drinks her awful drink and watches with teary eyes her bare ass bend over to grab jeans from a dresser and throw them in a duffel bag. Like Graceland is summer camp.

Come back for the rest later, she’d said. She is coming back with him, just knowing she’s welcome. He didn’t even have to beg, to ask, to suggest, to hint. Send a limo, nothin, just eat pussy and now she’s gonna live with him. Let her press her skin against his own just once and suddenly, he’s never gonna be lonely again.

She bounces into the bathroom and comes out with the damn lemon shampoo, to match the lemon conditioner abandoned on the floor.

Cheap drug store shit.

“Hell no, you’re not bringing that stuff into my house.” he lays down the law, his one condition and the first time he’s vocalized any acknowledgment of her entitlement to his hospitality, “You’ll use mine till we get you sorted.”

“I like the way you smell.” she admits, dropping the bottles there in the middle of the floor. That's that sorted.

It’s still not sunk in fully as Elvis drives his quite recognizable beast of a car through Memphis’ now dark streets, while Gigi sits beside him with her white stack of papers catching the street lights glare as they pass. His giddy joy at her willingness and her entitlement to stay with him is overshadowed by the cold lump in his throat, panicking about how to keep a shred of dignity intact or retain an iota of her attraction for him when she becomes aware of his routines.

“You’re gonna teach me how to help, right?” she asks very soberly from her side, as sober as he’s ever seen her.

“Whatcha mean, baby doll?” he tries to keep his tone light.

“You’ll teach me and show me how to care for you, right?” she presses again, “I wanna take care of you, like you take care of me.”

Simple as that -for her. He grunts out something she mistakes for a yes.

Elvis puffs harder on his lit cigar and feels like he’s gonna choke, ends up rolling his window down, gulping in fresh air as Gigi does it on her side too, hanging her head out the window and whooping into the night. He wonders what might distract her while he slips away this evening, maybe a movie or maybe the hot tub or maybe the horses. Maybe Tammy is still there like a bad penny and will keep her distracted. Tonight Elvis would welcome that. Only tonight, and his hand tightens on the steering wheel in frustration over his own worn out body and how it just can’t walk this stuff off anymore.

She’s still hanging out the window, she looks so young like that. His vision blurs.

Somehow Gigi’s feet have ended up in his lap by the time Sam’s letting them into the front gate. She wiggles her toes under his belly, rubbing at the soft skin. Grinning at him suggestively, like a fat man’s belly is the most sexy thing imaginable. He wants to snort.

“Think they saved us any barbecue?” she grins.

“No, it’s all in Gingersnaps’s hair and I ain’t touchin’ that ever again.” he allows himself to be a bit of bastard, it can’t be wrong when it makes Gigi giggle in maniacal glee in the passenger seat, secure now in having her Daddy’s attention. “I’m in the mood for peanut butter anyway.” he retorts.

Hope y’all enjoyed! Your “bugging” and “screaming” is music to my ears, fuel to my fire and keeps me writing, please never hold back -this is a safe space for feral little Elvis loving rodents…like you and me.

If you’d like to be tagged in this particular series please drop a note below. I’ll admit I’m disorganized and have trouble keeping all the requests sorted when they’re scattered, what I do check regularly are the requests in the notes for chapters -and I do manage to get those added. So, if you’ve put in a request and I’ve failed ya, or if you’re new and would like to be added, please pop a note below. Xoxo

@prompted-wordsmith

@parodsal000

@ab4eva

@stylespresleyhearted

@presleyenterprise

@kendralavon7

@coolgirl462

@colahola

@lillypink

@stephthestallion

@vintageshanny

@landmermaid12

@ashtag2887

@notstefaniepresley

@butlersluvbot

@steph-speaks

@eliseinmemphis

@lookingforrainbows

@dkayfixates

@ellie-24

@memphisflash1935-1977

@marriedtopresley

@powerofelvis

@thatbanditqueen

@elvisabutler

@butlersxbirdy

@heartbrake-hotel

@fav-fanficssss

@austinbutlersbaby

@freudianslumber

@kxnnxy

@kingdomforapony

@be-my-ally

@crazymadpassionatelove

@that-hotdog

@missmaywemeetagain

@fallinlovewithurlove

@richardslady121

@lilycherries123

@18lkpeters

@xenaspace3-blog

@lil-mamas-obsessions

@father-of-2cats

@helen06dreamer

@returntopresley

[cookiesuga55]

Full of Life (Minimoni)

TW: eating disorder.

You know what I adore. Healthy fat. Round soft jiggle laid over muscle, proving that someone is loved. Gaining weight as a form of healing. Comfort and safety and trust.

Jimin gets "healthy fat." His previously malnourished and over-exercised body is finally getting more than the bare minimum number of calories to function. This all begins when he starts dating Nutritionist Namjoon, and his boyfriend purses his lips at just how little Jimin consumes in a day. Jimin is so exhausted all of the time. He complains of headaches, and Namjoon knows exactly why.

"Six cups of coffee and one granola bar is not enough fuel to last all day, little chick."

Despite Jimin waving him off with excuses about being too busy in the dance studio to eat, Namjoon hauls his own meaty, bulked-up ass to the kitchen at 1 am and cooks balanced meals for Jimin to snatch from his fridge on the way out each morning. He knows just what kinds of calories Jimin's deprived body needs. Moderately portioned rice and grains mixed with peppers, tomatoes, and a sprinkle of olive oil. A slab of seared salmon or some other healthy protein for Jimin's body to actually have enough energy to last the day. Sauteed vegetables, sliced cheese, and a healthy portion of fruit. A little bar of dark chocolate that he knows Jimin adores. A protein smoothie full of nutrients and calories for Jimin to sip in the morning instead of overdosing on caffeine. He adds an apple and draws on a sticky note. A little wobbly smiley face with a speech bubble. "Eat me!"

Namjoon presses another sticky note on the coffee machine for Jimin to see when he wakes up. A "breakfast and yummy lunch in the fridge for you. <3 Joonie."

Jimin is so pouty with affection when he wakes up and sees the notes and the food made with love from his hyung. He tosses it in his bag on the way out, chaotic and haphazard as always, almost late as he shucks on his trainers and snatches the delicious-looking smoothie instead of the stale coffee that he forgot to empty out the night before.

Namjoon keeps up caring for his boyfriend, and it isn't long before Jimin's frail and exhausted body begins filling in. Namjoon kisses his baby chick's pudgy cheek before heading to the early shift at the clinic, and murmurs as always, "love you-" before leaving.

Jimin having actual food and a well-balanced diet helps his body so much. He starts coming home from work with more energy, smiling and glowing at Namjoon with fuller cheeks, asking if he wants to go for a bike ride together along the river. Namjoon practically beams as he can see the life pouring back into his boyfriend now that his body is approaching a healthy weight. Jimin has a soft waist, and Namjoon can't help but adore it. Rubbing in his hands as he hugs him from behind in the kitchen, feeling the sweet, warm curves of his body and leaning down to kiss his neck. Jimin melts into him like usual, and Namjoon feels so much pride in the way Jimin's tummy gently pushes out into his hands. Jimin is so healthy. He's full of life and love, and Namjoon makes sure to worship the ever-living hell out of him, so Jimin doesn't slip into any of the negative thoughts that he confessed to him one night over a bottle of shared wine about why he started dancing- to lose weight.

Jimin is just so happy these days, and he knows that Namjoon is a major contributing factor. He finally has enough energy to start going to the gym with Namjoon whenever his cute, huge koala asks him with hopeful eyes. Jimin follows the exercise plan that Namjoon's personal-trainer friend at work whipped up for him.

"Nothing for weight loss," Namjoon had told Jungkook privately during their lunch break, "I just want him confident and healthy again. He was so frail, Jungkookie. I was scared he was going to break."

Jimin jogs on the elliptical and watches Namjoon squat with a bar of weight hiked over his shoulders. Tiddies and ass to die for. Namjoon is so fucking thick and yummy. Jimin licks his teeth after taking another drink of the protein shake that his boyfriend gives him every morning. They chase their weekly gym-runs with shower sex at home, and then Namjoon cooks them up a hearty breakfast to offset all of those burned calories.

His hyung is a little obsessed with clean-eating, but Jimin doesn't mind. It's cute how Namjoon always goes to the organic section of the store and bikes to the farmers market. Jimin practically has a personal chef with how good Namjoon's cooking is. There's always a delicious meal on the table for him, with seconds ready to be dished onto his plate.

Jimin finishes filling in, and starts filling out. He lays in the morning sunshine glimmering across their bed, thoroughly fucked. Both of them softly pant and bask in afterglow. Namjoon's warm, ringed hand is resting on Jimin's tummy and gently rubs circles.

"Have you noticed..." Namjoon's voice is fucked from moaning. Jimin turns to him and can't help but glow. It's his favorite sound. Namjoon's morning voice, deepened and scratchy from pleasure. "That sex has gotten so much better since you started eating more? You have more energy, baby."

Warmth floods Jimin's cheeks, but he nods, a little bit shy. Namjoon's hand caresses the curve of his waist, fingers sinking into the supple weight. "I love this, by the way," Namjoon whispers and gives Jimin's love handle a little squeeze. He squishes in his hyung's hand. "I prefer you healthy and soft over sharp and exhausted," Namjoon nuzzles into his neck, and Jimin wraps around Namjoon's warmth.

The truth spills out of Jimin before he can think twice, "me too..."

"You haven't had a headache in months too, lovely. You're full of life." Namjoon cuddles him back, pulling him into his thick chest. Jimin burrows into it, breathing him in. Jimin isn't dumb. He's noticed the way that his body has been rounding out, filling up with muscle and a healthy layer of supple padding, making him curvy and plump. His hips even have stretch marks over them, complete with bruised kisses painted over them by Namjoon. His hyung has done such a good job of making him feel comfortable and loved in his new body.

"I know," Jimin whispers into the safety of Namjoon's chest, knowing that it's all because of his boyfriend's care. "Thank you, Joonie. I'm so happy like this."

That's all that Namjoon needs to hear to practically rumble in his chest, and kiss the top of Jimin's head. He pushes Jimin onto his back, laying his hearty weight on top of him and sliding his big hands down to Jimin's waist. One of Namjoon's dimples presses into his cheek as his lips curve up into a smirk. "Now that I don't have to be so careful with you..." He squeezes Jimin's plump sides, "You're fucking sexy with some weight on you, baby."

Jimin's cheeks heat up, and a whimper bubbles out of his throat. Embarrassing. That's embarrassing that he just whined from Namjoon squeezing his tummy. "I- I am?" He looks up at his hyung's hungry face. Namjoon pets his palms over him, squeezing everywhere that's warm with fat. His lidded eyes darken.

"I told you that I love this- Healthy. Curvy. Soft. You're perfect for squeezing and biting." He licks his lips as he drinks Jimin in. The look that Namjoon is keeping him pinned with has Jimin wanting to mewl and arch up into him. To hook his stretch-marked thighs around Namjoon's waist and beg.

All Jimin can do is whine and tug on his boyfriend's thick biceps.

Namjoon purrs as he worships him. "A healthy mix of muscle and enough pudge for people to know that I'm taking good care of you. That you're finally being kept well-fed." He shoves his hands underneath Jimin's back and slides down, getting a thick handful of his ass cheeks. Jimin feels like he's going to catch on fire with how much pleasure is thrumming through his body, settling in the core of his belly. Namjoon sinks down and hums against his fluffy belly, like he knows where the heat blooms inside of Jimin. "Softened tummy and tits for me to worship, and a plump peach for me to bruise-"

Namjoon's teeth scrape against Jimin's padded hip bones. Jimin whines uncontrollably, dissolving into melted desire at the body worship. He desperately clutches at Namjoon's hair, tugging hard just how his hyung likes it. His back arches, making the sweet curve of his belly push up into Namjoon's face. He can feel his boyfriend's lips stretch into a smile against his skin.

"I'm taking advantage of all of that extra energy you have for my own pleasure. That makes me a bad hyung," Namjoon drags his lips up Jimin's stomach. God that feels so fucking good.

"Take advantage- Please-" he gasps and frees his pillowy thighs to hook them around Namjoon and lock him in place. He wants him to keep kissing his tummy. "Gods, Namjoon, please fucking take advantage- I'm all yours-"

Namjoon laughs in delight against Jimin's softened stomach and begins pressing firm, needy kisses down his belly and across his waist. His voice is teasing and thick with desire.

"If you insist, baby..."

Jimin is cut off by a moan. "I fucking insist..."

[rahimnassar]

I'm better of a goddess than Zeus will ever be, and I'm not even a goddess

[ox1-lovesick]

ᥫ᭡ 투바투 ── reaction to you baking them cookies!

⌕ . . . pairing. txt x gn!reader genre. fluff ☁️ warnings. mentions of food, swearing (?) wc. 100-200 each

⌕ . . . synopsis. you bake tubatu cookies 🍪

⌕ . . . a/n: my first post on this smelly app i hope it doesn't eat ass 😻 also craving cookies really badly rn

── YEONJUN

we all know yeonjun is a BIG foodie,, he'd fall inlove all over again if you baked and cooked for him 💔

thinks it's so romantic.

you? took time out of your busy day? to buy ingredients? and bake cookies? for HIM??? my lordy lord he's so inlove with you

really doesn't matter how much you bake he'll finish them in an hour 💀 even if they don't taste that great, that doesn't matter. they were made by you, with your hands, your love and affection, he will absolutely eat every last crumb.

bonus points if you decorated them cutely, he'll take 15000 pictures from every angle and send them to everyone he knows. his mom, his dad, the members, his childhood friends, his choreographer, his manager, hitman bang, his teacher from the third grade, EVERYONE will know that you baked cookies for him and how delicious they are

── SOOBIN

he's a bit worried at first

traumatized from his own baking experiences (aswell as the members) he probably expects them to taste like charcoal

very hesitant to take a bite because he's worried he'll get salmonella but it surprisingly doesn't taste as bad as he thought it would???

what witchcraft if this???

suspiciously takes another bite and suddenly the entire batch has been polished

your cookies are his new guilty pleasure 😈

WILL NEVER EVER SHARE THEM WITH THE MEMBERS (even if you tell him to) they're his and his only 💔

will hide them up his ass if he has too, they must never know how good your baking is

── BEOMGYU

suspicious #2

beom is a picky eater.

he loves you, don't get me wrong but you'll have to try extra hard if you want him to even nibble on one of your cookies 💀

would probably pick a crumb off the bottom of the plate and say they're delicious 💀

eventually he does give in because as mentioned before, he's whipped ^_^

takes the smallest nibble tho

he literally can't taste anything cause of how little he ate but he'll call you y/n ramsay

you'll have to shovel one down his esophagus for him to taste it 💀

would probably pretend to throw up

but once he's done teasing you he'll compliment your baking ofc <3

as much as he doesn't want to admit it he's now hooked on your cookies

needs them like he needs air

"if i hypothetically asked you to bake your gross cookies again would you hypothetically bake them for me 👉👈"

── TAEHYUN

"🤨🤨🤨🤨"

he prides himself on the fact that he can cook a decent meal and the others can't, so if you were able to do any better than him it'd bruise his ego 💔

he's not gonna throw your tin of cookies on the floor and call them disgusting ofc he'd just feel a little bit threatened 🤨

would probably say shit like "tell your mom her cookies are delicious"

if you call him out on it he'll start getting whiny and defensive 💀

although he'll admit defeat eventually and ask you to bake them again

stingy #2 the members must never know.

will hide your tin in his underwear draw or something maniacal like that

although yeonjun will probably be doing laundry or something and find them 😭

and when yeonjun asks him about it he'll come up with the lamest excuse too please

"who put cookies in the sewing kit?" 😟

── HUENINGKAI

does a backflip the second they touch his lips

you know that Talk X Today episode where soobin baked tarts and kai tasted one and started doing roly polys on the couch?

that's him.

bro levels up when he takes a whiff of your baking

unlike the rest of his greedy members he'll encourage them to try your baking and give feedback (although if it's negative feedback he'll rub onions on their pillows (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

will ask to bake them with you next time and to teach him the recipe so he can bake them for you some time as well

he'll get flour up his nose and sneeze white for the next few weeks but he has good intentions !!

will brag about it to his family and friends

"you're just mad y/n doesn't bake YOU cookies leah 🤨"

© ox1-lovesick — all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, or repost my work without my explicit permission.

[sinsandsuccubus]

can you do something where jack/urban are with a plus size/curvy girl

Being Curvy with Urby - Urban Wyatt

A/N: I thought this would be a lot easier and more detailed in a blurb than in one fic, that way I could hit all the points. Hope you enjoy ♡︎

-

Masterlist ☽ ☾

                                        ☽ ☾

SFW

Would love kneading your thighs

Would love to sleep on them, constantly

"They're like... pillows. Warm pillows.."

Loves to smack your ass

"Look, there's a lot back there to grab at, be honest if you were me, you'd smack it too"

Would sleep on your ass while you're laying on your stomach

"This is my second favorite pillow."

Tries to balance stuff on it

Takes the line "Roll my weed on it that's an asstray" literally.

No like, actually pulls out his weed tray and rests it on your ass while you're laying on your stomach scrolling on your phone

"Are you seriously using my ass to roll your weed right now?"

"Yeah, did you not hear that line by Big Sean?"

Loves to watch your ass and thighs jiggle as you walk

Is clingy

Very clingy

Would hold onto you everywhere you go

Loves to wrap his arms around your waist

Refers to you as his "snuggle bug"

Loves to sit in between your thighs/lay between your legs

Loves it when you sit in his lap

“Urban, I’m too heav-“

//Urban slams you down onto his lap//

Gets angry when you call out any of your imperfections

"She's very gorgeous to me!"

Might even sing you that song from Little Rascals; Alfalfa to Darla

"You are so beautiful~ to me!!! Can't you see!"

But no, seriously, comes at you any time you pour out any negative comments at yourself

"I know you don't see it pretty girl, but I believe you're beautiful. And I will spend every day if I have to, showing you"

Gives you words of affirmation every day

"You look beautiful in that set"

"I love that color on you"

Loses his mind when he sees you in leggings/jeans

Would take hella photos of you

Especially the special photos

“Babe, you want to take photos of me.... naked? Are you sure?"

"Did I stutter? Now, take them clothes off,"

Would buy you matching sets, paying close attention to the size so it fits you perfectly

Then would cut the size tag off so that you're not self-conscious

"Um, Urby? What size is this? It doesn't say."

"I don't know. Why? It doesn't fit?"

"No, it fits perfectly! I just wanted to know what size it was."

"That's not important for you to know. What's important is that we match.”

Would get you a dissolving bikini, but only for you to wear when it's the two of you, just to see you naked

"Urban Wyatt! Did you get me a dissolving bikini?"

"Maybe... maybe not... but I am liking the view I'm getting right now."

This leads to...

NSFW

Goes down on you often so you can suffocate him with your thighs

"Urban, I'm literally gonna smother you."

"Okay? This is the best way to go out. Put that on my tombstone."

Wants you to sit on his face every time y'all have sex

Likes to fuck you against the wall while holding you up by your thighs

Likes doggy style just to see your ass and thighs jiggle

Your ass sits perfectly in his lap when he hits it from behind

Holds your wide hips while he fucks you

Helping you steady in place while he blows your back out

Will put a mirror on the ceiling just to watch the two of you fuck

Will fuck you in front of a mirror and make you say positive things about yourself

Every time you stop, he stops

Any time he thinks you're not being serious he stops

Likes to put chocolate/whip cream between the valley of your breast to your pussy

Licks that shit clean

Holds your love handles when you ride him

Leaves hickeys on your tummy, breast, and thighs for you to look at when you get dressed every day

"Oh, these are starting to disappear, mamas, gotta make some more"

Ice cubes... use your imagination

Will always tell you he loves you, every. single. time.

"I love you, pretty girl"

"I love you mamas"

"I love you ma"

-

A/N: Major shout out to @sealpuptrash @velvetstreets @babyharleezy and & 🧚 for the help!

[janis-1987]

Under New Management (Fizzmodeus)

Chapter 4

Tw: Smut

Masterpost X

< x >

As Fizz makes his way to the elevator he can't help but be nervous, not just because Asmodeus wanted to see him, which he hoped meant good things, but because he can't help but think of all the times he'd been jumped in the circus and had his limbs ripped off by crazed fans. He jumps at every noise, even whipping around a few times when he thinks he hears someone behind him. He sighs heavily as he reaches the elevator, tapping his foot and swishing his tail anxiously until he hears a soft pop and feels an astonishing amount of pain in his lower back, he barely stifles a yelp from the pain and he knows exactly what has happened. He steps inside the elevator and as it takes him up, he takes a deep breath and pops his tail back into place, letting out a soft hiss from the pain. He gives his tail a few testing flicks and sure enough it’s back to normal. He sighs in relief and the elevator doors open once again, revealing a long almost foreboding hallway. 

Fizz swallows nervously as he steps into the hall, he was no longer so sure he could do this. He shakes his head, no, today has been one of few good days he’s had recently, and he was not going to let his nerves ruin his chances of having a good night with Asmodeus. He straightens up and makes his way to the door at the end of the hallway, knocking on it gently. 

Asmodeus smiles when he hears the soft taps on the door, He was already halfway undressed, his fluffy chest fully exposed and his hat long gone. He cracks open the door and his smile only widens when he sees the little imp. He swings open the door and scoops the little imp into his arms, "You did amazing tonight little one!" He says happily, kicking the door shut behind him. He bites his bottom lip, noticing Fizz was back in the revealing outfit from the show, "You look breathtaking, Fizzypop."

Fizz feels his face heat up with blush, not used to receiving so much praise after a performance, "Thank you Ozzie, I'm glad ya liked it."

"I loved it. Everything was perfect, for someone who used to do pretty kid friendly shows, you sure know how to make yourself sexy." Asmodeus says, sitting down on the couch with the little imp in his lap.

Fizz was amazed that Asmodeus had nothing negative to say at all. It was nice to be appreciated by the one who owned him for a change, "You're too kind, Ozzie, really."

"I'm just telling you the truth little one. Oh and before I forget, I have a new contract for you to sign. You see, I don't think Mammon was very fair in his old one with you, I'd like to give you some of your freedoms back, so I drew up a new contract, you don't have to sign it now, but I thought you would appreciate it. Mammon and I have already agreed on it so you don't have to worry about him being on your ass about it." Asmodeus says, gesturing to the contract that sat neatly on the coffee table.

Fizz can't help but wag his tail hearing this, he hugs Asmodeus tightly and caught up in the moment, unable to know how he could possibly thank him, he kisses him, a deep passionate kiss.

Asmodeus had to admit, he was surprised by the kiss, but that doesn't stop him from eagerly kissing the little imp back.

As the kiss continues to get more heated, Asmodeus moves them to the large heart shaped bed in the middle of the room, gently pinning Fizz to it.

Finally they release the kiss, staring deeply into each other's eyes.

"Do you want this?" Asmodeus asks softly.

"Yes," Fizz responds quickly, "Please sir, I want this so badly. I want you so badly."

Asmodeus chuckles softly, "Call me daddy, baby boy~"

Fizz blushes at the nickname, "O-okay daddy." He stutters out, his nerves still getting to him, he'd never had to please a demon prince before, not this way at least.

Asmodeus looks concerned, the feeling being so foreign to him, he had never felt so concerned for the well-being of a demon he had sex with before, he knew this feeling had to be love, he wondered if it was even right for him to feel love, he was the demon prince of lust after all.

Fizz notices his concern, "Ozzie? Is everything okay?"

Asmodeus snaps out of it, "Yeah, yeah, I'm alright. Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. You don't need to worry Ozzie, I'm not as fragile as you think." He says, feeling very self conscious, he didn't know why Asmodeus seemed so concerned about him. But he didn't like it, he hated when people looked at him differently just because he was in an accident.

Asmodeus doesn't seem to believe him, but pushes away the feelings of concern, seeing how much they hurt Fizz, "I'm sorry, do you still want to continue?"

Fizz nods, "Yes please." He says softly, he did want this, he really did, but then his eyes narrow, "But not if it's out of pity. I only want this to keep going if you actually want me."

"I do want you. I think you look gorgeous just the way you are." He says, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

Fizz blushes, looking away for a moment, trying to collect himself, he looks back up at Asmodeus, "Alright then, let's do this, daddy~"

Asmodeus nods, ripping the clothes from the little imps body, desperate to see him, all of him. He almost stops when he hears his hips crack, he looks to Fizz, looking for any sign of discomfort, seeing none, he summons lube and coats his fingers in it. Wanting to properly prep him, he didn't want to hurt him at all and that's when he sees that Fizz has already stretched himself, he chuckles softly, "My, my, what an eager little slut~ but I don't think that little toy has stretched you enough~"

Fizz tilts his head, the plug was already huge and there was no way it wasn't big enough, or so he thought, as if Asmodeus could read his mind, he strips out of his reaming clothes, to say he was big would be a massive understatement. He looks at his cock and is practically drooling, despite that, he wonders how in the hell it was going to fit. But he'd gotten this far, and Ozzie seemed intent on prepping him for it, so he relaxes, deciding that he shouldn't worry too much.

Asmodeus gently pulls the plug out from his ass and slips one of his fingers in him, slowly, partially to see the little imp squirm but also because he knew even his fingers alone were huge, hell Fizz was only barely too big to fit in the palm of his hand. So he's gentle and slow, trying his best not to bring any discomfort to his little toy.

Fizz squirms, he felt like he was already being fucked just from his finger alone, he was glad he had thought to stretch himself before hand, because if he hadn't, damn this would have hurt. He moans softly, holding Asmodeus' wrist causing him to stop and look at him with concern, Fizz pants softly, "H-hold on a second daddy, I need to adjust." He says through a few moans, the tip of his finger resting right against his prostate.

Asmodeus' eyes widen a little and he nods, "Oh, right, of course, I'm sorry baby, I didn't even think about that." He felt so awkward and he hated it, he was supposed to be the suave, and charming prince of lust, not a nervous wreck like Stolas with his weird little quirks.

Fizz almost laughs at the flustered state of the demon prince, but with how needy he was, he could hardly think much of it. After a few more moments he swallows and looks up at him, "y-you can move now, daddy~" he gets out, releasing his wrist.

Asmodeus nods, and gently thrusts his finger in and out of him for a few more minutes, before adding his other finger, he holds his hand still again as Fizz arches his back and moans loudly, "I- anh~! Daddy~!" He whines, already losing his ability to speak in coherent sentences. To his credit, most demons were completely undone by just one of Asmodeus' fingers.

Asmodeus watches him in amazement, this was their first time together and yet Fizz hadn't tapped out, he honestly thought he would have by now. But they were nowhere near done yet, and Asmodeus wondered just how long Fizz would last, sure, he could always use his pheromones and make the little imp want more but he didn't want to force him, he wanted to take care of him more than anything. So for the moment he holds them back.

After a few more seconds he starts to make a scissoring motion, causing Fizz to squirm and moan more, "F-fuck daddy~ so much~!" He gets out, his eyes rolling back.

Asmodeus gently removes his fingers, spreading lube on his cock, as he asks, "Too much? Do you want to stop?" He was honestly amazed Fizz hadn't cum yet, he assumed it was because he hadn't been using his powers to make Fizz feel everything he did more intensely.

"N-no! Daddy, please don't stop, please~" Fizz begs, so wrapped up in the pleasure and lust he felt that he didn't care how embarrassing what he said was.

Asmodeus smirks, "That's my good boy~" he gently presses into Fizz, slowly pushing his cock all the way inside him, stopping whenever it looks like Fizz needs him too. He can't help but smile a little when he sees the slight bulge in Fizz's lower abdomen when his cock is all the way inside him, he moans at the feeling of the tight, wet, heat around his cock, "Mnm~ Fuck baby boy, you feel so good~"

Fizz pants softly, glad Asmodeus is being so gentle with him, he expected him to be rough and uncaring, he was amazed at just how sweet the lustful demon was. It takes him a few moments before he's babbling out pleas for Asmodeus to move.

Asmodeus gladly does just that, trying to stay gentle but he can't help but get a little rough with Fizz, pinning his hands above his head and absolutely railing him.

Fizz can't help but arch his back and scream out moans, his eyes rolling back, as he's in complete and utter ecstasy. He couldn't even think clearly which he had to admit was a nice bonus to being able to get fucked by demon royalty.

Asmodeus absolutely adores all the noises he earns from the little imp beneath him. He's still absolutely astonished that he hasn't cum yet. But he doesn't let that worry him, convinced Fizz just had built up a lot of stamina.

And Fizz certainly had, even though he hadn't had too much action recently, he's always had his fair share of hook ups, and honestly fucking out of boredom and anger with his ex. Though he couldn't deny he was getting very close, the familiar knot forming in his stomach as he babbles nonsense about Asmodeus breeding him.

Asmodeus can tell Fizz is getting close now from the way he tightly grips the bed sheets and his cock leaking precum. His own cock was absolutely dripping with precum inside of Fizz. Low groans and growls escape his lips as he continues to rail the little imp beneath him.

Fizz desperately searches for his words, finally finding them, he stutters out between his moans, "C-can I cum daddy~, please~?" He begs, desperately needing to cum.

Asmodeus is tempted to tell him no, but they haven't talked about kinks or boundaries yet, besides he didn't know if this would become a regular thing and he really, really wanted it to. So he nods, "Go a-ahead~ cum for me baby~"

Fizz babbles out a thank you as he cums all over his chest, panting softly, still moaning as Asmodeus continues to fuck him, since he hadn't told him to stop yet. Besides, he was close himself, so he figured as long as Fizz didn't tap out he was okay to keep going.

Fizz absolutely loved it, for once he enjoyed the feeling of being used, and maybe it was because it was Asmodeus or maybe it was because he had been so kind and understanding this whole time, he didn't know which but he didn't care, all he cared was that it felt good. He can't help but whine a little from overstimulation.

Asmodeus listens to all the little noises Fizz makes for him, absolutely loving each one, and soon he's cumming inside him and Fizz finally, whimpers out, "st-stop, please." He says quietly.

Asmodeus stops, pulling out, and panting ever so slightly, he lays down next to Fizz, "Fuck baby, that was amazing."

Fizz laughs breathlessly, panting heavily, his chest rising and falling with each breath, "You could say that again." He waits for Asmodeus to get up and leave him alone in the room, but that doesn't happen, instead, he gets dressed and wraps Fizz in a blanket. Holding him in his arms.

"Let's get you home and cleaned up little one." He says softly.

"You're not gonna leave me to take care of myself?" Fizz asks in utter shock. No one had ever stayed to take care of him after sex, not even when he and Blitz were an actual couple.

"Of course not, little one. I'm going to take care of you how you deserve to be taken care of. Has no one ever given you aftercare?" Asmodeus asks, shocked to find out that Fizz had never received aftercare before.

"Aftercare? What's that?" Fizz asks, beyond confused.

Asmodeus sighs, "oh you poor thing, let's go get you cleaned up." He says, opening a portal into his bathroom, and taking Fizz through it. Ready to take good care of him.

[babyboibucky]

The Match - Part 15

Pairing: CEO!Bucky x Fem!Reader

Summary: You find yourself involved in a situation between Bucky and his father.

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Uhhhhhh none, sadly no smut lmfao

A/N: SURPRISE UPDATE LMFAO replies to y’alls reaction for this might be delayed though because I am swamped with work this week and I fucking hate it 😩 lol anyway acnakjcna idk how I feel about this part but I hope it would live up to y’alls expectations ily all!!!! 😘😘😘

The Match Masterlist || MAIN MASTERLIST

Get the cheque and then head out.

Not only did you take a detour and went back to take care of a sick Bucky, but you also found yourself in the presence of his father. Who, by the way, didn’t seem pleased to see you in his son’s place.

There were a lot of hearsays about him, George Barnes, most of which were negative and focused on him being arrogant and greedy. You never paid attention to those, not even when you and Bucky had something going on. You didn’t ask because he never brought it up, you figured that family talk was off-limits.

“Are you his secretary?” George asked as his eyes scanned you from head to toe, stopping at the hem of your skirt which was bunched up above your knees from the way you sat earlier.

You shook your head and opened your mouth to explain the situation, however, George did not pay attention and cut you off immediately.

“James must be paying a lot of money for the double job.” he said suggestively, inviting himself inside, leaving you with your mouth slack from receiving such disrespect from a man of his caliber.

He did remind you of someone who had the same air of arrogance though.

“You knock him out or what?” George quipped with a chuckle, turning to you.

Usually, you’d stand up for yourself but right now you were left speechless. Was this what Bucky had to deal with growing up? More questions about his childhood began to cloud your mind, preventing you from even formulating something to say.

Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately, Bucky stepped out of the bedroom and looked just as surprised to see his father. He was quick to throw a worried glance at you, as if he was checking whether you were alright. You merely nodded at him and offered a tight-lipped smile in return.

“What are you doing here?” Bucky coldly asked, voice hoarse from his cough.

George snickered, “You have been ignoring my messages and calls, why did you think I decided to come visit you?” he asked before turning to you.

“She must have worn you out for you not to respond to any of those.” he said.

Bucky frowned, “What did you say?” he asked.

Suddenly, you wanted for the ground to swallow you right then and there. Should you quietly leave? Maybe grab the box of strawberry tarts and take it with you, head to the door and leave for Bucky and his father to resolve their issues?

No? Bummer.

“James, I don’t appreciate you bringing home someone like her. Moreover, disregarding your work for a rendezvous in the middle of an important project. Stop being irresponsible.” George called out.

You flinched at the volume of his voice and although very offended at what he thought of you, you worried more for Bucky given the state of his health. He wasn’t in the best shape and for his own father to tell him shitty things when he has been working his ass off, it was hard to take.

“I hate to interrupt but he was sick, really sick.” you explained.

George did not even spare you a glance and instead, pointed a finger at you, “Do not interrupt when my son and I are speaking.”

“Do not talk to her like that.” Bucky defended.

He spoke softly but the look in his eyes was dark, you knew that particular darkness in his eyes. You’d been the receiving end of it, you knew how angry Bucky was. His jaw ticked and his nostrils flared as he scowled at his father, he wouldn’t be able to hold back for long.

George laughed and then looked at you with an incredulous look on his face, “Do you see this? You got my son pussy-whipped, I am actually impressed.”

And that was when you snapped, even before Bucky did.

“You should be impressed, Mister Barnes. I am not your son’s secretary nor his whore, I know? Shocking, right? I am the Marketing Head who is handling the project with Wilson Enterprises.” you introduced yourself and extended an arm for a handshake.

George’s face was priceless and if only you could bring out your phone and snap a photo of this moment, you would and have it printed out. You were most definitely going to be framing it and hanging it in your bedroom.

He looked down at your hand with a frown and ignored it, snapping his head towards Bucky. “You let this woman take over something as big as that?” he asked in disbelief.

This man was something else, you literally had no words for him.

“She is fully capable of handling this partnership, maybe even more than me. Besides, you no longer own this company. You don’t have a say in my decisions.” Bucky angrily said.

“I built this company from the ground up, James. I have every right to decide for it as much as you do.” George exclaimed.

Bucky chuckled, “Then why did you force me to take over then? You know I didn’t want to have anything to do with your goddamn company. Oh, right. Because mom left you to be with someone more successful and you could not fathom that your company then was failing so you decided to pass the burden to me like the shitty father that you are!”

Bucky was forced to run the company? You never knew about this, not even from gossip or from the articles you found on the internet. All this information was very new to you and honestly, it was making you understand Bucky and his attitude even more.

“Your mother left because you were an irresponsible brat. Had I not given your life some direction, you wouldn’t be where you are now and maybe, your mother would have stayed with us!” George spat.

“Mom left because of you! I am so tired of you blaming me for what happened to this fucking family. She left because you’re a fucking asshole, dad. You treated her like a piece of shit that’s why she left you, that’s why she left me to fend for myself.” Bucky was fuming.

“And I’m not letting you treat her the same way.” he immediately added, motioning over to you.

Your eyes widened at your sudden involvement in the conversation. This was totally unexpected, however, you could not help but feel relieved that Bucky stood up for himself. Judging by the expression on George’s face, this seemed to be the first time that Bucky did that.

“She’s amazing.” Bucky said, but this time, his eyes were trained on yours. “She was always there whenever something happened, whenever I failed at my responsibilities. I’d say the company owes her a lot, I owe her a lot...I wasn’t the best boss to her and yet she keeps on going the extra mile. So no, I won’t tolerate you disrespecting her and calling her names because she does not deserve that.”

You were left speechless and so was George. For a moment, you thought that he might actually hurt his son but he simply huffed out and shook his head in disappointment, and maybe embarrassment as well. He walked over to the door but made sure to give you another meaningful look before pulling it open.

“I expect this event to be a huge success. I can’t afford for the company to get a bad reputation.” he warned you.

You offered him a sarcastic smile, “Don’t worry too much, Mister Barnes. You already have enough grey hair as it is, we wouldn’t want you to show up at the event with a full head of white hair.” you jested.

George looked at his son with an offended expression but only received a shrug and a smirk from Bucky. You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing at his face when he turned to you once more. Extending an arm, you gestured for him to walk out the door and when he did, you called for his attention.

“Mister Barnes, I’d like to let you know that your son is doing a great job running the company. Sure, he might have shortcomings too but he’s doing his best. I think he deserves some recognition. And trust too.” you said, gazing over at Bucky meaningfully.

“It’s going to be a slow process, but maybe you should try learning to trust him.”

And maybe I should too, you thought to yourself.

-

It was quiet in Bucky’s place after his father left, none of you spoke about what just happened. You went to clean up the mess in his kitchen despite his protests, made sure he had something to eat the following day and then went to the bedroom to get your things.

“Don’t forget to take your meds. I really need you to join me at the food tasting this Friday, so get lots of rest.” you told Bucky as he walked you to the front door.

“Thank you.” he said.

“Thank you, too.” you responded quickly. “I didn’t know your father was a...uhh…” you scratched your forehead, trying to find the right word that wouldn’t offend Bucky. George was, after all, still his father.

He laughed, “An asshole? A douchebag?” he said. “You probably realized why I ended up being like this.” he added, whispering his latter statement as if he didn’t want you to hear it.

You sighed, “You’re nothing like your father, Bucky.” you reassured him, “And it’s never too late to change some things about yourself.”

Bucky nodded, “I’m trying.”

You smiled, “I know. You have a lot of explaining to do though, one of which was your coffee stunt.” you reminded him.

Bucky rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, “You don’t have to let me explain if you’re still not yet ready.”

“Look, I’m already softening up so you might want to take advantage of that before I change my mind.” you explained, crossing your arms over your chest.

Bucky laughed again, “We have a lot to talk about, don’t we?”

It wasn’t only about explaining his side that Bucky was referring to. You figured out he also meant about your resignation and Sam’s offer, which by the way, you haven’t revisited for quite a while. You wondered whether Bucky was aware of the position that Sam wanted you to fill in.

“We’ll talk. But for now, just rest. Let me know how you feel in the morning.” you said.

“I will, thanks again.”

“Goodnight, Bucky.” you greeted, automatically holding his arm before you even realized it.

Blushing, you quickly took your hand back and adjusted the strap of your bag on your shoulder. Bucky was biting his bottom lip, failing to hide the grin that tugged at his lips. You snorted and bid goodbye, turning around with a smile on your face.

-

“I have a good feeling about this event.” Sam said, hands inside the pockets of his pants as he walked around the venue.

The meeting with the stylist ended a few minutes ago, with all the details finally ironed out. Another task crossed out on your list of responsibilities. Thankfully, everything seemed to be on track with little to no troubles.

You sighed nervously, “God, I hope so. If this event fails, I won't be able to forgive myself.”

Sam chortled, “It won’t. It’ll be a huge success, I’m sure of it.” he said and walked around a bit more before stopping.

“Would it be rude for me to ask you for an update about my offer?” he asked, lifting his brow at you.

You groaned, “I am torn.” you admitted. “As much as your offer is mind-blowing, I mean? The benefits? I thought I was looking at a contract for a damn sugar baby.” you joked.

Sam shrugged, “If you wanna be my sugar baby, go right ahead.” he said with nonchalance.

You deadpanned, “I was kidding, Sam.”

“I wasn’t.” he said before bursting into a fit of laughter, “That was a joke but if you want to make it real, by all means, count me in.” he chuckled.

“Very tempting.” you chided before turning serious once more, “It’s just that I don’t want to quickly jump in at the first opportunity offered to me, you know?”

Sam beamed at you, nodding his head in understanding. “You’re very smart. And I do understand what you mean so I’m extending your deadline. Get back to me after the event with your decision, I’ll make sure to keep the position vacant until then.”

“And you’re a good friend, Sam. A good mentor too, I appreciate all your help. I really do.” you said.

-

Despite being busy at work and the recent development in your relationship with Bucky, you still made an effort to search for other job opportunities. You didn’t want to limit yourself to Sam’s offer, no matter how amazing the salary and benefits are. Honestly, you felt like you weren’t ready to take on a position like that. Maybe it was your self-doubt speaking, but you weren’t entirely confident about it yet.

You’d been sending out your resume to a few companies you found on LinkedIn, hoping to hear from at least one of those.

You also had to admit that you thought about resigning, whether it was still the best option. However, you came to a realization that you were better off to a different company. A lot of things have already happened that tainted your experiences over at Barnes Group of Companies.

You wanted a fresh start.

On the way to work, you decided to drop by the bakery again to buy some pastries for Mark and Beverly to try. The owner remembered you and was quick to recommend a few more of her delicacies aside from the strawberry tarts. She even offered to give you a cup of coffee for free.

You were standing by the counter when your phone buzzed, with Beverly’s name showing up on the screen. You grunted because whenever she called, it meant that something was wrong.

“What is it this time?” you monotonously answered.

“Oh thank god, I thought you decided to go AWOL.” she heaved out a deep sigh of relief.

You frowned, “Why on earth did you even think of that?”

“I haven’t seen you around the office, I mean, I know you’re busy. But usually you’d already be walking around the floor at this time and you aren’t here yet. And knowing that you resigned, I can’t help but panic when I don’t see you!” she whined.

No matter how shallow and annoying Beverly’s reasoning was, you found it sweet. She can be quite clingy though, but you were surely going to miss it when you leave.

“I’m buying something for you and Mark so chill out, bestie.” you said.

Beverly audibly gasped, “You called me ‘bestie’!”

You rolled your eyes, “It’s the first and last time I’m saying that. And please, I haven’t even found a new job yet so you can stop worrying about it for now.” you reassured before bidding goodbye.

Taking the box of pastries and coffee from the owner, you thanked her and turned around to leave, only to almost bump into a familiar face. Thank goodness that the coffee didn’t spill because you’re close to running late.

“Hi.” the man greeted with an amused smile. “I see you came back, for the strawberry tarts, I assume?” he asked.

“Strawberry tart guy! Right, yes. I knew you were familiar. And unfortunately, I didn’t get a taste of them last time so I brought a few more just now.” you explained.

Unlike the first time you met him, he wasn’t dressed casually in a shirt and jacket combo. He looked very decent today, sporting a crisp, light blue button down dress shirt tucked in his black work pants.

The guy laughed, “I hope you get to taste them now.” he said. “And I know this might make you think that eavesdropping is my hobby, but I heard that you were looking for a job?” he curiously asked.

“I definitely think that you eavesdrop for fun.” you retorted. “But yes, I am.”

“What experience do you have? I think there’s an opening where I work at, just thought you might be interested in case it was right up your alley.” he explained.

Was he being too kind for a stranger? You sort of doubted whether to give some information about yourself, but then again, he actually looked genuinely kind. He doesn’t give off a weird, creepy vibe too and the owner of the bakery seemed to be fond of him.

“I do marketing.” you simply stated, growing a little impatient because the clock was ticking and you didn’t want to be late for work.

The guy’s face brightened up, “Oh, that’s great! I heard that HR is looking for a marketing manager, do you want to apply? I work for a hotel company, nothing too big though.” he said.

You shrugged, “Sure, why not? I can check it out although I don’t have my resume with me right now. And I’m actually running late for work.” you said apologetically.

Strawberry tart guy apologized, “Oh god, I’m sorry. I’ll give you the e-mail of our HR so you can send it directly to them.” he said.

The both of you struggled about how to go on about it, given that you were halfway out of the bakery holding a box in one hand and a coffee in another. The guy was quick to grab a napkin from one of the tables, borrowing a pen from the owner before jotting down the e-mail and stuffing it inside your bag.

You laughed, “Thank you and I’m so sorry to be in such a rush.” you said.

“Please don’t apologize. It’s my fault. I didn’t get your name, by the way.” he awkwardly asked, “So I can give our HR a heads up about your application.” he explained.

You told him your name and asked for his, hoping that you’d remember it at the end of the day with how swamped your brain was from all the event preparations. Strawberry tart guy flashed a charming smile as he introduced himself.

“I am Steve Rogers.”

[finelinevogue]

he’s so vogue

Description - you are the journalist for the new Harry Styles December Vogue Issue

A/N - how is everyone doing? hope you enjoy! if you have any requests please feel free to ask. love you all and have a lovely rest of the week!

warnings: swearing

[masterlist]

Being a journalist for Vogue was probably the biggest flex you could ever make.

After 3 years of studying English Literature at Surrey University, you never thought, only a year after, you'd be working as an apprentice at Vogue UK. If it weren't for your Aunty, who worked in the fashion design section at Vogue HQ, then you'd no doubt still be a broke-ass, single, lonely student. Ok, lonely you still were but your job was so full-on that you didn't have time for a relationship.

Two years into your apprenticeship you were promoted to an official member of the team, and then another two years later you got promoted to team leader in your department of journalism, and editing; The Media - or as you like to call it - "The Celeb Goss". You were beyond happy with your job and found such passion in every article your wrote. Whether it be about a new celebrity romance or the collapse of one, you found a way to story-tell in such a meditated way that everyone loved your pieces.

That's why the Harry Styles had requested you to be the one to interview him.

Of course you'd written about A-list celebrities in the past, producing articles on pregnancy rumours, or engagements, or breakups, but you'd never met them before authoring an article. You'd met plenty of D-list celebrities who thought they were mega famous, but if you mentioned their names people would turn around and ask "who?".

This is why interviewing Harry Styles was a massive thing for you.

Not very often did you get to do work out in the field, especially in these covid infested days, but nevertheless it was your favourite part of the job. Getting to meet the people you were writing about was completely refreshing, allowing you to obtain a clearer outlook on which direction to take on your journal piece.

You were asked to go to Stonehenge, where the photoshoot was being filmed, as your office of interview. Even though you'd lived in the UK all your life, you'd never actually been to Stonehenge. It wasn't really on your bucket-list, but it was a pleasure to get to see it all the same.

Being the prepared interviewer you were, you'd prepared an array of questions that you were set on asking Harry. You'd never met him before, but after much googling and youtubing of him prior to meeting him today you would already be confident in saying he's the most brilliant man to ever exist. You were really nervous that you were going to screw this interview up and make a terrible mess in front of Harry Styles.

"Lisa! What if I accidentally say something I shouldn't?" You ran your stressed hands through your hair.

This whole morning had been frantic. It had started off by you waking up late, no thanks to Lisa, your best-friend and co-worker, pressing snooze on the alarm. You wanted to look professional today so you'd put on your best shirt - only to spill coffee down it ten minutes later. So now, you smelt of coffee and were wearing what was left in your wardrobe - and it wasn't much. The only things left clean were a pair of pink corduroy flares and some, pastel coloured, graphic t-shirt to go with it.    

"You won't. Stop being so negative." Lisa rolled her eyes, probably fed up with the amount of winging she'd heard from you this morning - and you'd only been awake an hour.

"My outfit is hardly professional either." You huffed, pouring the rest of your, second, coffee down the drain.

"Well I think you look gorgeous." Lisa stated, whilst putting her breakfast bar wrapper in the bin.

You and Lisa were back and forth about you stressing, and such, for about half an hour before you had to leave. You had a great panic about losing your glasses too. You could see without them up close, but for long distance viewing and reading you were practically blind. You were taking Lisa's car, since she didn't think you were emotionally stable enough to drive. Lisa was the creative director on the set, and thank goodness she was so you could at least ramble to someone.

After a two hour drive up from London, you arrived at Stonehenge and it was freezing. Although the sun was out, it did nothing to keep your body heated. The journey up had been nice because you sat in your nicely heated car, chatting away with Lisa and blasting some Harry Styles out of the speaker. You'd made it through the first album, and the second one up to Canyon Moon before reaching your destination.

Upon arriving you could just about, without glasses, make out about 15 other cars, arranged at the bottom of a hill. There was an array of Audis and BMWs, a few Range Rovers, which you placed your bets on one was Harrys, and a green, vintage, Jaguar which was most likely belonging to the fashion editor or something. There was also a modern barn, perched at the foot of the hill, which was where Harry would be getting changed in to his various different outfits.

It took you a moment to register that Lisa had parked and was already clambering out of the car, making you look a little idiotic still blankly staring at the beautiful scenes in front, and around, of you.

But it was still bloody freezing.

You jogged a little to the boot and whipped out your white cardigan. Originally you'd thought that this would've been enough to keep you warm, but now you were starting to think otherwise.

The atmosphere here was amazing. People were rushing around left, right and centre loading, and unloading, various pieces of equipment and clothes. You caught sight of brightly coloured fabrics being carried to and from various places. There were the camera crew, and presumably director, all chatting amongst themselves. The smell of the very fresh air was so lush that you'd forgotten what it smelt like - especially after years in London.

You grabbed your bag from the boot, which had your notes, recording kit and laptop stuffed inside, before locking the car and following Lisa in to the barn.

It was lovely and warm inside - a completely different climate to than the outside. It was as if it was Bali inside and Antarctica outside. Better Bali than Antarctica though.

"Ok. Let's put our stuff down over here and then go find people we need to meet and such." Lisa instructed, you still too in awe of the place to fully comprehend what was going on.

You followed Lisa and you two ended up dropping off your stuff next to some other bags. You took a liking to the purse next to your stuff. Next to your bag, it made yours seem ancient - like it was worth nothing more than a penny. It was luscious and a beautiful baby blue colour. You softly ran your hands over it, finding satisfaction in how smooth and subtle it was.

"Hope you're not planning on stealing that, love." A manly voice appeared from behind you. You whipped around to see who's bag you'd been messing with, and it was just your luck that it was to be Harry Styles'. Of all the people's it could've been it had to be his. 

Perfect.

He looked dashing. He was in black flares and his iconic 'But daddy i love him', t-shirt, along with a huge green anorak. His hair was prettily clipped back with a pink clip, presumably placed there to gave his curls greater volume. In his hand he had a pink toothbrush and you guessed he'd come back over to put it away in his bag - only to find you caressing it instead.

"Oh - no, no. Not at all. I - uh - I just thought it was beautiful." You stammered over your words, choosing them carefully to try and make you look less like an active criminal.

"Mhm." Harry nodded whilst looking you up and down, most likely judging why a peasant like you, in comparison to him, was touching his expensive property. "Well, I love your flares darlin'." Harry looked down at your trousers, his compliment making you blush a little.

"Thank you. That wasn't professional, and neither is my outfit, I know, and I apologise." You added, because you knew that if your boss knew you turned up today the way you did she would give you a right bollocking - and potentially even fire you.

"Never apologise for flares. You look amazing." Gemma perked up, making you feel more self conscious surrounded by all these other beautiful women. Gemma was in a slouchy, knitted, jumper and basic jeans - no doubt all from shops beyond your budget - and yet she looked like a model fit for the runway for Vogue.

"Okay, sorry." You apologised again, to which you, creepily, got the exact same, stern, look from the Styles siblings at the same time.

"My stylist, Harry, introduced me to big pants. He offered whether I wanted to try a pair of flares, and I was like, 'Flares? That's fucking crazy'!" Harry laughed as he told his story, earning a laugh out of you too. "Now they're my favourite item of clothing. Have a whole wardrobe dedicated to them."

"I wish he was joking." Gemma laughed at her brother and his flare obsession.

"Well you do look handsome in them, so I understand why." Your words rolls off your tongue before you could even comprehend what you were saying. Only after you finished your sentence did you completely intake what you'd just said.

"Good start." Lisa giggled to you, before turning to walk over to the coffee station. It was a help-yourself coffee bar and you knew that you were going to bed at least five cups to get over the last five minutes alone. You'd probably drain the station before letting anyone else have any.

"Oh god." You awkwardly mumbled, not daring to see how weirdly Harry would be looking at you, before walking off outside.

You had spent less than 10 minutes here and yet you'd never felt like a bigger clown. Joining the circus had never been so easy.

The outside wind hit you like a powerful leaf blower, and your hair blew around like crazy - most likely compiling into a birds nest on the top of your head.

Today was supposed to be the start of something great. Your hopes were set on a promotion from your written masterpiece, whilst enjoying the company of one of the most handsome, most lovely, most talented men of this century. Those hopes seemed a little too distant now. They seemed to mock you, as if to laugh at how you ever thought you were going to be any more successful. You'd completely, in more ways than one, made a fool of yourself in front of your interviewee, you were so underdressed, you were caught fondling his Gucci purse and you were still bloody cold.

It all felt too unprofessional for a job where professional was practically the driving force of the company.

You leaned against the barn, taking a deep breath to try and calm yourself. You were a master in over-thinking, but unfortunately that wasn't something you could add to your resumé. You let your eyes close and the other senses come alive for a few moments. The sounds of distant sheep and the smell of the cold wind were just two of the senses that allowed you to take a step back for a minute, and breathe.

"Thank you." A voice interrupted you from your attempt of quick meditation. You looked to your left and noticed Harry standing there, still in the same outfit as before.

"I'm sorry?" You asked confused, taking a step away from the barn to considerately pay more attention to him.

"Thank you - for saying I look handsome in flares." He repeated, smirking when he added the second part.

"Oh." Was all you could respond, feeling too embarrassed to take the conversation any further. "I should—" You pointed back to the barn, using it as an excuse to leave before yet screwed up anymore.

"Lisa told me you're the interviewer." Harry added, and it only occurred to you that you'd never actually introduced yourself. "So it's lovely to finally meet you Y/N." He stuck out his hand for your to shake, which you did willingly. His hands were a lot softer than you'd expected.

"Ho... You know my name?" You asked surprised.

"Of course. I also know you're the best writer in Vogue right now." He flattered you, which made you blush. You had a feeling he'd make you do that a lot today.

"Sure." You rolled your eyes as you spoke sarcastically.

"Well I chose you for a reason, didn't I?" He rhetorically asked.

"I mean.. I, well.. I don't know?" You stumbled over your words, making yourself look like a larger fool than you did already. Today was just turning out to be exactly what you didn't want it to be. "Sorry."

"Stop apologising. You do it too often." He told you, nearly making you apologise again but he gave you a jokingly stern look, as if he knew what you were going to say, and so you decided otherwise.

"Harry!" You both turned to see there was a man waving towards you both, but specifically to Harry. "Come get changed!" The same man shouted. Harry lifted his thumbs up, as if to signal he'd be there shortly.

Harry turned back to you and noticed you shiver a little.

"I'll start the interview after I come back from the dressing rooms, yeah?" Harry asked, taking off his, khaki green, trench-coat in the process. He handed it to you before you could oblige against it.

"Wait what?" You confusedly looked down at the coat and back up to Harry.

"Gives me a piece of mind knowing my interviewer isn't going to die of hypothermia before actually interviewing me." He smiled, obviously attempting to crack a joke and you have to admit you did laugh.

"Thank you." You say, before he runs off to where he's being called to.

                                                            ••••

You'd been sat inside for a little while, waiting for Harry to come back. It gave you time to perfect your questions though.

Thinking up questions to ask Harry had been a challenging task, but one that you'd been fully invested in. You loved creating questions to ask him that were going to get to understand him on a deeper level. He was a very private man, and you completely respected that. If you crossed any boundaries, with the questions you'd ask, you would write them out of the interview. You liked to think you hadn't thought up a question that would make him feel uncomfortable though.

Pissing off Harry would be on another level of shame.

"Coat kept you warm?" Harrys voice disengaged you from your notebook.

"Hm?" You asked then replayed what he'd just asked in your mind. "Oh, yes. Thank you very much." You stood up, from where you'd been perched on the floor, picking up your nearly finished green tea as you did so.

Only when you stood up did it come to your realisation that Harry was now in costume. He was dressed in luxury. Each item looked like it cost more than your rent, and that was saddening. He looked rich and luxurious. To be quite honest, you were finding it rather difficult to take your eyes off him.

"You think the outfit is Vogue enough?" Harry asked, striking a few poses, which made you laugh. It was refreshing to see him act so relaxed and carefree, rather than a stuck-up-prick you knew some celebrities to be.

"Completely. I love it!" You exclaimed, appreciating the twirl he did for you.

He was wearing a kilt-like skirt and he looked beyond beautiful in it. Fuck toxic masculinity. Fuck being a manly man - like what does that even mean? Harry was embracing gender fluidity and experimenting the ways in which there was no definitive line between men and women's clothes anymore, and you thought it was marvellous. Revolutionary, for times as politically and socially troubled as these.

You started removing the coat in attempt to give it back to him, but he refrained you from doing so by holding on to your forearm.

"Keep it. I thought we could go outside to start the interview, so you'll be needing that." Harry told you, and you agreed - however reluctantly that was. You couldn't really complain though, because the coat did kept you warm and, what's better, it smelt divine - just like you'd imagine Harry to smell.

"Okay. Thank you. Do you want to go now?" You asked hesitantly, not knowing whether he was busy for someone else right now.

"Whenever you're ready, love." He answered, making you feel more relaxed. He was going at your pace and was making you feel settled - he was even more of a gentleman than people described him to be.

The two of you had walked around the backside of the barn in silence, enjoying the comfort of each other's presence. Well, at least you were. It was a blessing no one was back here. It was just you, Harry and the scenery that surrounded Stonehenge.

You approached a bench and you plopped yourself down on one end, whilst Harry sat on the other. He respected the fact that there was a pandemic going on, and didn't want to make you uncomfortable in any way. You still had your mask on, so Harry had taken that as you were very conscious about the virus - which he admired.

You pulled out your glasses, from the depths of one of the coat pockets, and placed them on your face, probably making yourself look even geekier than you already felt. Today was just one of those days you wished you had good eyes...

You opened your spent notebook, musty pages practically falling apart, and turned to the section of questions you needed for that interview. You were so nervous already and you hadn't even asked anything yet, all because of the previous interactions with Harry today. Your shaky hands shuffled through the pages and you cursed under your breath when you struggled to find what you needed.

"Shoot. Come on." You mumbled quietly under your breath, hoping it would make this terrible situation end faster. You mustn't have been as quiet as you thought though.

"Y/N." Harry's name broke through your clouded mind of self-disappointment.

You looked up at him to see him softly smiling at you, blowing all worries away from you away with the wind. "Yes?" You timidly asked, pushing your wind-swept hair out of glasses - where it'd gotten caught.

"You’re alright, love. You don't have to be professional around me, alright? We're just two strangers having a conversation, to get to know each other, okay?" If his words didn't calm you enough, the soothing sound of his husky voice certainly did.

"But that would mean you asking me stuff too?" You replied, confused at his implications of the phrasing 'getting to know each other'.

"Mhm." Harry nodded his head.

"Oh I don't know Mr Styles, i'm not a very interesting person." You answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, pushing your glasses back up the bridge of your nose from where they'd fallen.

"I refuse to believe that." Harry chuckled, making a quick smile appear on your face. "And please call me Harry. Just Harry." He begged, obviously finding it weird you calling him by his professional title. All you wanted, ever, was for your interviewee's to feel comfortable and safe, so if Harry wanted you to call him Harry then so be it.

"Ok, Harry," you sarcastically said, earning a shake of the head on his behalf, "you can ask me a few questions throughout the day." You told him, but you knew he'd struggle to find even two questions when he realises how bland you are.

"Does that mean you only get to ask me a few as well?" Harry smirked, already knowing the answer to that question. Unlike Harry, you had to write an article about today when you got home and so he knew that you'd have to dig as much dirt as possible from him.

"No, sorry. I don't particularly want to lose my job." You paused to look down at your notes, squinting a little as you did to see better. "Okay. Tell me your experience with corona virus."

"Sorry I didn't quite catch that, love." Harry apologised, leaning in slightly to see if he could hear you a second time around.

"Sorry." You looked down to fiddle with your fingers - a habit you'd undertaken when you're embarrassed. "Um..," you cleared your throat, "would you mind if I took off my mask?"

Your timid voice sent tingle down Harrys spine. He didn't think anyone could ever be this sweet. "Not at all, ‘course you can." He replied, again, wanting to make you feel as comfortable as possible.

You hesitantly took off your face mask, feeling like you were in some dramatic movie where they face revealed someone. You kind of liked having the mask on, because, for one, it kept you warm, and for two, you were a little self conscious with how you looked compared to all the other women here today. You shoved the mask in your pocket, with trembling fingers, before looking back down to your notes.

"Woah." You heard Harrys voice being mumbled under the wind. You eyes shot up to his and you noticed him staring right back at you.

"W-what? Is my acne playing up? I knew I should've—" You self-consciously run your hands over the areas you know you got acne. The masks really didn't help when it came to skin care.

"Hey, stop. No. You just... You look beautiful." Harry complimented you, and a roaring blush arose on to your cheeks. You'd never been called beautiful before, and so you were taking the compliment like such a 13-year old.

"Oh, uh, thank you." You awkwardly answered, not really having any other words come to mind in that moment. Harry chuckled under his breath, still keeping eyes on you for some reason.

"Would you mind repeating your last question, I didn't quite catch it?" Harry asked politely.

"Sure. Um, tell me how you've experienced corona virus." You repeated for him, gripping ahold of your pen to start copying what he says and pressing start on your recording device in case you needed it later.

"Well, it's been tedious that's for sure. However, I just want people to be safe and for life to return back to normal, so therefore i've been very MIA for a lot of the time. Keeping to myself mostly. I only went out for hikes or bike rides. All my meetings were online, so it's been very lonely." Harry kept eye contact with your figure the entire time, and if it weren't for you concentrating on writing what he was saying then you'd probably melt away under his gaze.

For such soft eyes he sure was intimidating.

"I presume the loneliness sent you crazy at times." You laughed, because you sure felt that way through lockdown. Curse being single.

"You have no idea." Harry laughed along with you, making you, slowly, feel more at ease.

"Actually, you'd be surprised." You looked at him unsure, before returning down to your notebook.

"Okay then, first question from me," Harrys words made your head shoot up, "How can someone as amazing as yourself be lonely?" He asked and you made a mental tally of how many questions he'd asked.

"Could ask you the very same question, Harry." You slyly replied, avoiding the question by answering with another question. It was a tactic you'd learnt, throughout your years of journalism, when you wanted to dismiss something .

"That's cheating." Harry pointed at you and raised his eyebrows, but you couldn't take your eyes off the big, cheeky, smile perched on his face. You shrugged you're shoulders in defence and returned to your questions. "But you did just call me amazing, so I think i'll let it slide this one time." You blushed, again, when you understood what he meant.

He was amazing though - that was the truth.

"You were in L.A. for the majority of quarantine, am I right to say?" You already knew the answer but your manager had just wanted confirmation.

"Yeah, but L.A. feels like holiday, whereas London feels like home." He answered, which you appreciated. He hasn't got lost in the way that Hollywood could let people. He'd stayed grounded.

"So what did you entertain yourself with during quarantine?" You asked curiously, slightly side-tracking from your pre-written questions - just because you were intrigued (nosey).

"Not much, not to be boring. I ate a lot of bread. I worked out pretty much every day. I wrote quite a bit actually." He used his fingers to pinch his bottom lip, something you'd noticed he did in interviews.

"Does that mean a new album on the way?" Your inner fangirl was screaming at the thought of HS3.

"Can neither confirm nor deny." Harry smirked to himself, like the cheeky bugger he is.

"That's a yes then." You joked, pretending to write it down in your notes.

"You're impossible, you." Harry laughed and shook his head. It made you feel all funny the way you could make him smile like that. You were the source of his happiness for just that moment, and that was enough to make you feel happy for a lifetime - not that he felt the same.

"Next question," you stated, moving swiftly on because you knew you had limited time, "How's your experience with Vogue been so far?"

"Wonderful. Everyone has been so welcoming and that makes it so much easier for me to have fun. It's daunting going at things alone, but i'm getting slowly used to it now." Harry sniffled a little, probably due to the freezing cold weather here.

"Must be strange, not having four best friends around you, all the time, anymore." You stated rather than asked him, sure that he was missing his bandmates. I mean, you were - so he definitely would be.

"Brothers." Harry replied, making you look up at him confused.

"I'm sorry?" You asked, giving him your full attention.

"You said four best friends. Well, actually they're my brothers." His words actually caused a rift in your heart. You could feel it being pulled apart and torn in to two. If you wrote this in to the magazine the fans would have a worldwide passing-away-party.

"Harry." You said softly, slightly tearing up at his words. "God, I swear i'm not normally this emotional." You chest your throat and try to establish your dignity - however there wasn't that much left anymore.

"Oh shut up." Harry looked away obviously trying to hide the fact that he was tearing up too. You laughed at him but didn't draw any more attention to it than you guessed he would've wanted.

"They mean a lot to you then?" You asked, hopefully not treading on any unwanted territories.

"Much more than a lot, yeah." Harry nodded his head, turning it back to face you. He could tell this conversation was now off-the-record because of your closed notebook, your undivided attention towards him and the fact you’d turned off the recording device. He liked being able to look at you, rather than the top of your head. He swore you were the prettiest girl he'd ever seen.

"You still see them often?" 

"Not as often as i'd like. Niall did come around the other week to drop off some old guitars he didn't want anymore, and then we ended up playing around with some music for a bit." He admitted, which stitched your heart back together.

"So does that mean a Narry collab?" You teased, biting your bottom lip in anticipation.

"Narry? You so are a directioner." He laughed along with you.

"And you just avoided my question, therefore there is a song out there written only by you and Niall." You concluded, which shut him up.

This conversation was going a lot better than expected. Certainly a lot better than earlier. You will be permanently scarred by the way you spoke to him and handled his belongings. It was going to haunt you forever - and yet he'd forget about it by tomorrow. Or maybe he wouldn't, which is why you felt the need to apologise.

"Harry?" You asked, clearly indicating this was still a conversation away from the interview.

"Yes Y/N?" He watched you intently, listening to your every word.

"I, um, just wanted to apologise for my behaviour earlier. I was just really nervous to meet you, and to be honest still am. I didn't mean to touch your stuff without your consent and I certainly didn't mean to make you uncomfortable with any of my comments. So, i'm sorry. I can only imagine the awful, yet true, things you must think of me." You rambled really quickly, that you were uncertain whether Harry even caught one word of what you'd says.

"Do you know why I asked for you to interview me Y/N?" Harry asked, which wasn't the first thing you expected him to say after your apology.

"No. I...well Lisa told me it was because I can write well or something." You suggested, not wanting to sound egotistical.

"I mean you do write perfectly, but no." You were intrigued now. "I asked for you because I, and this is not for your magazine, have a secret - but not-so-secret - crush on you." This time it was Harrys turn to blush.

"Harry... you don't have to say that to—"

"I'm not saying it for anything. I sincerely think you are the most delightful, most prettiest, most fucking sweetest person i've ever met." Harry exclaimed, which you were taken aback by. Never, ever, did you think that Harry Styles would proclaim his likeness towards you. Ever.

"Harry don't mess with me, please." You shyly spoke, tilting your head down in disbelief that the Harry Styles was smitten about you.

He shuffled along the bench, stopping a little way from you but close enough to reach out for you. Your heartbeat increased when you noticed his hand move closer towards you. It didn't stop till he reached your face. He took his time, courteously, pushing your hair behind your ear before removing you of your glasses. He held the right-eye frame and slowly pulled the glasses off your face.

Once he'd successfully taken them off he folded them up and placed them alongside your closed notebook.

"Can see those pretty eyes now." He whispered quietly, but loud enough for you to hear.

"Don't lie. They're so dull." You mumbled, lifting your head up slightly. His face was still away from you.

"Not to me they're not." He retaliated, looking deep into your eyes as you did his. "I hate this corona virus."

"Why?" His words were so out of the blue sometimes, it gave you whiplash.

"Because I can't be as near to you as I want to be." Harry told you. And yeah, you hated corona too. It was getting a little laborious now.

"Smooth, Styles." You chuckled. You wondered how many new and weird pick-up lines could be made from covid. 

"I know." He winked, which honestly would have made you throw up if it were any other man on the planet. Somehow, though, Harry just made it seem attractive - along with every other thing that man ever did. "After this, would you like to come back to my house for a cuppa tea?" He asked sweetly, like a five year old asking whether you wanted to play together.

"Okay. Lisa was my ride though." You said more to yourself than anything else, debating on how you'd even get to Harrys. Uber? Taxi? Lisa? Walk?

"I'll drive us, it's fine. I have to drop Gem off, but i'd be more than happy to chauffeur you." Harry kindly offered, to which you were internally screaming about. You were literally, and metaphorically, having a field-day with all this Harry content and interview.

"Are you sure? I don't want to be a burden." You question politely, not wanting to overstep any boundaries - especially in these covid infested times.

"Of course. I wouldn't have offered otherwise." He protested, waving his hand at if to say it was no bother. You were already trying to work out, in your head, how much petrol money you were going to owe him.

"Then i'd be honoured to have a brew with you Harry." You giggled at how cringe you were being, even if this was just your normal self speaking.

"Great." Harry genuinely smiled, teeth and all. "My shoot should take a couple of hours, but feel free to continue to write and journal. I'm looking forward to reading this particular article." He winked at you before standing up.

"Wonder why?" You sarcastically asked, knowing full-well it was due to his exposure of his own feelings towards you. Even though you'd never says anything back you were quite in agreement on how you felt about him, like he did you. He would be a narcissist to say he knew you liked him the same, out loud, but he knew. And you knew that he knew.

"Wonder why indeed." He gave you one last smile before he'd disappeared for the rest of the afternoon, leaving you to digest and relive the past half an hour or so.

Being Harry Styles' crush was probably the biggest flex you could ever make.

                                                          ••••

After Harry had finished up his shoot he was quick to come find you again.

You'd watched parts of his shoot and he looked magnificent. There wasn't a good enough word to describe how amazing he looked. Harry, his stylist, was probably the best stylist out there. His fashion choices were unmatched and you wanted him to be yours. You were not rich enough nor fashionable enough, ironic for working in a a fashion company, to hire a stylist, but you would if you could.

You were so proud to see what he was achieving now as the person that he was. Harry was just being Harry, without the devilish control of shitty managements or ridiculous amounts of PR stunts. Harry was more free than ever, and it definitely showed just how much he was enjoying it.

You were certain that this Vogue magazine would break the internet - his fans were good at doing that. This could be a turning point for many people, with their outdated and ignorant views. There was no room for people with racist or homophobic or transphobic or xenophobic - and the list does go on - views anymore.

You were waiting by the front door of the barn, to catch Harry as he walked past. You caught sight of him in a white robe, presumably to get changed back into his everyday clothes. He looked really pretty in the robe - very domestic actually.

Today had been a good day.

Harry asked you to send over the more specific Vogue questions to him via email, so he could devote more time in to answering them in a lot more depth. You thought he meant you'd be sending them to some PA in his team, but you were shocked to understand he'd given you his personal email.

People were walking back to their cars and packing away the filming kit. You saw Lisa and the director talking to one another, no doubt discussing some in-work gossip.

"You ready?" Harrys voice reminded you that you'd been waiting for him. You looked to see he was back in the same clothes as this morning, only this time without his coat.

"Here?" You offered, having him over the coat once again but he declined.

"Looks better on you anyways." He winked at you, before walking through the car park and to his car. You were very surprised when you found out Harry was the one to own the green Jaguar. You assumed all celebrities drove the Range Rover, but no. The vintage car added to Harrys immaculate vibe and just made him that little bit more hot.

Harry properly introduced you to Gemma, who was equally as lovely as Harry. They were both amazing people and they were crazily alike. From the way they looked, down to the way they phrased their words, they were mistakingly twins. Gemma explained how Anne, their mum, didn't know they were doing this photoshoot and that it was going to be a surprise, which you thought was so cute.

Gemma spilt a lot of gossip on Harry, to which he got very embarrassed over. You learnt that Harrys first word was Cat. You learnt that Harry is godfather to multiple children, which you found heartwarming. You learnt Harry used to be a baker - which was something he elaborated on for a good half an hour. Harry was just a fountain of memories and Gemma was the one sharing them all with you.

The drive back to London was relaxed. You sat in the back, listening to Harry and Gemma pointlessly argue whilst an Arctic Monkeys album played in the background. You forgot that people like Harry drove, and listened to music, just like other regular people. You often misplaced celebrities in society, thinking they had everything done for them but in reality that (often) wasn't the case - at least not for Harry.

Gemma was dropped off quickly before Harry drove to his. It was no surprise that the Styles siblings didn't live too far away from each other. Harrys house was beautiful. Bigger than anything you could ever dream of buying. It was a palace compared to your cupboard-sized house. You were unbelievably jealous. He gave you the tour of the house, showing you where the toilets were, and even his panic room if necessary.

You migrated to the kitchen for a bit, talking about anything and everything. Getting to know the minuscule pieces of information that no-one else was trusted with, made you feel special. Harry made you feel special - even if he weren't meaning to.

Every moment held a spark. Every touch set off a firework. Every laugh was an electric burst. He made you feel so alive.

"We can go to the living room after this has boiled." Harry said, pointing towards the streaming kettle. He wanted to show off his fancy tea collection he had, and let you have a try if you wanted to. Harry was boring and chose the basic green tea, but, after much deliberation, you chose the cranberry green tea. It intrigued you and it sounded delicious.

"Why the extensive tea collection?" Not even you, a certified caffeine addict, had this much tea in your house. Coffee was a different story and one in which you didn't want to talk about.

"They help me with my meditation." He took the teabags and placed them in his glass mugs. They had a delicate Gucci stamp on them, and you just imagined that they probably worth the same amount as your daily salary.

"You meditate?" You were slightly surprised that he did.

"I try to yeah." Harry nodded, focusing on pouring in the boiling water into the mugs. "I've got very tight hamstrings and so it helps if I meditate twice a day."

Harry finished making the tea, in the light-filled kitchen, before showing you around to the open-lounge area. Everything was modern and chic. It was exactly how you imagined it, but better. The open, red-brick, wall was a beautiful feature and one that you were a whore for! It reminded you of New York and the memories you'd made there one summer.

The sofa was a beautiful velvet, green, sofa. It was soft and gentle, a lot like Harry when you thought about it. The whole house was an architectural masterpiece and you'd be lying if you said you weren't jealous. You sat on one end and Harry went to go and sit on the other end.

"I don't bite you know?" You joked, self-consciously wondering whether he didn't want to be sat near you.

"I know, I just don't want to step on any of your covid boundaries - which is perfectly fine by the way." He added, apprehensively taking the spot next to you.

"No, not at all." You ushered him to sit next to you, as you took a sip from your steaming hot cup of fruity tea. "If I smell though, do tell me!"

"Yeah, you smell bloody awful!" Harry sarcastically remarked, but laughing afterwards to assure you he was joking. The atmosphere went quiet for a minute, only the sounds of passing cars and deep breaths being heard.

"Y/N can I ask you something?" Harry turned the tone of the conversation. It sounded like he wanted to be more serious than you two were being beforehand.

"Anything." You encouraged him to continue. You placed the cup of tea down on the table, deciding it was too hot to drink right now, and gave him your full attention.

"Do you believe in love at first sight?" Harry questioned. You didn't think you'd be having a conversation this intense - especially if you had different opinions - on your first day of knowing each other, but here you were.

"I believe you can love someone at first sight. I don't believe you can be in love with someone at first sight. Why?" You were curious as to how his brain had journeyed to this particular topic. You'd never really had this conversation with anyone before, mainly because you were unaware of the true power, and meaning, of love.

"It uh... It doesn't matter." Harry shook his head and you could tell by his body language that he was shutting you out. Maybe you'd made him uncomfortable.

"Sorry I didn't mean to—"

"No, no. Please don't apologise. It's just - I like you a lot more than you may think." Harry shyly told you, which made you all soft inside. He was being vulnerable and that was something you admired in a partner. You didn't just need love, affection and trust in a relationship. No. You needed vulnerability and heartbreak too, and Harry was revealing that part of him to you.

"I like you a lot more than you think too." You repeated, not because you felt bad for him but because you truly did like him a whole lot. Love was a weird yet wonderful thing, and if you were to hazard a guess you'd say you loved Harry. 

You couldn't wait to be in love with him.

"Does that mean I get to crown you my girlfriend?" Harry excitedly asked. Harry happy was something that should be made a constant, and you were more than happy to be in control of that.

"At least take me out first." You bargained, wishing for nothing more than to go on a date with Harry. Where you'd go, you had no idea. Everything was closed right now and there was still the chance of becoming sick with corona, but no doubt Harry would think of something not only clever, but special.

Of course you'd love to be Harrys girlfriend. However, you wanted one more, official, opportunity to really get to know him - unprofessionally. You wanted to make sure that you knew, and he knew, that you wanted to be with him because he was the charming Harry you've come to love, not because he was Harry Styles.

"So you're allowing me to take you on a date?" Harry smirked like a little child, your heart fluttering at how excited he was to be able to treat you to dinner.

"Yes, Harry. Yes I am." You answered sweetly, offering him the cutest smile you could.

You can't believe what a turn of events today has been. You've gone from nearly writing yourself on Harrys enemy list to writing yourself on to his 'people he's dated' list. Who knows what the future would offer you. At the start of the day you had wished this whole day to end and for the ground to just swallow you up, now you never wanted it to end. It was too perfect to be true and yet it was.

Harry was the most wonderful human to exist and you were beyond surprised to be the one to catch his attention. You didn't understand why you were so special, but it was nice to feel like this for a change. It was nice to feel wanted.

                                                             ••••

A few months later and you were officially Harrys girlfriend.

It had been such a crazy few months. Harry religiously took you out on dates every week. Whether it be to grab a hotdog at a local diner, a coffee from a quaint cafe, a walk in Hyde Park or a late-night drive around London - which normally ended up with you falling asleep before you could make it back to yours. On sleepless jet-lagged nights he'll still drive through London's quiet streets, seeing neighborhoods in a new way, just as an excuse to spend time with you.

Harry often stayed over at yours. Even though you looked like you lived in a shoebox compared to Harry, he liked it. He liked the subtly and normality of it all. He wanted your life to remain as normal as possible and, apart from the occasional paparazzi incident, it did. You never had anything to complain about. Of course the online bullying created emotional wounds, at the start of your relationship, but it was nothing that Harry couldn't repair with a bit of love.

Lisa has nominated herself to be maid-of-honour when the day comes - if the day comes. Harry has already pinky sworn that you are it for him. The one, as some may say. You were utterly flattered, but you certainly unsure of what the future help for you both.

You loved Harry, you do love Harry and you will forever always love Harry.

It was ridiculous to think that all this stemmed from you working at Vogue. From you studying English Literature in a city away from London. From you dedicating you extra hours gaining work experience and money to be able get in and afford university. So many moments in life have you stopped and said 'i wish i hadn't have done that', but now you were convinced that they were the best things to have happened to you - because they lead you, all, to Harry.

And, being Harry Styles girlfriend was probably the biggest flex you could ever make.

[chippedaxe]

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

Title: Irritated Arousal

Warning(s): cursing, NSFW, thigh f!cking, sub reader, tell me if I should add more warnings.

Pronouns: They/Them, non specific anatomy

Synopsis: Karl with a reader that gets angry when they’re h word <3

Pairing: c!Karl X Sub! Reader

Word count: 1.7k

Note: unedited* idk why I wrote this? I was just bored one night and couldn’t think of anything else to do.

- also don’t bully the title, LITERALLY couldn’t think of anything better!

- also I copied and pasted this from my notes instead of writing it on tumblr so that’s why it might look a bit weird or different!

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

Your head whipped around to stare blankly at the silly boy “what?” You spat out at him as he stared back dumbfounded “why’re you upset, is it because of me?” He poked your cheek innocently and you slapped his hand away.

“Yes! It is- go away!” You waved him off “please tell me what’s wrong! What did I do???” He started nagging at you and pulling at your clothes which annoyed you even more “stop it Karl!” You exclaimed “ah- sorry!” He pulled away and apologised “I just- I’m really annoyed right now!” Your face was tinted with what he thought was anger but was really embarrassment.

You knew how you got when you were horny and you knew the crabby attitude that you were portraying was just a front to hide how desperate you are. You crossed your arms and tried to take it off your mind, trying to avoid Karl as well.

“Come on sweetheart, what did I do wrong?” Karl caressed your cheek and you shivered slightly “don’t do that- I told you! I’m just annoyed!” You pushed him away “would it be better if I let you alone for a bit?” Karl got up to give you some space but you stopped him “Yes! Wait- no? Maybe? ugh- I don’t know!” You held your head in your hands.

Your thought process is literally fucked when you’re horny, most of the time you’re unable to think of things other than sex when you’re aroused. “Can I do anything to make you feel better?” Karl gave a sweet smile, you knew exactly how you wanted to answer that but hesitated.

“Maybe..” you considered whether or not to just straight out tell him, you’d expect him to tease you for being cranky over something so silly. “What can I do for you, honey?” Karl leaned back on the couch “you.. could..” you tried to think of something but your mind only led you back to one thing. Sex.

“AH! You’re a stupid nerd!” You shouted and then stomped off, you were obviously irritated and a bit annoyed but you didn’t wanna say or do anything that would actually be damaging. “Stupid? I’m literally the smartest person in the world” he joked around and you gave him a weird look.

“Aw come on! I thought you’d like that!” He lowered his head, you sighed in defeat. He was really trying to cheer you up even though he didn’t know what was wrong! You may as well tell him your problem, right? I mean he should be happy to help!

“What is it?” He noticed your sigh and came over to caress your face, you lowered your head and buried your face in his chest as you confessed sheepishly “I’m horny.” He gave out a little laugh “sorry- what?” He asked again “I’m.. horny!” Your face was full of embarrassment, you felt slightly humiliated.

“Is that all? I thought you were really upset with me for a moment!” He snickered, his lips pressing to your cheek for a moment. He straightened his back “alright then- we walking back to the bedroom or are you happy for me to take you here on the couch?” You pouted at his question, obviously you didn’t care where he stuffed his dick inside of you!

You didn’t bother to move so he just assumed you wanted to fuck on the couch, Karl got on top of you and started to lean in for a kiss. You snubbed him and turned your head, you still weren’t feeling happy with how long he took to figure out you were horny!

“Still mad? That’s alright, I’ll fuck the happiness into you! Or at least fuck the anger out” Karl kissed your temple lovingly “shut up” you tried not to smile at his silliness “make me!” Karl tried to kiss you again but this time you let him, his lips capturing yours in a passionate and loving kiss.

His lips were warm and soft, it made you melt underneath him- or the anger might just be melting you. You reached up and took a hand full of his hair, using it to deepen the kiss. Your tongue made its way into his mouth, the pink muscle slithering around every crevice of his mouth.

He pulled away for air, his face red and Karl’s hair sticking to his forehead. He was panting and starting to become really sweaty “aw gross! You’re all sweaty!” You complained but he laughed “oh baby, I know you love it!” He kissed your cheek again.

Karl unbuttoned his shirt and slid it off “it’s starting to really get hot in here” he sighed when the cold air hit his body. Karl then took your shirt off for you and inspected your body, the way he looked at it was like he’d never seen it before, like this was the last time and he’d never see it again.

You squirmed under his predatory like gaze “don’t stare at me like that, hun’ it’s making me feel exposed..” you complained lightly “oh I’m sorry darling, didn’t mean to make you feel ‘exposed’” he laughed to himself as he slowly leaned in and began leaving light kisses along your jawline.

You tilted your head back a bit to allow him more room, he smiled against your skin and began to suck a little bit as he kissed your jaw. His hands roamed your chest curiously, pinching and grabbing at the soft flesh. You whined out loud as he groped you up, hands clawing at the couch.

“Y-you’re taking too long..” you voiced your complaints, feeling slightly agitated at how he was testing your patience “just thought you might like a bit of foreplay, forgive me..” Karl caressed your cheek. You slapped his hand away and huffed “I’ll hurry it up now then, pants off please darling” he smiled at you.

You pulled your pants down your thighs and let it drop to the floor, thumbs hooking under the waist band of your underwear and sliding them off as well. Karl leaned back and admired your body, eyes glazing over every nook and cranny.

Karl gently parted your legs, his eyes immediately being drawn to your aching hole. “Oh darling, that looks painful.. let me help you” he lowered his hand down and allowed one of his slender fingers to curl up inside of you. You gasped and covered your mouth with your hand, eyes squinting to look at him.

“Is this too much?” He asked you, you shook your head and decided to be a bit of a brat “n-not enough.” You told him. Karl’s smile faltered for a bit but then returned when he shoved a second finger into you, your hole taking his hand so easily.

Your tight fleshy walls clenched around his two fingers, your breathing became a bit more heavy as you were starting to get close. “G-gonna cum..” you warned Karl “oh? Already? But I thought you wanted me to fuck you..” he pouted at you. You could see that he was obviously teasing you but you still gave him what he wanted.

You opened your legs up more and looked at him through your eyelashes, head tilting downward slightly “I want you to fuck me still..” you spoke quietly. Karl smiled and pulled his hand away from your hole which made you whine, you then quickly dismissed your negative feelings as he replaced his two fingers with his penis.

Karl slid himself into you gently, your hole already being stretched open- sucking him in. You leaned your head back and arched your back a bit, your hips aching from the hold that Karl had on them.

Karl gripped your hips tightly, starting to thrust against you. His balls slapped your ass with every thrust he did, the sounds of skin on skin echoing around the room. You hoped your disturbing noises wouldn’t be heard from outside.

You squealed and struggled to keep your mouth shut as Karl pressed himself deeper inside of you, the head of his cock pressing against your insides. Karl let out a soft groan as he rocked his hips against you, nails gently dragging along your thigh which left light scratch marks.

You couldn’t help letting out a loud moan, feeling much better letting it out than to conceal your pleasure. Karl started going faster the moment you started being more vocal which only encouraged you to stop being quiet.

You were sure the whole SMP could hear the two of you now, heaving sweaty bodies pressed to each other with the sounds of clapping and groaning in the room. Your hands wrapped around Karl’s torso, nails threatening to scratch his skin.

Tears pricked at your eyes gently as you felt what may have been the best orgasm of your entire life about to approach, you tapped Karl and tried to make it clear that you couldn’t hold on for him any longer and you had to let go “g-gonna cum!!” You exclaimed “that’s okay baby, do it for me..” he encouraged.

You let go, cumming around his cock. Juices from you started to leak out of your hole and onto your thighs, making you groan in annoyance “oh perfect.. Baby, you don’t mind if I get off with your thighs, do you?” Karl smiled up at you.

You shrugged and laid down, panting heavily as you tried to catch your breath, feeling a bit sensitive as Karl pulled out of you and slid himself between your legs. His dick slipped between both of your thighs closed together.

He started to fuck himself against you, now only thrusting for his own pleasure and enjoyment “oh thank you, baby..” he moaned out softly. His hands gripped onto your soft plushy thighs, his cock twitching against you which let you know he was about to cum.

Karl shuddered, his hips pausing their movement as he suddenly came; cum shooting out onto your thighs and covering a bit of your stomach. “Ah! Thank you!”Karl flopped on top of you, arms hugging your sweet body “No problem but I’m all dirty now!” You complained “I guess we’ll have to bathe together then, my dear” Karl chuckled before kissing your forehead and getting up to run you two a shower.

[emerald-chaos]

Touchdown

*gif not mine, credit goes to the owner*

I just want to take a moment to say thank you for the love on my last fic! It made my lil ole heart swell to see that peopled enjoyed it enough to leave a like or reblog.

This is just something special I had in my arsenal that I wrote for a friend a few months ago. I touched it up a bit and added a few things here and there. It all started when we were talking about how much we loved when Chris' accent got heavier after he'd been drinking, and well, I couldn't help myself lol. I hope you enjoy the fluff! xoxo

I apologize for any grammatical errors, I tried to proof-read but am also a little exhausted lol.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Word Count: 2844

Warnings: I don't think there's anyway? Mentions of being drunk/drinking alcohol, cursing, and illusions to sexy times, but that's about it.

You hadn’t noticed how furiously your knee was bouncing up and down until the person sitting next to you on the subway got up to move seats once the train squealed to a stop. You sighed and ran your hands down the front of your thighs. Normally being a little late didn’t bother you as much, but tonight you were meeting him.

You flipped your wrist over to check your watch. 8:30pm. In all honesty, it had probably been only thirty seconds later than when you checked it the last time. Another deep sigh escaped from your lips as you started to become hyper aware of the train remaining still at the current stop. What could possibly be taking so long? You knew he wouldn’t care if you were running late, but the time the two of you had together already felt so minuscule. You wanted to capitalize on every second you could.

The train began moving again and you slumped back into your seat, feeling only a small amount of relief. It was becoming painfully apparent that you needed to try and relax. You could feel the sweat building up on your body, the sting on your palms from where your fingernails were pressing in with a vengeance moments ago, and you could hear your heart thumping in your ears. Your hand dug around in your purse for a few moments before finding the small case you were looking for. Opening it, you slipped your headphones into your ears and let your head rest on the window behind you as music intertwined with your thoughts.

Once upon a time, you made fun of people who decided to go to grad school. What kind of a clown would spend thousands of MORE dollars and go BACK to school?? Not to mention the stress of the assignments, the due dates - it was not for you...or so you thought.

Now here you are, a regular booboo the fool.

NYU’s graduate program for design and merchandising wasn’t necessarily part of your 5-year plan, but when the opportunity landed in front of you it was difficult to pass up. NYU was a school you had only dreamt of attending back in high school. When you were a senior in high school you were able to tour the campus and fell in love immediately. Hours upon hours were spent researching grants, scholarships, and all sorts of ways to try to make it happen. However, the dream ended as most teenage dreams do - crushed. There was no way you or your parents could afford the loans that it would surely wrack up to attend the out of state university, and there was no way you could ask your parents take on that kind of debt just so you could go to college. UMass was the way to go - close to home and familiar. Not to mention you were able to obtain several scholarships and grants that helped bring down the cost tremendously. Little did you know, boring ole UMass would bring you one of the most important things in your life.

Applying for graduate school wasn’t an easy decision and one you couldn’t really take all the credit for. A smile crept across your face as you reminisced on the night you nervously brought up the idea to your long-term boyfriend.

“I think you should do it,”

“I know, right?” you scoffed, “it’s insane, why would I do something so stup...wait, what? You do?”

“Of course I do. This is something you love and that you’re passionate about. Do you know how many hours of my life were spent listening to you ramble about NYU?” he questioned with a grin.

“It will open up so many doors for you. We can make things work,” a chuckle escaped from those beautiful lips as he saw your dumbfounded expression. He wrapped his fingers around your waist and pulled you close, “What? Did you expect me to forbid it? Cmon, baby, what kind of guy do you take me for?”

You didn’t have a lot of wins in your life, but you did have Chris.

When you got accepted, he took off a week from work to drive you 3 and a half hours south to help get you settled and moved into your temporary new home. The two of you ate a disgusting amount of pizza, moved a ridiculous amount of heavy furniture in the middle of a summer heat wave, and enjoyed each other’s company before the long-distance thing would set in. Chris spent that week encouraging you every step of the way, talking you off the ledge when you were convinced you had made the wrong decision, and made sure to help you christen every possible surface of your new place in the most deliciously sinful way.

You bit your lip slightly at the thought and a warm feeling spread across your face. Chris was one of the most incredible people you had met in this world. Kind, caring, funny, intelligent, passionate, and god was he sexy. The connection the two of you had was scary at first, but now you just couldn’t imagine spending your life with anyone else.

The robotic voice came over the loud-speaker in the subway car and you were rudely ripped back to reality as it pulled into your stop. You hurriedly scooped up your bag and jogged off the train.

It had been a promise between the two of you when you moved that there would be equal effort when it came to visiting and keeping in contact while having good, open communication. Long distance was hard but the two of you were determined to make it work. FaceTime calls, hours upon hours of texting, and even as far as writing the occasional letter back and forth (because your boyfriend was a hopeless romantic and you loved it so much). This weekend was your turn to come home to visit, and of course your last class had to go longer than anticipated. Fuckin’ Tiffany and her stupid ass questions.

The muscles of your calves burned as you kept up your hurried pace, weaving through the crowds of people gathered on sidewalks outside of various clubs and restaurants. It was a weekend night and the Patriots were playing, which meant the city was more alive than usual. New York was it's own beast, but it was a different type of hustle and bustle. Nights like these made your heart ache for home - the thick Massachusetts accents, the rowdy voices of bar patrons arguing about the game, the hugs shared between family members as they parted after dinner, and the faint smell of nicotine and alcohol that hung in the air.

As the neon sign that hung in the pub window came in to view you felt your heart dip down into your stomach. Last weekend’s visit had to be cancelled due to some stuff coming up with Chris’ work and a surprise assignment for you, so you hadn’t seen your boyfriend in 2 weeks. With a deep breath you swung open the door and scanned the crowd for him. He told you that he would be there promptly at 7:15pm for pregame shenanigans with his friends - which actually translated to how many pitchers of beer could they suck down before kick off.

“Aw, come ON! That is such a bullshit call!”

You heard him before you saw him. Of course. A grin spread across your lips as you shook your head. The thought of leaving to avoid secondhand embarrassment crossed your mind briefly before you picked up your feet and made your way through the crowd toward the sound. A room full of people from New England and you would still recognize that voice anywhere.

Everyone else seemed to fade away as you saw the outline of the tall, dark haired man standing at the bar. The slight freckles that spattered the back of his neck, the Brady jersey that he spent WAY too much money customizing, and the signature backward ball cap were ingrained in your subconscious memory. Not to mention if you didn’t recognize his outline or his voice, you would definitely recognize that ass anywhere.

You loved how passionate he got about sports and the way his Boston accent seemed to get thicker with each beer he consumed. Growing up in the area, you wouldn't think the accent would send a tingle down your spine the way it does, but it was different - it was Chris. Not to mention the sparkle in his eye when he would watch his favorite team or the way he would get in to arguments whenever someone tried to say something negative about them. You loved your big, handsome, over-sized toddler man so damn much.

A light tap on his shoulder made him whip around, his slightly opened mouth from his interrupted conversation curved upwards into a wicked grin as he made the connection of who was finally standing in front of him.

“Hey there, handsome. I don’t see a ring on your finger. You single?” You grinned, feeling your entire body fill with warmth as Chris leaned back and grabbed his chest as he erupted in laughter.

“Nah, nah, nah, unfortunately for you I am taken” he responded as he snaked his arms around your waist, sliding his hands into your back pockets as he pulled you into his figure.

“That is too bad,” you tsk'd, running a finger down his toned bicep, “she’s one lucky girl.”

“I think I’m the lucky one,” he grinned. He leaned down to meet your lips in a kiss. You sighed into it, allowing your body to mold itself so perfectly into his. The taste of beer on his lips and the smell of his cologne was intoxicating - it was home. You immediately allowed him entrance as you felt his tongue glide along your bottom lip. Your body felt small in his strong grip and you couldn’t help but laugh a bit as he gave your ass a firm squeeze. Normally, this type of bold, public display of affection would make you cringe away but at this point you were lost in Chris that you had absolutely no shame. Each time the two of you embraced had always felt like the first. Your heart still fluttered and your knees still got weak, like you were a 16 year old being kissed for the first time.

In the middle of your reunion moment, however, something happened in the game that made the entire bar erupt in boo’s and curses. Chris lifted his lips from yours to look over his shoulder and inspect what he had missed. You laughed and shook your head as you pushed him back towards his friends and took a seat in the bar stool he had been standing behind initially. His large hands found a natural place on your shoulders. While his eyes remained glued on the TV he began applying a moderate amount of pressure to your neck and shoulders. You didn’t realize how much your body craved that touch, his touch, until you immediately melted back into him.

The bartender slid a beer in front of you with a wink and you mouthed your thanks. You felt a twinge in your heart as you looked around, taking in the atmosphere of the bar. This was a typical weekend night for the two of you whenever you were living together. Football, drinks, pub food, and friends. If it wasn’t this pub it was your living room, just a couple blocks away. You didn’t even mind that it was your first night back and you weren’t alone, spending it immediately wrapped up in your satin sheets. The atmosphere, the people - it was so warm and familiar that you really wouldn’t rather be doing anything else. Plus, being wrapped up together in the sheets was sure to follow.

“I missed you,” hummed a pair of lips as they placed a kiss on the shell of your ear. A shiver shot down your spine at the sensation of his warm breath fanning over your neck. You reached up a hand and connected it to the nape of his neck.

“I missed you too,” you replied, turning your head to plant a kiss on his stubbled cheek.

His arms changed position as he wrapped them in front of your shoulders and crossed them, resting his chin on the top of your head. Your hand absentmindedly rubbed his forearms as you nursed your beer and placed your focus onto the game for the first time tonight.

The laughter seemed to escape from your chest naturally and effortlessly the entire night, as it always had a habit of doing when Chris was around. The camaraderie between him and his buddies during a game was something you’d grown to enjoy over the years. Chris’ competitive nature and the way his jaw clenched when something wasn’t going the way he wanted was always kinda...hot. All of his friends were huge assholes, but in the best way. It was always entertaining to hear them jab at each other and do what they could to rile someone up. They were the life of every party you had ever attended and they had a way of making a boring night a lot more interesting.

Thankfully (for the integrity of the bar) the Pats won the game with a surprise touchdown in the last 30 seconds of the game. Chris, being the guy he is, bought a final round for his friends and a nearby group they had been going back and forth with all night. You couldn’t help but laugh as he drunkenly leaned across the counter and slurred his order to the bartender.

“I need a round for m’friends and for these assholes over here who thought Tom Brady was anything but a winner!” the group started yelling in protest and he simply waved them off and started sliding beers down the bar.

The group eventually moved to a bigger round top so everyone could shoot the shit and banter about the outcome of the game. You were tucked into Chris’ side, hands intertwined as he was passionately discussing the importance of Brady’s legacy with a stranger who made the mistake of stopping to talk to him. Your eyes followed the motion of your thumb as it traced small circles onto the back of his. Your other hand under your chin, holding up the weight of your head as your exhaustion started to catch up with you. Chris, although slightly drunk, picked up on your body language and raised your hand to his lips for a kiss.

“Alright, fellas,” he said as he stood up from his seat, pulling you up with him, “the lady and I are gonna call it a night. See you boys next weekend”.

“Chris, we don’t have to go,” you began to protest as he tucked his jacket around your shoulders.

“Mm, ‘course we do,” he replied with a soft smile, “you’re so tired, baby. I can see it in those beautiful eyes”.

You could feel your cheeks turn a light shade of pink as you rolled your eyes at his attempt at laying it on thick. After what felt like a proper 10 minute goodbye session, the group said their final goodbyes, hugs included, and you walked out of the pub hand in hand.

The walk home was filled with the sounds of cars passing by and conversation of what each other had missed in the week prior. Small talk typically felt like such a chore, but with Chris every conversation came naturally. Even when he had absolutely no idea what you were talking about, he would listen intently and ask all the questions as if it was the most interesting conversation in the world.

The lock on the apartment door clicked as you pushed it open and entered. You smiled as you stopped into the middle of the living room, taking in the home you missed so dearly. A soft tapping of toenails against the hardwood made your heart soar as you met the eyes of your sweet pup, Dodger. A squeal left your lips as you squatted down to give love to the sweet boy. Chris always made fun of you when you came home, saying that you always seemed to miss Dodger more than you did him and I mean, he wasn’t entirely wrong about that statement.

Once again lost in your own world, you didn’t even notice Chris leaned up against the wall watching you with a smile.

“Oh my god,” you gushed, standing up, “do you like...like me or something?”

Chris grinned as he crossed the room and caught your belt loop with his finger, pulling you into him slowly.

“Yeah,” his voice had dropped down an octave, “you could say that”.

“Mm,” your tongue swiped across your lower lip and you wrapped your arms around his neck, “care to show me how much?”

The look in his eyes made your core burn. The tension building between you two became too much to handle as you crashed your lips into his. The kisses were messy and you could feel the sense of urgency between you two. His beard scratched against the column of your throat with a delicious burn as he left wet kisses across your jaw and down the side of your neck. Chris’ hands found their way back into the ass pockets of your jeans as he started walking you back towards the direction of the bedroom.

Soon, there was a trail of clothes leading to your bedroom and you felt very sorry for your neighbors. It had been a long time, but Chris always had a way of welcoming you home.

[redpandaramblings]

Like Caramel For Chocolate- An Omega Bakugou x Alpha f!Reader fic. Part 2.

Part 1- Here

Next- Here

Content Warning: Negative headspace, omegaverse, self deprecation, depressive thoughts, pushy parental figures, ambiguous omegaverse reproduction, unhealthy relationships, relationship that could be easily fixed if idiots would use their words and communicate

Where we left off-

You twisted the hem of your shirt, silence growing as you thought. Your mother wasn’t saying anything new. On your lonelier days, like today, the words sounded eerily similar to your own thoughts. If this conversation had happened on any other day, you knew how forceful your ‘No!’ would be. But today was today.

“Okay.” Your whisper seemed more like a shout into the quiet. “I’ll do it. I’ll go.”

“You will? Oh Y/N! How wonderful! Since I already said yes, of course. You’ll need to come home right away, the omiai is the day after tomorrow, and we need to get you a proper outfit!”

“So soon?” Your mind raced. Bakugou was still in heat. What would you do? There was no way… Your thoughts slowed. But there was a way. Plenty of ways. Katsuki had many friends that could look after him. Friends he was actually comfortable letting into his apartment. You knew he’d let Kirishima take care of him. Mina absolutely could convince him to eat and drink, no matter how grumpy he was. There was a pain in your chest as a familiar thought wound through your brain. Katsuki didn’t need you. He never had. As if in a fog, you heard yourself saying, “I’ll need a little bit to take care of some things here; but I can be home tonight. See you soon.” You heard your mother happily continue rambling even as you hung up. You stared at the wall for a few minutes, unseeing. You were really doing this, huh? Pushing yourself up, you rummaged around your kitchen; finding bags and filling them with snacks and drinks. Before you could think better of it, you dialed Kirishima. He answered on the fourth ring. “Hey dude! What’s up?” “Kiri, I need your help. Can you come over now? I’ll explain when you get here.” “Yeah man, I’ll be right over. Hang tight.” A few short minutes later, there was a knock on your door. You opened it to see a tall, concerned looking redhead. You ushered him inside as you went back to the kitchen, continuing to make up care packs. “Hey, now what is it, Y/n? It sounded serious.” “It is and it isn’t,” you say; looking over at him as you shove gatorade into bags. “There’s a… family emergency. I need to go home right away for a few days.” “Ouch, that’s rough man! It’s Bakubro having his heat right now?” “Exactly. That’s why I need your help. Can you bring one of these bags to him each day? Make sure he eats and drinks at least? I know he trusts you.”

Kirishima nodded enthusiastically. “Of course man! Anything to help!” He looked over the supplies, inconspicuously checking what you’d already packed. “You want to scent some stuff for him before you go too?” You shook your head, forcing yourself not to wince as you lied to your friend yet again. “I’d better not. I don’t want to give him a bag of stuff soaked in distressed alpha scent. Besides, I scented some stuff for him this morning; that should be enough.”

Kirishima frowned but nodded. “I guess that makes sense. Have you told him yet?”

You shake your head. “No. No reason to stress him out until I know for sure what I’m dealing with, and call when I have a better idea. Might not even take a full day if I’m lucky.” “Yeah, hopefully. It’s really shit timing, isn’t it.” You nod as you place the last of the bags on the counter, satisfied with your work. “It is. But I trust you to take care of him. You’re a great alpha like that.” Kirishima chuckled and preened at the praise. “I am great, aren’t I? I’ll do my best, but I’m no match for you.” You give a small, tight smile as you walk to your junk drawer, rummaging until you find one of your spare keys. You chuck it at your friend, who catches it easily. “Here. This way you can let yourself in and just grab a bag each day.”

“Can do, Dudette! Anything else?”

You considered as you retrieved a duffle bag, making a mental list of what you’d need to pack. “Not really? I haven’t told anybody else that I’m going yet. Wasn’t sure if I should ask Mina or some of the others to check in too. You know how Bakugou can be with his heats, and I want to make sure he’s comfortable.”

“Oh yeah, that makes sense. I’ll probably wait til tomorrow and see what he wants to do.” Kiri watched you as you paced around. “Need any help packing?”

You nodded with half a smile. “Yeah. Thanks, Kiri.”

In a few short hours you were packed with enough supplies for a few days, and on a train headed home. Your mother had agreed to meet you at the station. The scenery rushed by a window in a blur. Your eyes were unfocused as you watched the view whip by. You were really doing this. For the first time in years, you were leaving your omega… No. You were leaving Katsuki alone for his heat. You were leaving him alone so you could go to a marriage date. To meet an omega theoretically with the intention of bonding. Guilt weighed heavily on you as you exited the train hours later. You saw your mother waving to you from across the station. This was it. No turning back now.

~~~

Bakugou growled as the morning light streamed in his window, smacking him across the eyes. He wished he could just sleep until the whole fucking heat was over. He hated everything about it. He hated the itching of his skin, the hazy fog affecting his brain, the slimy slick that oozed out of him steadily. He hated the burning need to fuck and breed and to have his alpha close. Bakugou snarled to himself. He refused to be a slave to his weak ass biology. He wasn’t some weak, pitiful, flower. He was a top ten hero! He was going to be number one! And the next bastard who told him he should be home tending to his pups and letting an alpha take care of him was going to get an explosion up the ass. As if he needed some knotted headed alpha. Bakugou glanced at his clock, frowning when he saw the time. Usually his alpha would be here by now to drop off his care bag. He scratched at the swollen, irritated scent glands on his neck. It’s not like he fucking cared if Y/N was late. Just, he couldn’t remember the last time she had been. And maybe he was getting antsy because the strength of his heat scent was already starting to overpower the scented blanket he had woven into his nest, close to his pillows.

A knock sounded from the door, and with a relieved huff Bakugou rushed to answer it. He took a deep breath in to calm himself, before flinging the door open.

“About fucking time you showed up, shitty…” He trailed off as his brain registered the tall, red-headed man standing in front of him was very much not his alpha. “What the fuck are you doing here, shitty hair?”

Kirishima rubbed the back of his head, looking sheepish. “Hey man, sorry not to call beforehand, but I told Y/N I wouldn’t.” Confused, Bakugou looks Kirishima up and down again, this time spotting the familiar bag the redhead was holding. “What the fuck are you doing with my stuff? Where’s my shitty alpha?” Kiri frowned and held up the bag. “Don’t call Y/N shitty. She asked me to bring this over. Look, man, can I just come in and explain what’s going on?”

Reluctantly, Bakugou stood aside holding the door open as his friend came in. The blond stuck his head into the hallway, half looking for his alpha. His inner omega growing restless when there was no sign of you. With a grumble, he slammed the door, turning to where his friend had thrown himself onto the sofa. “So what the fuck, Kirishima? Where’s Y/N? Why didn’t she come here herself?”

Kiri tilted his head back, looking at the ceiling. “She had some sort of family emergency and had to go home for a bit. She didn’t want to worry you because she didn’t know how serious it was or how long it would take. She said she’d call and update us when she’s able to.”

Bakugou’s omega whimpered in his chest. His alpha was gone? His alpha had left him alone when he couldn’t follow to make sure they were alright? He knew how much your family stressed you out normally, let alone in an emergency. A traitorous part of his brain whispered to him, asking if this wasn’t exactly what he had wanted? Hadn’t he growled at his mate, wanting to be left alone? Bakugou hadn’t realized there was a plaintive whine escaping his throat until Kirishima wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

“Hey, bro, it’s okay. I know it’s rough, but I’m here. And I can call Mina and Sero if you want company. Been a while since we’ve had a pack get together. Y/N might not be here right now, but she wanted to make sure you’re as comfortable as possible.”

Bakugou nodded stiffly as he went to go paw through the bag Kirishima had brought.

Jerky, drinks, chocolate- Bakugou frowned. “Was this the only bag?”

“I mean, there’s a bag for each day for about a week’s worth; so I just grabbed one. Why man, something missing? Need me to go get you something?”

Katsuki shook his head. He wasn’t going to ask Kirishima of all people where his usual bag of scented items was. If Y/N was in a rush, that would explain it. Bakugou hoped that was the case, and he wouldn’t have to actually ask you to scent things for him again. He’d rather be kidnapped by villains again than admit to how much your rich chocolate scent soothed him and helped him sleep peacefully. There was no way the items you had left yesterday would last him through the rest of his heat.

“Actually, shitty hair, could you go get me some Yakult? Been craving it this heat.” Kiri jumped up with a grin. “Sure, bro! No problem! Be right back!” The omega gave a lazy wave as Kiri jogged out the door. As soon as the door shut, he bolted to the bathroom and applied as much scent blocker as he could stand. It wouldn’t hold up long against his heat pheromones, but should work for what he intended to do. Bakugou grabbed his keyring from the hook by the door, rushed down the hallway to the stairway, and started climbing upward; taking the stairs three at a time. In less than a minute, he was standing outside the door to your apartment.

It felt strange, Katsuki thought as he flipped through his keys until he found yours. It was strange that in all your years of dating he had only been inside your apartment a handful of times. He unlocked the door, pushing it open and stepping inside. As the wall of scent that was uniquely you smacked him in the face, he felt the tension in his shoulders ease. Maybe the strangest thing was that you lived three floors apart instead of sharing a space together. Because then he wouldn’t be here, doing this; he thought as he made a beeline to your bedroom. He knew exactly what he was after. Recently scented items lost their smell fairly quickly. But something you used daily, with your scent glands brushing against it every time? That would last him a month, if not longer. Besides. You were his alpha. He wouldn’t have to come in and steal your pillow if you had just scented more stuff for him in the first place. He buried his face in your pillow and inhaled deeply. He whimpered as your rich scent filled his nose, causing his slick to increase. Reluctantly he made his way to the door with his prize, even as every instinct told him to build a nest on the soft bed and wait for his mate to come home to him.

~~~~~

You sighed, adjusting the cuffs of the outfit your mother had picked and shoved you into. Today was the day. The day you met your perspective “bride.” You snorted at the old fashioned ideology. At times like these you felt like you understood Bakugou better. Omegas deserved to be treated as more than just their dynamic. Luckily, most of society agreed nowadays; with omegas able to hold any job and no one being forced to marry. Unluckily, the omiai remained one of the last extremely traditional accepted ceremonies. Your parents were in another room, exchanging your scented handkerchief with one from whoever the poor omega was. According to tradition, if you both went into heat and rut upon scenting each other; you would both be married and mated that same day. What happened more often, you thought cynically, is as long as you didn’t gag at each other’s scent, you’d meet in person to see if you found each other compatible.

You were broken out of your ruminations by the sound of a door opening. Your mother practically skipped toward you, holding out the paper wrapped package with the hanky inside. You tuned out her nattering about how good this match could be as you unwrapped the paper and brought the cloth to your nose. Your brow furrowed. You inhaled deeply, just to make sure. The sharp tang of citrus hit your nose. You knew this scent from somewhere. “Hey mom,” you spoke softly. “I think I’d like to see them now.”

“Oh!” Your mother blinked in surprise. “Of course, of course! This way!”

Your mother led you into an elegant private room. You settled onto a cushion as your parents went to see if the omega had agreed to meet. Glancing about the room, you wondered exactly how many times you’d see the inside of this teahouse if you kept agreeing to these meetings. It didn’t feel right, you thought with a frown. But if you gave up on Bakugou, this was your destiny. Awkward meeting after awkward meeting until you clicked enough with someone to risk settling down.

You glanced up at the sound of the door. In came your parents, then the Yokomadas. You did a double take as the final person, the omega you were here to meet, entered the room. They looked equally as startled as your eyes locked.

“Y/N?”

“Denki?!”

That's it for part 2! Thank you for reading, and stay tuned for part 3! If anyone has any questions regarding the fic or how this particular omegaverse operates, please feel free to shoot me an ask.

Taglist- @yzviea, @not-a-pushover, @thelilypieforever, @kumihayu, @aomi04 Also, please note that @snuggleyourredpandas is my main account, so it you see a message reply from them, that's me!

[quirklessidiot]

title : cigarettes and parfaits [3] pairing : older!nanami kento x younger!reader [13 year age gap, ft toji fushiguro] Genre: romance, fluff, slice of life, josei, angst, comedy, strangers to lovers au

Summary: you’re pretty sure you’d remember marrying a man 13 years older than you, right?

Warnings: alcohol, smoking, mild smut, y/n making stupid decisions, everyones a human-au so yeh non-canon stuff and everyone’s happy (periODT) i keep forgeting to add that this isnt beta-rread..all of my stories arent so yeah shshs Notes: ah, i feel like this story will be lengthen more than 8-10 chapters shshshs i wanted to add a little spice anyways thanks for all the comments uwu ily all!

Masterlist || taglist || [prev ; next] [updates; every saturday!]

“Y/N-chan!!!”

You cringe in embarrassment as soon as you hear that awfully familiar and cheerful voice, you could barely remember this man and the events that transpired the night before but here he was, acting like your new best friend. You weren’t even sure if you wanted to go here but you needed clarity. Surely you didn’t just legally marry a man at an Izakaya out of all places last night?

“Oh, you actually did marry him.” Gojo Satoru proclaims as soon as you take a seat across him, he gestures around his face, “I could tell by your whole, ‘I hope this guy is messing with me’ face. You have it, signed and sealed. Even got the cute matchy rings that I had one of my assistants delivered.”

You pale at the thought of his assistant coming in with a silver ring. Wasn’t he sober? How could he not have stopped you two from doing something as reckless and stupid as this? Weren’t older men supposed to be more responsible than this?

“Why the hell didn’t you stop us?” You groaned, burying your face in your hands, embarrassment painted all over your features.

“I was just as drunk as you two.” He confessed, scratching his head, “probably even more drunk but anyways back to the topic in hand, I only remembered it when the same assistant came in and congratulated me about it. It’s good I had your number on my phone before you two bailed.”

“So you don’t really remember?”

“Bits and pieces.” Gojo grinned, this guy was a maniac, how did the serious man you met just this morning have friends like this? You probably wouldn’t even last long, “I did call Nanami-”

He’s cut off by the rough sound of someone pulling a chair out, you immediately jump on your seat when you realize it’s Nanami Kento, the guy from this morning. The man you had recklessly married!

“This better be some prank you’re pulling, Satoru.” His voice was anything but kind that you almost wanted to hide behind Gojo’s back.

“Hey, hey.” Gojo raises his hands, “Don’t look at me. I didn’t force you into anything and stop scaring your poor little partner.”

Nanami snaps his gaze towards you and you notice how his eyes soften just a bit when he sees your red ears and your eyes looking away from him, “You better call Geto and fucking fix this, I refuse to bother this young-”

“It’s fine.” You cut him off, still shy and red, “It’s...fine...I just…Please don’t think I’m burdened by it. It was technically my fault for even agreeing immediately.”

Nanami clenches his jaw and turns away, “Nevertheless. L/N-san’s young. I hope to not be such an uncouth man like you.” he retorts, voice sharp as he eyes the white-haired businessman up and down. Gojo, seemingly used to it, rolls his eyes behind his dark shades.

“Maybe you guys should try it out.”

The blonde man looks like he’s about to smite the white-haired man out of existence yet Satoru remains oblivious to his friend’s gaze, “Don’t ya think so? It will take a while for those divorce papers to settle in so why don’t you two go out and get to know each other? Who knows…” he sing-songs the last part and Nanami is so close to chunking his briefcase towards the tall businessman, not even caring 

“Ah, he’s not exactly wrong, Nanami-san.” you try to calm him down, placing a small hand on his broad shoulder.

“Don’t tell me you’re actually listening to this idiot’s idea.” Nanami replied, gaze narrowing.

“Not really but you have some problems I can help you out on and I have problems that you can help me out on...Of course, the last say is on you...”

“Told you I actually had a brain.” Satoru piped in.

“Shut up, Satoru.” he quips, then turns to you, “I’m thirteen years older than you, L/N-san. I have two high school kids that could pass off as your siblings, and-”

“Well, I technically did marry you.”

“You were drunk.”

“Doesn’t exactly really excuse it.” You laugh nervously, “The whole divorce process usually lasts up to a few months, some even takes a whole year. I could help you out with the boys and I can use you to ward my family off from moving back home.”

Nanami is quiet for a moment, actually thinking about it. Weighing the pros and the cons, not only would you be able to help him out but you’d also be able to get Gojo and blind-dating out of his back.

There really wasn’t anything he could loose, really.

“Or you two might fall in love.” Satoru teases, making Nanami throw him another side-eye, as if saying ‘I dare you to say another word.’

It’s a Thursday today and Sukuna absolutely loathed Thursdays     apparently because it reminded him of Mondays, Tuesdays, and Wednesdays. They all were far from the weekend     Everyone seems to be happier than usual though. Maybe it was because you were there teaching some basic shit at the board or something.

“...and if we transfer this here and change the positive to a negative, you’ll end up having five as your answer.” You smile, placing your chalk down, “Does anyone have any questions?”

Echoes of no’s resonated throughout the room.

“Alright then, let’s end the lesson here so you guys can have an early lunch. I don’t think an assignment is in order since many of you were able to get a perfect score in the activity awhile ago.” You winked. A couple of whoops resonated throughout the whole class right after. 

As the kids shuffle out of the room of the class, Sukuna remains behind. The ojisan had cooked them something delicious this morning and he wanted to eat it in peace without that pesky Nobara grabbing a share from his bento and Yuuji’s annoying babbles about horror movies with his best friend Junpei (the only one who was really bearable was Megumi, really)

“Sukuna-kun?” you called out, snapping him out of his small trance,  “Are you alright?”

He notices a glint of worry in your eyes, he had to admit since his transfer here last Monday, you were the least annoying teacher in the academy     the blue-haired professor in Japanese literature was absolute shit since he loved to tease him a lot and that bald-headed teacher in science who looked a lot like Mike Wazowski was an annoying twerp who loved dawdling in him and Yuuji’s business     and you were kind of good at your job. Not only did his idiot of a brother stop coming to him and their ojisan for help in math but he could actually do the worksheets right and get an actual decent grade at it.

“Yeah.” he roughly replies.

“That’s good.” You smiled, he watched as you bind their worksheets together and clip them in utmost delicacy, “You should head to the cafeteria now, I heard they’re serving milk bread today.”

Without saying anything more, you left the room, leaving him there in the silence.

Well, the Christmas tree idiot was right.

You kind of had a motherly aura on you and it didn’t even look forced.

No wonder, everyone in this room was whipped for you despite your subject being a pain in the ass.

“You look like an idiot.” You mumbled as you slapped Mahito’s hand away in annoyance, your workmate wiggling his eyebrows like the little shit he is.

You completely forgot you did have someone like Gojo Satoru in your life and it was one of your co-workers, Mahito, a Japanese literature teacher who was too nosy for his own good.

“You’ve got a ring on your ring finger and a mailman comes in and gives you an invite for Zen’in Toji’s fortieth birthday.” he whistles, “Even Jogo-sensei gossiped by the water cooler awhile ago, saying that you had eloped with the man. Not that I’m judging you or anything...”

You choke on your saliva, clearly thrown off by the backhanded comment. That darn bald-headed fool that looked like the green eyed monster from the DreamWorks cartoon, he sure needed to lay off the gossip and actually focus on his job as the head of the science department, “You’re not denying it.” Mahito stated, narrowing his eyes in suspicion, “Why aren’t you denying it?”

“I’m not dating Megumi-kun’s father.” You grumbled, finishing up your paperwork, “That man is off limits.”

“Right,” he drawls on sarcastically, “...because you have a strict rule against dating hot older men with money.”

“I also teach his kids and his cousin…” You deadpan.

“We don’t even have a rule against that.” He retorts, rolling his eyes, “If we did, Hanami-sensei would’ve been fired a long time ago.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“And you’re so secretive. If it isn’t Toji Zen’in, who’d ask you out?”

“Hey, I do have a man.” You huffed, “and he’s very kind and considerate...”

The image of the tall and lean man sleeping next to you slowly wormed its way back from your memory and you feel your cheeks start to flush. Good god, what were you? twelve? How embarrassing.

You needed to get that image off of your head, it wasn’t right.

It was all temporary, anyways and he doesn’t even see you in that sort of way-

“Yes, I’m Sukuna and Yuuji Itadori’s guardian…” a very familiar stoic voice could be heard from the nearby table, cutting your thoughts short. Wait, were you so head over heels for the man that you started imagining him here? Yuuji and Sukuna’s guardian? Wait a minute.

All color drained from your face as you snap your head behind you to find the same man you were imagining.

Oh no.

Oh no, indeed.

There stood Nanami Kento in all his glory;  crisp suit, stoic face, and eyes laced with mild worry.

“...L/N-sensei is Sukuna-kun’s adviser, by the way. It would be best to discuss this with them.” Akari somberly informed the man, turning to your direction. You don’t miss the shift of expressions when he sees you standing there.

Your mouth parts and you know you look like gawking fish trapped in a small aquarium.

“Akari-sensei’s looking at you with the new hot daddy.” Mahito mumbles next to you, eyeing him up and down, “Definitely wonder where all these old men come from these days.”

You were only half-listening to your co-worker because your head was all over the place, just what were the odds that he was the guardian of the new transferee’s? Just how awkward would everything be? Why did it even have to be at this school out of all places?

Never ending questions pop out of your head as you approached them, “Good afternoon, Nanami-san.” Your smile comes out very stiff and awkward while you hold your hand out for him to shake, clearly there was no memo on how you were suppose to act around your sort-of-fake-husband-whos-kids-you-actually-taught.

Nanami reverts back to his stoic expression as he clears his throat, “Yes, good afternoon to you too, L/N-sensei.” he greets, maintaining a straight-laced tone.

“Akari-sensei says that Sukuna has been quite...rude...in class…” you try to rack your brains up to describe his kid.

“Your son literally pointed out that the history lesson I was teaching was fake and that I should study again so he could get his tuition’s worth.” Akari looks clearly perplexed and ready to throttle the boy if it was legal. You had to admit, Sukuna went overboard with that insult.

You knew how passionate Nitta was about her job and what Sukuna just said to her was like a big ‘fuck you, you suck.’ to her.

“I’ll be sure to talk to him about this,” he sighs, bowing down, “I’d like to ask for forgiveness for that, the boy is a good and smart student-”

“Nanami-san, the school not only cares about grades but character as well.” Akari Nitta sighed, cutting him off, “I’ll let this slide once, if he does that again, it goes on the record.”

You internally bit your cheek, still trying to process everything that was going on.

“I understand. Thank you for that.”

“I’ll walk him out, sensei.” You immediately say soon after, wanting to have some alone time with him, “Let’s go, Nanami-san.”

You walk right next to him silently, some students peerlessly glancing at the tall blonde next to you but you were too immersed in thought to notice the stares, “Nanami-san?” you ask softly as soon as you reach the exit.

Nanami Kento looks at you, his eyes still laced with a bit of worry, “It’s okay.” you silently comforted him, “Just talk to him calmly.”

“That’s not the problem.” he sighed, “I just didn’t expect that the person I married would be the boy’s teacher.”

You sweat drop, “Aren’t you worried about talking to Sukuna? I mean, he literally just disrespected a teacher and you said that he and you weren’t in good-”

“It’s easier to talk to him about that rather than…” he paused, showing his ring, “this.”

You blinked.

Seemed like Nanami knew what to say about the little attitude problem his son had, “So you must be used to this?” you asked, “Him disrespecting the teacher?”

You notice the shift of expressions on his face, you had only known this man for a few days so far but he was starting to get easier to read. His eyes shed more emotion than his face, no wonder he likes wearing those funny sunglasses a lot.

“It’s something I’ve scolded him over a couple of times,” he gruffed, trying to dance around the subject, it seemed like he had such a soft spot to the point where he had a problem with disciplining them, “At times I believe it’s just because he’s way too smart for his age. The boy has read history books for fun when he was a kid and solved quadratic equations to prove that he’s better than me when he was ten.”

“It still doesn’t give him the free pass to say things like that to a teacher”

“I know,” he acknowledged, “I’ll be sure to give him a better scolding-”

“No, you see. This is why he thinks he can get away with it. He isn’t afraid of you. You’ll only probably tell him that you can’t do that.” you frown, crossing your arms, “You do know that not all sensei’s are as nice as Akari-sensei and he could get in trouble for that even more in the future, right?”

Silence lingered between you two for a moment and suddenly you realize that you must’ve said something way off the rails.

“I..” you turn red, embarrassed by the sudden outburst, “That was too much, wasn’t it?”

You look at him directly in the eye, the worry-filled ones are now replaced with a softer gaze. God, he really needed to stop looking at you like a kid. It would only make this set-up more awkward!

“No,” he mumbles, “It...It wasn't too much…”

“Oh.” you cleared your throat, flustered and looking away from his face, “Well, okay then goodbye then Nanami-sa-”

You needed to get out of this conversation quick.

“Kento.”

Your gaze snaps directly towards him, clearly taken aback by the correction.

“What?”

“We’re technically married now, right?” he softly corrected, “Call me Kento.”

“Oh,” You uttered again, this time softly. You looked down on your shoes, it seemed like the floor looked really interesting now, “Then bye-bye, Kento.”

“Bye Y/N.”

He leaves you standing there, cursing yourself because of your erratic heartbeat at the way he says your name in that voice. First name basis? okay, totally normal for sort-of lovers, right?

taglist [if crossed out, i can’t tag u ; - ;]

; @coldbookworm  ; @frankenstein852  ;  @neavil  ; @shephard17895  @kristineyoshaii ; @airybnb ; @okachansenpai ; @amortentiaxo ; @rinvtaro ; @franko-pop ; @kozutenshi ; @kaldoesthings ; @moonlitdabi ; @chococroissant ; @bleepop ; @kaldoesthings ; @moonlitdabi ; @chococroissant ; @pettybroccoli ; @nixxona ; @kiyoo-omi ; @omibaby ; @bokkunto ; @peccobagnaia​ ; @sangwoahbigbussy​ ; 

@Kurok1717 ;  @hcn421 ;  @shinhiromi ;  @airybnb ; @katshuya ; ​@atsuhaya

[darling-i-read-it]

Leaving the Baker's

Part 5 (Final Part)

RE7 Rewrite Masterlist

Ethan Winters x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: spoilers for re7, violence, guns, mold, death

Author’s Note: It’s over! I like how this ended up going. I know not a lot of people read it but I hope those who did likes it! Ethan supremacy besties

Summary: The end of the game.

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator. Some of these lines are directly from the game so they may sound familiar.

(not my gif)

You carefully floated down through the water, Ethan driving the boat through the obstacles. You sat beside each other sheepishly, Zoe across from you. She looked uncomfortable. She rubbed her arms, nervously looking around.

“You chose me over your wife,” she said to Ethan.

“You knew the way out,” Ethan said slowly. You nodded. That was what you had agreed on. Well you were pretty sure that was what you agreed on. There was no actual chat. You looked over at Ethan who had a fairly neutral look on his face.

“Yeah,” Zoe muttered.

You soon came up on a large ship. Your eyes went wide and you almost stood up to get a better look but you thought better of it. Ethan and Zoe’s gaze followed yours. They looked at the looming ship, wondering how it had gotten all the way out here onto the bayou.

“What is-” Zoe started and then something came out of the water, cutting her head off. You screeched, grabbing Ethan who was already in the process of grabbing you. You shook a bit as her body went limp in front of you.

“What was that?” you whispered but Ethan didn’t even get the chance to register the question because something came up from under the boat, grabbing you both before you could even properly scream.

====

You woke up slowly. You looked up at the boat above you, looming in the dark weather. It had to have been the boat that Mia came on. She had told you about how she was watching a girl named Eveline. That the girl had special properties. You wondered what that was.

You rubbed your head and started to sit up when you saw Mia walking by. How did she get here? You knelt behind some of the wreckage, watching as she passed you. She stopped a few feet away and knelt down.

“Ethan?” she said. You peeked over the edge and saw him on the ground. You wanted to go to him but you wouldn’t risk a fight with her mad. You gasped as the dark mold came out and grabbed onto him, engulfing him whole and dragged him away. You reached out, wishing you had done something to stop it. Mia did the same thing, reaching for him but he was gone. You leaned back a bit and took a deep breath.

You had to get him before she did. You weren’t sure how that was going to happen but it was going to happen.

====

You entered the boat a couple of minutes after her. You still had your guns and weapons on you so you held them close as you made your way through the boat. Now that you were alone it was a little more daunting. You had been able to crack jokes with Ethan this whole time, have someone to back you up but now you were completely on your own.

The ship was dark. You kept checking the corner for more of the mold monsters and Mia. Every once in a while you could hear her walking around, her voice in the distance. You were right on her tail when she got to Ethan.

You raised your gun to her as she approached Ethan.

“Don’t fucking touch him,” you muttered. She whipped around, face sunken.

“You don’t understand,” she said.

“No you don’t understand. We came here to save your ass Mia and now you’ve gone and gotten us both in trouble. Step aside. Ethan and I are leaving.”

“He won’t leave without me.”

“Oh?” You jabbed your gun at her. “Let’s find out.”

Suddenly a little girl materialized beside her. Your eyes went wide and your aim went to the child. Eveline.

“Don’t hurt him,” Mia pleaded.

“I already told you I wouldn’t mommy.”

“I’m not your mother!” she protested. Eveline went to grab her and while she did so you passed behind Mia, digging through the mold on the wall for Ethan. You moved it aside so you could see his face. You brushed the goop off his cheek and his eyes opened, looking at you confusingly.

“What..wh-”

“You need to leave!” Mia said. “I can’t...I can’t…” When you looked around the little girl was gone. You furrowed your brows, putting yourself between her and Ethan who was still gaining consciousness. You held up your gun and Mia shoved you over, grabbing Ethan’s arm. “You shouldn’t have chosen her!” she yelled. “Either of them!”

You shot her before she could claw at him. Here was another fight. They seemed to be never ending.

You shot at her and Ethan did as well after a moment. It took a couple of minutes but you saw her wearing down. She grabbed Ethan’s arm, stopping. You reloaded your gun and held it up to her but you didn’t need it anymore.

She stared into Ethan’s eyes and then fell over, turning to dust. He held his hands out as though to grab her but she was gone. You slowly put your gun down.

“Mia,” he whispered. You closed your eyes. You didn’t want her dead. You were hoping to come back for her. You were hoping you would all be alright. Ethan turned to you, his face cracked a bit. He was bleeding. “Eveline is turning them that way,” he explained. “All of them. They didn’t have a choice,” he whispered. “Mia didn’t have a choice.” You felt a sting in your heart. You hoped that was true. You didn’t like to believe she would have hurt either of you willingly. Now she was dead.

Ethan took a deep breath, shaking his head as he processed the death of his wife. He turned to you and before you knew what was happening, he hugged you tightly. You buried your head in his shirt, not caring how dirty it was. You breathed him in and then pulled away.

“We have to get out of here,” you whispered. He nodded curtly.

“Let’s go.”

=====

The two of you dug through grime and dirty water before coming to a small house. There were some things in it that looked like they had been used recently. Ethan picked up a pack of bullets. You messed with the radio. It came to life.

“Alpha 1 this is Bravo 1 do you read?” it said. Ethans head cocked over. He walked to you.

“This is Alpha 1. Report. Did you find anything?”

“A thorough search of the Bakers found no survivors. Repeat, no survivors. We did find evidence of a skirmich.”

“Eveline?” “Negative. However we did find several encrypted messages from the Baker’s son, Lucas, to an unknown third party. You can probably guess who that was.” “That’s just great.”

“We’ve had reports he’s in the abandoned mines south of the property.”

“I’m gonna go have a look.”

“Roger that. We’ll meet you at those coordinates.”

“If you encounter Eveline your orders are to shoot to kill. Repeat - shoot to kill.” The transmission went out. You looked over at Ethan, shaking a bit from the cold and from the situation.

“What the fuck did we step into?” he asked.

“Damn if I know.”

=====

You continued to trek through waters and some cave systems. You arrived back in the guest house, where all of the terrors had started. At least you knew you were somewhat close to your car. You kept close to each other, watching the corners, guns up.

Eveline appeared, a wicked smile on her face.

She used her powers to make you see what had happened in that house. Mia attacking you. Ethan’s hand being cut off.

“If you don’t wanna be my family, you die,” she whispered. Then she was gone again.

“Screw her,” you muttered.

You followed along the house. It shook underneath you, making you both jump. Evnline was screaming before you even gotta see her. The room erupted in light blue lights. She stood at the end of the room and as you approached even more lights came out from her, making you and Ethan fall over.

You had to hide behind the wall though no doubt she would break through that as well. You and Ethan shared a look.

“You shoot her, I'll grab her,” he yelled over the wind. You nodded stiffly and came out from behind the wall, shooting her with your handgun as many times as you could manage. While she was startled Ethan ran up against the wind.

Ethan grabbed her and it all stopped.

You looked up and saw that little girl Eveline had turned into the grandmother from dinner. You had seen her countless times around the house. You should have known. She was bleeding black mold from her eyes.

Ethan ran into you as he backed up. You grabbed his arm and watched as Eveline turned the whole room into a large black moldy mess. She was breaking apart, screaming.

“It hurts, it hurts!” she said in a distorted voice. She turned into the mold.

One more fight. One more.

Ethan and you used the last of what you had on her. You shot and threw everything that you had ever been able to carry. You grunted, dodged and got hit more times than you could count.

By the time you were tossed out of the house, you had lost almost all feeling in your body. Everything ached.

It was amazing to feel something other than numbing pain. The ground underneath you was cold. You felt the grass underneath you. It was cold. The sun was on your face. It felt like it had been years since you felt the sun. You took a deep breath but it ended up being a wheeze.

“Y/N?” You sat up. There was a man in your face you didn’t know. “I’m Chris Redfield. I’m here to get you out of here.” You sat up and nodded, taking his hand to help you up. You looked around.

“Where...where’s Ethan?” you asked urgently once you came too. Then you saw him. About as banged up as you felt, he was standing with some other people in the same outfit as Chris. He was arguing with someone and then he walked forward. You reached forward desperately and grabbed his arm, holding him tightly to you. You stayed glued together until you got up onto the helicopter.

You looked down at the mold infested farm. It made you feel bad for the Bakers. They were probably nice people, before it all. You closed your eyes and leaned your head back on the seat. Ethan was looking at something on his phone as you took off. A video of Mia. You had gotten one too but you didn’t want to look at it right now.

He watched it for a second and then tossed his phone off the side.

“You’re going to have to buy a new one,” you told him. “Hey, Ethan.” He had a death grip on your leg. He finally noticed it and loosened up.

“Sorry. I guess I’m just going to be extra protective now. Can’t have you slipping away from me,” he said over the noises of the helicopter.

“Glad we’re on the same page.” You put your head on his shoulder and tried to come down from the events of the past 48 hours.

====

You sat on your bed, looking through an article on your laptop. You ran a hand through your hair. There were countless articles about the Baker house. People were misquoting you and Ethan left and right but you didn’t mind. Neither of you wanted to be interviewed.

A small picture of Mia was bunched in with a family picture of the Bakers. You rubbed the bandage on your collarbone that went up to your shoulder.

It had only been a week since you got back. Everything was still healing.

“That’s gonna scar,” Ethan said as he walked into the room. You nodded, putting your hand down.

“Then your staples are gonna scar too.” “No doubt.” He sat down on the bed beside you. He looked over your shoulder at what you were looking at. “You should probably stop looking at the articles,” he muttered. You leaned back on the bed frame. He put his arms around you, shutting the laptop closed. You let out a breath.

You and Ethan hadn’t lived together before the Baker’s but you were having a hard time being away from each other. So he moved into your place for the meantime. He was liking it more than he cared to admit. People were still giving their thanks about Mia and he was already in your bed.

But he couldn’t bring himself to leave. Everytime he left you alone he would get stressed out. He meant it when he said he wasn’t going to leave you alone. Maybe one day but...not yet.

“Are you going to bed?” you muttered.

“Yeah.” You put your head on his chest.

“Alright you’ve convinced me to go to bed with you.” He chuckled and let you go so that you could both lay down. You looked at him as you both laid on your pillows, after turning the lamps out. He moved a piece of hair out of your face and calmly let out a sigh.

“Goodnight Ethan. I hope the sleeps better than the trailer.” He smiled, closing his eyes.

“We should have asked them to save that trailer. I kinda miss it.” You scoffed. He laughed a bit and put his arms around you. You fell asleep beside each other, dreaming of something better than the Bakers.

[euphoriic-dysphoria]

Blue hair - Bucky Barnes

Firs time posting something like this on Tumblr, I welcome constructive criticism, anything to make my writing better and easier to read. As long as you're not an ass about it.

Summary: you've wanted to dye your hair for sometime now, but you're too scared to do it all by yourself and it seems like a whole big thing now that you keep kinda wanna do with a friend. Yes I'm projecting😅😅

THERE MIGHT BE A PART TWO, NOT REALLY SURE YET.

Warnings ⚠️ : none, just extreme flustered bucky, whipped bucky, fluff ig yeah. Without further ado,

Bucky was falling for you. Hard. He fell more each and everyday, but somehow, you were either not into him at all, or painfully oblivious.

He said painfully, because everytime you expressed even the slightest discomfort, even if on the Quinjet you just couldn't fall asleep, bucky just had this inexplicable urge to suddenly bring you all the pillows in the world to make you happy and laugh and smile your beautiful smile.

Bucky wasn't stupid. He'd seen how smart you were on missions, and how fast you'd solved riddles to annoy Tony. You would never be oblivious to things like this. He'd long ago accepted that he was just gonna be a friend to you, of course that didn't stop him from daydreaming about you, or freezing up everytime you brushed your arm with his.

After all, some might assume what with bucky falling head over heels for you (literally, but that's a story for another time, including Sam and being at the beach) that you guys were probably best friends or at least pretty close. Nope. Bucky was embarrassed to say that you stole away all his old fashioned Brooklyn charm the minute you were in a 2 meter radius. He was so nervous he stumbled over his words and opted to just stay quiet and enjoy your presence.

Of course, you thought that bucky was just naturally shy, and well- akward. It never occurred to you that you were the cause of that shyness, but you didn't mind. You found it endearing and utterly adorable the way a pale pink would wash over his features, and brush across his nose.

Today, he was utterly relaxed, pink free, in his room in the Avengers tower, reading and trying to get the thought of you out of his mind. That was hard when abruptly a hard knock sounded at his door, and he was just about to turn around and ignore it, when he heard you mumbling and thinking outside. Supersoldierhearing

Closing his book, he straightened up and furrowed his brow, thinking as to why you'd be outside his room. He hoped everything was alright.

"buckkyyyyyyyy! Woa-hiya, how are YOU on this verrrry fine morning?" You stumbled into his room, bucky was so deep into his thoughts he wasn't aware he opened the door so suddenly, you almost fell in.

A whirlwind of chaotic energy, you recovered quickly and jumped about, before turning back to where bucky was frozen at his door.

You were only wearing a T shirt.

Now, it was 7 in the morning, and most of the avengers were well aware that you walked around in a t-shirt in the mornings, well, only Steve and Nat cause they were the only ones that woke up then. Normally, bucky wakes up earlier to do his run, and so by the time you wake up, he's showered and reading in his room.

Shaking his head a bit to uh, clear up his thoughts, he quietly trudged back to his bed, where you were sitting and excitedly bouncing up and down on.

You gave him a good morning half hug, as you were practically buzzing with energy.

Oh. That alone was more that enough to make Bucky's cheeks start to glow a dusty pink.

However, you were already setting up the boxes of hair dye on his night stand.

"ok. Alright buck, are you ready for maybe the most important decision of your lifetime?? Ahem-" Buckys eyes widened as you did a little drumroll, jiggling your thighs and bringing up your shirt a bit, but you were too absorbed in the boxes you didn't even notice.

In your best announcer voice, you looked at him and grinned. "Blue, or red?" Holding up each colour respectively.

Huh? Bucky was so focused on your smile he practically missed what you said, which would've been hella embarrassing.

"uh- I'm not- where is this coming from?" Bucky almost winced at his voice, coming out hoarse and deep.

With an angelic smile on your face a devil would fall for, you patiently explained the hair dye situation. You wanted to dye your hair. Check. You already bought the hair dye. Check. And last but not least, now you were waiting on one of your friends to reply to you about dying their hair too. This wasn't a demanding act, for you only hit up the people you knew also had wanted to dye their hair too.

"i-i uh whyreyaaskingme?" Oh god. Before Bucky had anytime to mentally smAcK himself for mumbling like that, you were already replying.

With a soft smile you said, "well of course I'm asking you buck, I don't think it's very nice to knock on people's doors at 7 in the morning unless they're awake, and Nat and Steve left together to get coffee. Plus, I trust your opinion, I'm sure you have an excellent sense of style." You teased, reminding him of the time he refused to wear a ridiculous suit that Tony had jokingly, not really, designed.

Buck sighed quietly, as you made your way to the bathroom to compare the colours. Ouch. It was never a nice feeling to know you had come to him out of necessity. Little did he know, you had earlier rushed Nat and Steve straight outta here, in attempts to build a closer bond with bucky. Those two just shared a smug little knowing look, before hightailing it right out of the tower.

Lost in his thoughts, bucky didn't realize you had stopped muttering to yourself about the hair colours.

It was quiet. Too quiet. In the bathroom, there was absolutely no sound.

Bucky frowned, making his way over, and knocked on the door.

"can-uh do you mind if I come in?" Bucky knocked.

The door creaked open, and Bucky peeked inside to find your dejected expression and little pouty lips as you sat on the edge of the sink counter, scrolling through your phone.

"hey- wh-whats wrong doll?" Aw jeez. Cut it out, he said firmly in his head. Stop stuttering, just talk to her like a normal person.

"you- wanna tell me why you're looking like a sad puppy down over here?" Bucky's breath hitches as he's in the middle of berating himself for comparing you to a puppy, when you finally look up and meet his eyes, droplets threatening to leak and break past your waterline.

Bucky's heart just about cracks at the sadness radiating off of you. As far as he knows, you of all people should never have to feel this sad. All nervousness forgotten, he quickly bends down and tilts your chin up, tenderly wiping away the tears that have now started their journey down your cheeks.

It's been 5 minutes of you and him, leaning against each other as he wipes away the quiet tears that keep replacing each other.

Finally, in a quiet voice, you explain. At first it was just the dissapointment of no one wanting to really dye their hair with you. But you understood. Really, it was early in the morning, and it was easy to see why people didn't wanna dye their hair right away, or at all even. You completely and totally respected them and their choices. But then, you thought, maybe they're annoyed at me. Maybe, they don't like me anymore. Maybe they wish I'd leave them alone. Maybe they'd be better off without me.

You were well aware you were spiralling, but after the negative thoughts started, it was hard to stop. You had anxiety of these types of things.

Countless times, Nat and Wanda had had to reassure your wanted presence and that the team did love you.

While you were explaining, Buckys arms slowly snaked around to embrace you, and put his chin on top of you head. He was sad, simply because you were.

But listening to your thought process made him realize that you were human too, and it opened his eyes to listen to your anxiousness, no matter how much it still hurt.

Uh oh. The feeling was coming back, tugging at bucky, eating him away, making him want to do anything to make you happier.

Tightening his arms around you one last time before releasing you, he blurted, "uh- I'll dye m-my hair."

Your eyes widened. A small smile slowly creeped onto your tear streaked face. "Yo-you'd do that f-for me?" You hiccuped.

Holy shit. Oh man. Bucky would've tattooed his face if it gave you that little glowing smile and hopeful face you were giving to him now.

"Oh doll. You wouldn't believe what I'd do for you."

PART TWO IS NOW UP

[perzawa]

→ defender of justice

saeyoung choi x fem! reader

desc: you weren’t the best at relationships. man after man, woman after woman, but you could not find the right one. after getting stood up on a date, a mysterious man with red hair comes to the rescue. 

genre: smut

warnings: praise kink, unprotected sex, sex with a stranger, pet names

word count: 3.1K

Not again.

Not like this.

Hot tears pricked your eyes, the salty liquid rolling slowly down your flaming cheeks. How long had it been since you were sitting in that exact spot, waiting and waiting and waiting. You looked around like a lost puppy, mouth agape and eyes wide. Where the hell was he? You scammed the restaurant, your eyes glossing over multiple bodies of men and women. Everyone looked so happy with their spouses or potential mates, smiling in the faces of each other as they shared meals. 

That was supposed to be you laughing. That was meant to be you sharing spaghetti with your boyfriend. How could you be so foolish to believe he’d show up this time? 

“Ma’am, are you ready to pay for your meal?” The woman asked kindly, eyes shut with a large smile plastered on her features. You frowned, wiping away at the tears forming in your eyes. 

“Just a moment, ma’am.” 

“Okay! I’ll be back!” She left soon after. Sweat trickled down your eyebrows and your breathing hitched, stomach churning painfully. You were surrounded by couples. Everywhere you looked, there was a couple. Man, women, women, men. You’d given up. He won. Getting ready to pay and leave, you stood up, wiping at the new tears forming in your eyes. 

You took one last look around. Multiple people had been paying attention to you now, apologetic looks dancing across their faces. You simply smiled in their directions. You didn’t need pity from anyone. You’ve been stood up before, you’ll be fine. Yeah, you’ll be fine after you eat six tubs of ice cream and cry your eyes out for a week. Maybe you and Akira weren’t meant to be. You had given up now, sighing as you reached for your wallet, standing to your aching feet.

Just then, a pair of shoes stepped into your vision and you looked up, instantly in awe. 

“Hey, sorry I’m late. You can sit down now.” 

You stared up at him, lips agape as you tried to process his request. This wasn’t Akira. I mean, he was no doubt more attractive than Akira was in every way, but he definitely wasn’t Akira. The last time you’d seen him, Akira had black hair, not red. 

“W-Who are you?” 

“I’m Seven. Just go with it, okay?” He whispered to you, sitting in the seat across the table from yours. Shocked, you didn’t say anything, only blinking at the man. 

“I was standing there,” he looked over and pointed to the small line of people waiting to be seated. “I was there for a bit and I noticed that you’d been stood up.” You winced hearing the words, eyes darting down in embarrassment. You knew he wasn’t coming, but it still ached to hear him put it so matter-of-factly. 

“He’s a dick. Or she.” 

“A-Are you here with someone?” You tripped over your words, rubbing your exposed arm with your hand. Suddenly the air was cooler, tighter. 

“Nah, I came alone. I originally came for pickup, but seeing a pretty little lady all by herself made me change my mind.” 

“O-Oh…” you tilted your head up at him. “Please, I don't wish to burden you or anything. You’re incredibly sweet, but you can get your food.” 

The mysterious man chuckled, running his hand through his shaggy hair as his eyes looked you up and down. “You’re precious.” 

“I’m serious. I don’t want you to pity me. I saw this coming.” You mumbled those last words, pushing your plate of food to the middle of the table, hoping a waitress would swing by soon so that you could leave quickly. 

“Hey, I’m sorry. My conscience won’t allow me to leave you alone here.” You frowned, crossing your legs under the table. Your eyes met his and you’d noticed how pretty his were, suddenly melting. This man was adorable. Sure, he was kinda underdressed to be eating there, but you overlooked his apparel. He was hot. 

A few minutes passed by of an odd silence before a waitress came by, taking your old food and asking who she assumed to be your date, if he was ready to order. 

So he did. 

“Seven…” you muttered, hoping he would’ve been gone by now. “You’re too nice. I-I’ll pay for this as a thank you.” 

“Pay for it? Oh, hush, I got it. I’ve got enough. Don’t thank me for anything, okay?” 

And that was it. He ordered food and even shared a bit with you, even after you explained that you’d already eaten. You didn’t even know how you could both find so much to talk about, being complete strangers and all. But you still found a way. You incorporated jobs, home life, and he even allowed you to talk about your relationship with Akira a bit. 

“I was right. He sounds like an ass.” 

You giggled, reaching over the table to fork some of his salad before shoving it in your mouth. Seven gazed at you in awe, his focus completely set on you whenever you decided to share something, anything. 

“He wasn’t always like that, I promise. We got along really well for a while and it was perfect,” you looked down at the table you were sitting at before a dry chuckle found its way out of you. “We’re a bit off and on, you could say. That’s why this was so important to me. I guess he didn’t care as much.”

Seven frowned, noticing your change in demeanor. 

“Don’t let that get you down, okay? Look, you may not know me, but I’m here now. And as far as I’m concerned, I’m having so much fun right now. I’m glad he didn’t show up.” 

“Really? Y-You’re having fun?” Your eyes widened and you felt blood rush to your cheeks, self consciously rubbing your arm, which had now produced an insane amount of goosebumps. 

“Course I am, sweetie. What? You thought I stayed for my health? You’re cool. He’s missing out.” 

And with that, you both changed the subject to forget about Akira. He was irrelevant. 

You didn’t end up paying for your bill in the end, Seven did. Of course he did it, throwing in a ‘you really thought I’d let you pay for this alone?’ While he was at it. He escorted you out, hands stuffed in his pocket. You felt the cool air embrace your skin, the new area calming you now, the wind sweeping away every negative thought you experienced that evening. You almost forgot you’d even been stood up in the first place, really. But that’s how fun the ginger was. He was sweet and loud, always making jokes. His humor was a little bit odd. Well, it was extremely odd, but it made him more attractive to you. From his striped glasses to his plain sneakers, he was so down to earth. You wanted to talk to him again. You needed to say thank you. 

“I had a great time. Hey, actually, you never told me your name.” He turned to you, both of you still standing in front of the building. 

“Oh! You’re right! It’s Y/N.” 

“Well, Y/N, I had a good time. I’ll get going now, you take care for me.” The tall man turned away, pressing the button on his keys. Your ears perked up after hearing the car beep, indicating that the car was his. 

He was leaving. 

C’mon, Y/N. Ask him. It won’t be hard, right? The worst he could say is that he’s probably busy or he’s got work in the morning. Just do it. Do it. 

You yelped and that seemed to snatch his attention, the man whipping around to see if you were alright. 

“You good?” 

“Y-Yeah! Um, I’ve got no idea if you’re like busy tomorrow or something,” you trailed off, staring at your heels as you rocked back and forth on them. “I wanted to know if you wanted to come over! J-Just to like, watch Netflix. Unless you’re busy! Then that’s okay! I’m so sorry for burdening you!” You rambled on, your face entirely flushed, your body swinging sporadically from putting yourself on the spot like that. 

“Hey, hey, stop that,” he pushed your chin up, your eyes drifting to his hair, rather than his eyes. “I’d love to come over, okay? Hell, where’s your car? Let’s go right now.” 

Your eyes shot down to his, your face lighting up at his kind words. 

“Oh! Um, I took a cab here!” 

“That’s fine. Just gimme the directions, I’ll take you.” 

You could feel your heart swell in your chest. He was so damn cute. His smile stretched across his entire face, eyes closed from his cheeks pushing them upward. He guided you to his vehicle and let's just say you were more than impressed with his ride, eyes widening. Damn, now you really had to know where this man worked to afford such an expensive car. That was a question for another day. You pulled up a GPS and from there, the ride was mostly silent. You aimlessly scrolled through your twitter feed until he pulled up outside your home, first asking if he was at the right place. 

“Yeah, this is it!” Seven nodded and parked in your driveway, stepping out of his car awkwardly waiting for you to unlock the door before he did anything else. He locked his car, following after you. You giggled and unlocked your home, your cat rushing to the opening door to greet you. 

Seven laughed, pushing his way in as well. “Hey! I love cats!” 

You beamed, bending down to pet your feline. “Mmm, that’s a funny coincidence! Her name’s Elle.” 

Seven’s goofy demeanor dropped into a much more serious one. “You’re lying! There’s no way! M-My friend, his cat’s name is Elizabeth!” 

You threw your hands up, bursting into a fit of laughter. You looked up at the flickering lights, wishing you’d remembered to turn them off before you left the house. That was your worst bad habit. Seven noticed the flickering as well, but ignored it, just standing awkwardly as he awaited your next steps. You turned the main light off and led him to your living room, sitting on your sofa. He plopped down on the furniture and spotted the remote on the coffee table, passing it to you. You thanked him and turned the television on, the bright light illuminating the living space. 

“Whatcha wanna watch?” You asked, turning to Netflix. 

“Uh, scary movie? Or Anime? I could care less.” You nodded and searched for a horror film that you could both agree on, settling the remote on the coffee table. Not too long had passed before you were both cuddled up together, reclining the sofa so that neither of you would roll off by accident. You didn’t think you’d get so comfortable with a stranger, but there you were watching a horror movie with him while his arms were wrapped around your hips, pulling you into his touch. You’d be a fibber if you said you didn’t like it. 

“I hope you know I meant what I said. You’re cool as hell.” 

“Could say the same for you, Mr. Seven.” 

“Oh,” he teased, his lips close to your ear. “Am I Mister now?” 

“Depends. Do you wanna be called that?” 

Seven snickered, rubbing circles into your waist. A low groan escaped your lips, a small laugh following. Neither of you even cared about the movie anymore. 

“I guess that depends on what type of Mister you’re thinking of.” 

Chills ran down your spine and you smiled, slowly grinding yourself onto him. Seven’s breath hitched in his throat, a small chuckle following after. 

“That’s how we’re playing?” You didn’t respond, simply moaning while you continued grinding yourself against him. Seven gripped your hips tighter, rocking his hips against your ass. He pushed your hair out of the way, pressing his lips to the back of your neck. You let out a yelp, melting into his touch while his hips continued to move against your ass. You could feel him hardening, his tongue flicking against your skin. 

Seven groaned, sucking marks onto your innocent neck while you felt yourself getting lost in his touch. 

“Can I fuck you?” He whispered, thumbs rubbing circles into your hips again. You nodded, and before you knew it, he’d instantly had you on your back. 

“You know,” he started, grinning down at your defenseless body. “I did not think this was how tonight would play out. But I’m so glad it did.” He unbuckled his pants, pulling his cock free from his underwear. His cock sprung free, precum already bubbling at the tip. You licked your lips at the sight, feeling a surge of wetness rush through your pussy, wetting your white underwear. You shut your eyes tightly, your fingers finding their way to your underwear as something in your forced you to circle your clit through your panties. 

Seven spat on his hand, the mixture of saliva and precum slicking his cock enough. “That’s hot. Keep going.” He whispered, stroking himself to the sight in front of him. You whimpered, finger rubbing circles into your clothed clit while he jerked his hard cock, groaning at the your vulnerability. 

“Yeah, that’s good. So good. C’mon, take those pretty little panties off.” You weren’t hesitant at all, quickly sliding the panties down your ass. You’d never been fucked on your sofa before, oddly enough. You’d been fucked almost everywhere in your house but the time to do it on your sofa never really came up. You were glad, though, it was so hard to get comfortable on the black leather furniture. 

“Let me see that pretty pussy,” he muttered, pulling your dress up to your neck, the pink bra exposed under the fabric. Seven gripped your clothed tit before kneeling between your legs, leaning forward. 

“You’re so pretty. Your body’s so damn pretty. Everything about it. I don’t even remember his name, but he’s fuckin’ missing out.” 

He circled his wet tip against your clit, gathering some of your slick on his cock. You cried out. 

“Please, Seven, hurry.” 

“Are you rushing me? Bad girl.” He kissed the side of your lip before pushing against your entrance, sliding into the tight heat. You gasped, tears forming in your eyes from the painful stretch. It was probably helpful to mention how big Seven was. You almost couldn’t see from the constantly fading light of the television, but he was a good size. One you didn’t expect from someone so thin and lanky. Not that you weren’t appreciative or anything. 

“Oh.” 

“Oh?” 

“Yeah,” you whispered, wrapping your legs around his waist as he bottomed out inside of you, waiting for a moment to move. 

“Tight.” He choked out, pulling out halfway before slamming back into you, grunting with each thrust. His thrusts were sloppy and uncoordinated, but you could care less, clenching around his constantly moving length. You cried out his name, tears falling from your eyes. 

Seven found a good pace to fuck you at, rocking his hips inside of you slowly while you adjusted to his large cock, pussy fluttering over him.

“Fuck yeah, baby. So good. So, so good. I could cum on the spot feeling you grip me like this.” 

You looked into his eyes, slamming your lips against his waiting ones without any thinking. Seven moaned into the exchange, pounding you as hard as he could while his tongue pushed past your opened lips, both of your tongues intertwined. Your velvet walls gripped his cock harder, causing the man to begin moaning, hips stuttering while he fucked into you. You felt like you were already on edge, rocking your hips against his. Your ears perked up and you yelped hearing your phone ring. 

Seven’s eyes darted over to the contact name, sweat dripping down his glistening forehead. 

‘Akira 💕…’ 

“Answer it,” he snarled, his pace never haulting. He was quicker, harder, as he fucked his cock into you, head constantly hitting against your special spot. You couldn’t help but moan, tears drying on your cheeks while fire spread inside of you, the overwhelming need to cum urging you on. You didn’t question him, simply reaching over to the coffee table to grab the device, answering it. 

“Yeah?” You put him on speaker. 

Seven’s eyes were cut, focusing on the conversation while pounding you. He gripped your waist tightly, stifling a moan. 

“Sorry I couldn’t make it. I don’t know, I don’t think we should be seeing each other anymore.” 

Your heart dropped at his words and your stomach churned. 

“Fuck yeah,” Seven moaned loudly, throwing his head back. His hands travelled lower, gripping your ass while his cock hit the hilt of your pussy over and over again. You were so close, almost there. 

“Who’s that?” Akira squeaked. 

“No one,” you moaned out, forgetting to even hold back by now. 

“Tell him. Tell him how good you feel. Go ahead, naughty girl. Tell him.” 

You felt more tears well in your eyes, fresh liquid dripping to your damp cheeks. 

“I feel so good, Seven. Please fuck me. Harder, please. So close. I’m gonna cum. Please,” you managed to get out, fucking yourself on his cock while holding the phone in your hand. Ever thrust felt like energy being launched into your body, electricity shocking you each time your pussy clenched on his cock, walls constantly being jabbed at. It felt so good. You were almost there. One more thrust. 

“I want you to feel good. Want you to feel so fucking good. Do you feel good? You feel good with my cock inside you? Yeah?” 

“Yeah. Gonna cum, Seven. Close.” 

“Okay. That’s okay. Go ahead, I’m close too, pretty girl.” By now, Akira had hung up, his own heart dropping to his feet as well. As long as he understood how you felt, it was okay. You were fine. You’d be fine like this. 

He sped up, sporadically whimpering sweet nothings as he pounded you through your orgasm, pussy fluttering around his length while you came, cum coating his dick. Seven screamed out, burying himself to the hilt inside of you while he came, shooting his load into your gaping heat. He collapsed on top of you, both of your breathing uneven. 

“Good. That was good,” you found a way to croak out, releasing your grip on his waist. He didn’t respond, only kissing your sweaty neck. 

“Good girl.” He said, cock still buried inside of you. You flushed at the nickname, whimpering. He waited again to speak when you’d both caught your breath, bodies still, simply enjoying the presence of the other. The television was still on, the movie was over now. It had probably been over for a while. 

“Maybe it's not the right time for this, but can I take you out next week?

[absolutelyfizzing]

potions class confessions (james potter x reader)

description - Reader is a potions natural and she gets paired up with James in class. While trying to make conversation they both let it slip that they might have a crush on each other. oops?

word count - about 1800

warning - Fluff!! avoidance and awkwardness, James being maybe a little shy ooc. Reader is a badass. House not specified but non Gryffindor is implied. Some negative self talk. There is also wolfstar!

MASTERLIST

Potions was by far your favorite class. The professor loved you and you had it with Gryffindor. This meant that you got to see him. James Potter. The golden boy of his year. You knew he was probably out of your league but you were pretty badass as well if you did say so yourself. You had top marks and were the seeker of Y/H. You were also widely liked, even though you weren't as loud or outspoken as the troublesome group of four in Gryffindor house. Your attention was drawn to your professor when he began to call out partners for the next couple weeks of the course. Your heart nearly stopped when he said you would be partners with none other than James Potter. Your heart picked up speed. You had a crush on the boy but you knew he was deeply infatuated with the beautiful Lily Evans of his own house. You knew better than to try to compete.

You looked over to where he sat with his friends and they were all giving him looks and shoving his shoulders. You thought they might be making fun of him for having to be partnered with you. You felt heat rise to your cheeks. He looked over and you made eye contact. Both of you looked away as quickly as possible and your cheeks darkened in color.

By the middle of class you had all migrated into your potion pairs and your assignment was to make a very simple healing potion that you could make in your sleep. It was more for practice than anything else. You hadn't spoken a word to James and he seemed unusually quiet. You had a suspicion that he didn't like you. He got pretty quiet whenever you were around and he sometimes would even leave the room when you entered. You didn't know why he didn't like you but you pressed on. And your crush persisted nonetheless.

"Quit staring at me, you're making me nervous." You mumbled as you began pouring in ingredients but you could feel his gaze on the side of your head.

You didn't look up when you heard him mutter a small, "Sorry." It was a short response and your heart sped up a bit at even the sound of his voice. Oh you were whipped and he wouldn't even talk to you.

"Do you wanna do this next part? You should participate if you want full marks on the assignment but I can keep going if you want me to." You offered, finally looking up at him. He was taller than you but his eyes were piercing. You held the spoon out a bit for him to take if he wanted and he smiled a bit at you before grabbing it. His hand brushing against yours had your heart fluttering and you thought you might just throw up. You both stared at the potion as James began to stir and he counted his rotations. When he got to 20 you threw something else in and he began to stir again, counting to 20 again. It was a bit tedious and ridiculously quiet.

"So, are you looking forward to the match tomorrow?" you tried to find a common discussion topic. He smiled a bit and took the spoon out of the cauldron. You looked to the clock and began the countdown of 5 minutes for the potion to sit before the next step.

"I'm very much looking forward to it. We are for sure gonna beat Y/H" he looked over at you slyly. You gasped dramatically.

"How dare you! I will have you know that I have caught the snitch in every match this year but one and that was because your beater hit me early in the game. I will be beating you tomorrow." You smirked. He looked at you with amusement in his eyes and he giggled a bit. He wasn't nearly as cocky alone as he was in large crowds.

"You're probably right. Our seeker is a bloody dud and it's unfair that we have to deal with him while Y/H has you, you're the best seeker Hogwarts has had in 50 years." He smiled at you, his volume matching yours, louder than your previous murmurs. You blushed under his gaze and under the praise that you hadn't expected. You thought he would tease you back instead of showering you with compliments.

"Flattery wont make me go easier on you, Potter. I'm still going to beat Gryffindor." you smiled., trying to bring the teasing back before the conversation got too serious and you revealed something you weren't supposed to. His eyes sparked at you and he smiled for a second longer before breaking your eye contact and chuckling.

"It was worth a try." He grinned, "You know, Remus was jealous I got to be your potions partner cause you're such a genius in potions and he's got to deal with stumble-y over there. " he nodded over to where you could see Remus trying to corral Sirius away from their cauldron as Sirius was a bit notorious for dropping things that happened to cause explosions. You laughed and blushed at the compliment.

"You do just fine on your own but thank you." You tried to calm your heart rate a bit. "Are they dating?" you questioned genuinely, still gazing at the duo across the room. You had seen them in the halls standing a bit close for friends and you thought you saw them holding hands once. James smiled like he was remembering something fondly and shakes his head.

"Not yet." he said simply. You quirked an eyebrow at him questioningly. "They've both got massive crushes on each other but refuse to see it. They'll figure it out eventually but for now its just endless flirting and it is downright exhausting." He said but all with a smile on his face, never an ounce of annoyance in his voice. "Have you had anyone catch your eye yet? I cant believe you aren't dating anyone." He continued to make conversation.

"I've thought about a few guys but the ones I like aren't the ones that like me." You tried to say lightly, avoiding eye contact with James. "But thats no big deal, I've got bigger things to worry about than who wants to take me to Hogsmeade next weekend or who's going to pick me up on the quidditch pitch when I've won that match tomorrow." You joked but James didn't really laugh.

"I want to." He looked at you before the timer you had set went off. Before you could say anything he started asking questions about what was next and you quickly threw the right ingredient in and stirred it three times. You raised your hand to call the professor over and while you were explaining your work you could feel James fidgeting behind you. The professor told you to sit tight the rest of class as you had finished early and you nodded at him before turning back to James.

"Are you pranking me or something?" You questioned lightly, already slightly upset that he would joke about something that you didn't want to joke about. You saw him look up into your eyes and furrow his eyebrows at you.

"No I'm not pranking you, why would you ask me that?" he asked, concern filled his voice. You looked down again and felt your heart pick up, your eyes stinging.

"Its just that I know that you have a think for Evans and I didn't know if you were kidding a second ago." you relied honestly. You felt a hand on yours before your pinkie was linked with his.

"I'm not pranking you. And I don't actually like Evans. I mean she's one of my best friends but me being in love with her was a rumor Sirius started as revenge for me telling Remus he liked him. I've.." He sighed a bit, "I've had a crush on you for a few years now actually." he looked sad. You moved so you were fully holding his hand and you squeezed.

"Look, if you're serious then I would love to go to Hogsmeade with you, I've liked you for a significant amount of time, I just don't want you to feel like you have to cause you pity me or something." you mumbled the last part. James looked at you inquisitively.

"Why would I pity you? As I've said you're the best seeker I've ever seen at Hogwarts and you can properly kick my ass in any class we happen to be in. And I promise I'm only half trying to get you to go easy on the match tomorrow." you smiled at the end and you chuckled a bit.

"Okay then, will you go to Hogsmeade with me next weekend?" You questioned, a bit more sure of yourself.

"Of course I will. I was also hoping I could steal a tie or two so I can properly represent when i'm at your matches. When you aren't actively crushing my team, that is." he smiled and your heart soared.

"I guess we will have to make a trade." you smiled and as soon as class let out you walked hand in hand into the corridor.

"Finally! Took you long enough, mate." you heard the voice of the raven haired boy behind you as he stood rather close to his not-yet-boyfriend. He pushed James a bit in the shoulder and held his hand out to Remus. Remus sighed and handed him a galleon.

"You couldn't have waited to make it official until the Hogsmeade trip? You've just cost me a galleon." he teased and you both laughed a bit.

"You should have let me in on the bet before hand and I could have kept it professional for another week." you smiled and James pushed you a bit from the side and you all laughed.

You looked over at him and his smile was so wide it made his eyes nearly close. You took a deep breath as you finished laughing and you started to pull him toward the dining hall where you were planning on getting dinner. His hand left yours and instead snaked up to you head so he could push your hair to press a kiss to the side of your head and you blushed deeply. You couldn’t have cared less when you heard a gagging sound behind you from the best friends of the man you hoped to be with for a longtime.