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angryschnauzer · 3 years ago

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Blackwater Lake - Chapter 3

Summary: There’s a little town high in the mountains where everyone has a secret, and every family has something that makes them unique. In Blackwater Lake those that are outcast by nature come together.

Characters/Pairing: August Walker x OFC Freya (Forest Nymph) Original Female Character is described as white/pale, short and of small build, hazel eyes, long dark hair.

Warnings (for this chapter); Talk of past abusive relationships, on the run, alcohol consumption, Daddy Kink, DD/LG, Pet names, fingering, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected sex, hyperspermia, cum play, cum feeding, unplanned pregnancy, pregnancy test.

Previous Parts:

Werewolf!Sy: Moonlight on the Sand Castle Under The Stars. Werewolf!Sy, Vampire!Walter: Chapter 1 Vampire Walter: Chapter 2

This will be a series of stand alone stories/2 parters, which will revolve around the residents of the town, with some recurring characters. The ‘reader’ for each story will be a ‘new’ reader, so its not the same woman being with all the male characters.

I do not run a tag list, but please follow @angryschnauzerwrites and put that blog onto notifications. You’ll then get an alert every time i post something new.

Blackwater Lake - Chapter 3

The blood slowly trickled across the board and off the table, coating the floor before running into the drain. August raised the heavy cleaver, and with one thunderous swipe severed the femur clean in two. The cleaver made a metallic clang that echoed around the stark tile lined room, and wiping his hands on his apron he lifted the product of his work and inspected his efforts closely. A smile spread over his lips as he looked up;

“There we go Mrs Mackenzie, a nice juicy bone for your dog”

The old woman smiled, her purple tinted grey hair in tight curls that barely moved as she nodded;

“Oh yes, that’ll be perfect! My Clarence will love it!”

At that very moment Clarence started yapping outside where he was tied to the specials chalkboard that sat on the sidewalk outside Walkers Meats, 10lbs of teeth, fur and anger wrapped into the body of a small West Highland Terrier;

“I’m sure he will. I’ll wrap it up for you and Freya will finish ringing up your order for you. We’ll get it delivered this afternoon…”

August walked around the counter and set the wrapped bone into the box, nodding to his assistant to finish up the order. She knew that the bone would be free of charge, but that Mrs Mackenzie would insist on tipping and sliding her $10 which August was more than happy for Freya to keep. The slight girl turned and a tiny smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, before she quietly nodded and continued with her duties.

Returning to the butchery area August glanced up and caught sight of his reflection in the painted mirror, the design obscuring the scarring on the side of his face, giving him that moment of relief from those memories of a past long ago, a life he had left behind when he had sought out quiet solitude in the peaceful mountain town of Blackwater Lake. People minded their own business there and didn’t ask questions. If you had a skill that could help others you were welcomed into the community. How August got into the meat business is a story for another day, but as his gaze travelled across the mirror to where Freya was measuring out the wild herb mixes into small mason jars he smiled and remembered instead how she came into his life.

Pulling the sign in from the sidewalk August was exhausted. Running a business completely on his own had seemed like a good idea when he’d started, he enjoyed his own company and he distrusted anyone else to do the job to a standard he would approve of. What he hadn’t counted on was the residents of this sleepy little town not only accepting him, but joyous that he was there and wanting to talk endlessly every time they visited his store. Although he was always polite and did his best to end conversations quickly, after eight hours of it he had jaw ache and knew he would need to work well into the night on the new sides of beef that had been delivered that morning if he were to have any stock to sell the next day. He glanced longingly at the small sign that sat propped up in the window; ‘Help Needed - Enquire Within’, yet he hadn’t had any takers in the month the sign had been up.

The icy winter wind curled at his neck, sending a shiver down his spine as he let out a sigh, heaving the heavy sign into the building so it didn’t blow away in the night as a icy squall blew in from the mountains. As the door slammed shut behind him it echoed a knock around the store, but when it came again he turned and let out a far from masculine yelp; the face of a pale young woman stared back at him like a ghoul in the darkness. Clearing his throat and smoothing down his blue and white striped apron, he approached the door and opened it;

“May I help you Miss?”

She nodded down to the sign;

“Do you still need someone?”

Her teeth were chattering, and it was hardly surprising as she was barely dressed for the weather, the knitted cardigan doing little to ward off the cold wind. August opened the door to allow her to enter, looking down at the top of her head as she slunk past him.

“Let me get a pot of coffee on, you must be freezing”

As he disappeared into the back office he set the pot of coffee on to heat before grabbing an old jacket that was hanging on the back of the door, returning to where his visitor stood in the store a few moments later, handing her the jacket;

“Its cold in here, we can’t have the heat on because of the meat”

Nodding she took the jacket, her teeth still chattering;

“T-t-thanks… its still warmer than outside”

He handed her a mug of steaming coffee;

“Sorry, i don’t have any creamer or sugar…” She wrapped her delicate fingers around the mug using it more for heat than sustenance as he leant back against the counter on the other side of the store; “So… you’re wanting a job? What experience have you got? You worked in retail?”

She shook her head and muttered a quiet no, keeping her eyes averted from him as she spoke;

“But i will try anything… just looking for a new start”

“Are you running from something?” A gentle nod of her head and the way she clutched the mug tighter told August it was a someone not a something; “Look, if you’re willing to learn, work hard and pay attention, i’ll give you a trial. I’ve gotta level with you, you’re the only person who’s shown any interest in the sign, and i’m getting desperate, so if you want you can start tomorrow”

Her head snapped up and for the first time he saw her eyes, deep hazel peering out from behind long strands of dark brown hair;

“Really?”

“Yes. Really” he stated in a matter of fact way; “I’ll need to get your address and details for the wages…”

“Oh… i’m not… i’ve not got anywhere. I guess i’ll find a cheap motel…”

August paused;

“Kid, there’s no motel in town… at least not this time of year. But i might have a solution for you”

Her eyes widened in fear and August realised whatever she was running from had done more damage than she showed;

“No no, not that” he assured her; “There’s a small apartment above the shop - two in fact, i’ve got one and the other i’ve never rented out, never got round to it… its small but completely self contained, your own entrance and everything, completely secure”

Once a few forms had been filled out August had gotten the girl settled in the small studio apartment. He’d shown her how the fold out bed worked, explained that the hot water fed off the furnace for the whole building so she could use as much as she wanted. A couple of minutes after he’d left her in the apartment he knocked at her door, surprised to hear the locks sliding across at first, but then realising she needed to feel safe. When she peered around the door she almost looked surprised to see him there, as if it would be anyone else;

“Umm yeah?”

August handed her a box of things he’d scavenged from his own kitchen;

“Here’s just a few things to see you through the night… I haven’t been grocery shopping in a while, but the bread was in the freezer and it’ll defrost pretty quickly if you put it in the toaster”

He handed the box to Freya, surprised at how smooth but also small her hands were as she took it from him as they brushed against his own. She nodded and smiled;

“Thank you Mr Walker”

“Night. See you bright and early tomorrow morning”

The next morning August woke to an insistent knocking on his door. Grumbling to himself he pulled on his robe and stalked across his small apartment, pulling the door open with a thunderous look on his face, ready to give whatever maniac that was knocking on his door at 5am a piece of his mind;

“WHAT THE… oh… hi…”

Freya was standing on his doormat, a look of shock on her face;

“Hi… i’m ready to start”

“To… start?”

“Work. You said bright and early”

August ran his palm over his face;

“I… When i said…” he let out a long slow breath; “I meant 8am”

“Oh.”

That was a long day, but by lunchtime Freya had mastered the cash desk and had already started to come out of her shell, the locals more than welcoming for the tiny girl with the woodland eyes, and with her help August was able to catch up on his work.

Over the following month her input had helped August expand his products, suggesting a range of seasonings in reusable jars, where if the customer returned the mason jar they’d get a discount off the next one they purchased. He discovered she had this unfathomable knowledge of herbs and plants, but also had this connection with nature he couldn’t quite understand. He’d sometimes catch her staring out of the window at the trees blowing in the wind, as if listening to their songs that were beyond his own ears.

One thing was for sure, there was a sense of magic to her and August thanked the stars above that she walked into his store on that cold winter night.

Back in the present August was busy cleaning the cutting table as Freya busied herself with her jars - it was her own little enterprise now and one she was absolutely proud of. He could see that she kept glancing outside, gnawing on her lip;

“Freya, everything ok?”

“Yes Mr Walker. I was just thinking, the next batch wild garlic is ready to be picked, if i collect some this afternoon i can have more chimichurri mixed ready for tomorrow, and that’s when the beef delivery is coming in”

August let out a chuckle;

“How many times do I have to say to call me August…” he met her gaze with a smile; “And yes, that sounds like a brilliant idea. The store’s quiet and i’ll be doing deliveries in a while, so sure, go exploring”

“Thank you Mr Walker”

August rolled his eyes and let out a laugh, watching as she hung up her apron and grabbed her foraging basket, skipping out of the door and towards the creek that fed into the lake a couple of miles away.

Three hours later August was driving back along the gravel road that led into town, having made his deliveries. The spring air was damp but warm, rain threatening to spill but the clouds unwilling to release their bounty just yet. Rounding the bend he looked out over the soft marshland, the grass knee high already and he saw a familiar figure stepping through the green undergrowth. With a smile he pulled his SUV to a stop at the side of the road, stepping out of the vehicle he leaned against the door as he watched Freya as she slowly made her way through the field, before she stopped as her attention moved to the treeline. Following her gaze he watched as a bear emerged from the woods and his heart sank. The native wildlife would be coming out of hibernation, and would be grumpy and hungry. He went to shout but a sudden rush of wind silenced his voice, watching as she held her arm out and the grass flattened in front of her as if a wind devil had made its way through. Glancing back to the bear it had stopped in its tracks but was still staring at her, but then started to circle around on the spot before settling down as if for a nap.

August anxiously watched, knowing if Freya ran she could make it to the car as long as the bear was weak, but he didn’t want to risk that it hadn’t had a belly full of salmon yet, so he quickly reached into the vehicle and pulled his unregistered handgun from beneath his seat. Back at the side of the road he raised the firearm at the bear, glancing at Freya who had now spotted him waiting for her. She started to quicken her pace through the grasses, eventually breaking into a run as she neared the embankment of the road. August glanced to where the bear had been and let out a yell as he saw it was starting to approach them;

“Freya, RUN!”

Doing as he instructed she broke into a sprint, her legs carrying her through the grass and up the embankment. Flinging his door open he motioned for her to dive in, her basket being launched into the passenger footwell as she tumbled across the centre console and into the passenger seat, August launching himself into the driver's seat and gunning the engine as he slammed the door shut, the urgent crunch of tyres on loose gravel dulling the sound of the grizzly’s roar as it had caught up, but was now rapidly disappearing into the distance of the rear view mirror.

August only slowed down as he reached the urban centre of Blackwater Lake, Freya’s breathing having finally levelled out as she turned to him;

“So… there’s bears here?”

He slowed the vehicle and pulled to a stop in a parking lot before turning to her;

“Yes. And moose and cougars and mountain lions… hell sometimes I even hear howls in the night so there’s probably something wolfy up in those mountains too… We need to get you better prepared for nature” August paused; “And what was that thing you did with your hand? That made the grass flatten and the bear sit down…”

Freya shrugged;

“I’m not sure… it's just this thing i’ve always been able to do, calm animals down”

“Huh. Didn’t seem to work this time…”

She glanced at him, her eyes wide;

“I think that was because you were there…”

August let out a laugh, before sitting back in his seat;

“Okay, point taken. I need a drink. We’re at Big-G’s, I'll buy you dinner…”

August regretted his decision. He hadn’t factored in how slight Freya was in comparison to her ability to consume alcohol, so three drinks later where all he’d had was lite beer, Freya was completely wasted. The giveaway was when she’d fallen asleep on his shoulder whilst he’d been talking to Geralt - the bar owner - and she’d started to drool on his shirt. Geralt had told him to ‘get his girl home’ with a wry laugh, telling August his meal was on the house. Something had stopped August from correcting the ashen haired man, looking down at the imp of the girl leaning on him.

He’d managed to carry her to his car fairly easily but the journey up the steps at their building had been more of a challenge. He’d managed to get her to wrap her arms around his shoulders, but had been surprised when she’d also wrapped her legs around his waist. Although it meant he could use one arm to hold her up, the feel of her warm body clinging to his sent a rush of heat through his stomach straight to his groin, he was just thankful she was so out of it she didn’t notice the tent in his pants.

As he juggled his keys he found the spare for her apartment but then thought better of it, unsure how she was when she’d had alcohol, and instead opened his own apartment. Crossing the almost dark room he reached the couch and slowly lowered her down to the cushions, her whimpers of loss as he started to pull away making him pause;

“Mmmm Daddy, you’re so warm…”

Holding her still a low rumble slowly bubbled through his throat when she nuzzled against his neck;

“Daddy smells so good…” and she pressed a kiss to the stubble on his chin.

August knew she was drunk, probably didn’t even realise it was him, after all who would want someone as broken and scarred as he was, but for that briefest of moment’s he relished her touch and what was going on in her tequila addled mind. He couldn’t help himself and pressed the briefest of kiss to her cheek;

“Time to sleep now little Kitten” he muttered before reluctantly uncoupling himself from her grasp, pulling a blanket over her as she dozed on his couch. Raking his hand down his face he let out a sigh, before grabbing a glass of water and setting it onto the coffee table in front of her. A scribbled note on the back of a flyer explained that she was drunk and he wasn’t sure if she would need his help, and he didn’t want to invade her privacy of her own apartment.

Having poured himself a generous glass of vodka, August withdrew to his own bedroom, silently closing the door before stripping for bed. It was an early night but without the TV to entertain him and no desire to get lost in a book, he settled on top of the covers in just his underwear, sipping at the ice cold liquor as he willed the swelling of his loins to subside. However every time he tried to clear his mind, all he could imagine was Freya. The thought of her small body beneath his, their bodies sweaty and writhing as one. Finally with a curse he gave in to his desires, pulling his underwear down and taking his hard length into his hand, pumping dry to increase the friction as his mind descended further into taboo territory. He imagined it was her hand, calling him Daddy as she asked if she was doing it right, that her perfect lips would duck down and take his bulbous tip into her mouth, her tongue lapping at his slit as her hazel eyes would stare back up at him, wide with innocence. With a strangled cry he came in violent spurts, covering his hand and stomach in ropes of his cum, thoughts of the delicate woman in his lounge lapping at his spent seed prolonging his orgasm until he was aching and empty. With a curse he looked down at the mess he’d made, realising he needed to clean himself up.

The quiet click of his front door woke August the next morning, pushing himself up off the pillow as he heard small footsteps down the outside of the building and the quiet beep of his car being unlocked. Wondering what the hell was happening he leapt out of bed and peered out of the window, letting out a sigh of relief when he saw a dishevelled Freya gathering the wild garlic that had been scattered around his inside of his vehicle the day before.

A few minutes later the thud of his keys falling onto his doormat where she’d posted them through the letterbox sounded through his apartment, and when he went to collect them he found a small note with them;

‘Mr Walker, thank you for your help, I hope I didn't make a fool of myself last night. Your car stinks of garlic now, i’m going to walk up the creek and collect some herbs that will help reduce the odour, Freya x’

An hour later when she hadn’t returned, August set off towards the creek through the pleasant woodland, the sunlight leaving dappled patches of gold on the forest floor. Coming to the wide bend in the creek where the water was shallow, he saw the swing over the water that someone had put there years ago, mismatched ropes and a wooden seat, and how someone had now woven wildflowers into the ropes, and as he glanced upstream he saw Freya knee deep in the water, a butterfly dancing on her hand.

Something overcame him and he pulled off his boots and socks, rolling up his pants as he stepped out into the water and sat on the swing, silently watching as she charmed nature beyond a simple human’s comprehension, having control of the elements like a forest nymph. August had seen a lot of unusual things in the time he’d lived in Blackwater Lake, he knew those that had something a little special about them gravitated towards the sleepy little mountain town, so as he watched Freya make her way upstream towards him he realised there was magic in the air. Small water spouts rose from the water as she took each step, as if chasing after her touch as she stepped from rock to rock submerged under the water.

As she approached the shallow bend in the creek she finally looked up and saw August, a smile spreading over her lips;

“Hi”

“Its so pretty here, isn’t it?” she asked wistfully

“Beautiful from where i’m sitting”

She approached where he sat, stopped at arms reach, a hint of blush warming her cheeks;

“I’m sorry if I was inappropriate last night… thank you for taking care of me, i’m not a big drinker”

“You weren’t inappropriate…” he reassured her; “But it's been a while since a beautiful woman called me Daddy… since before… since before i was broken...”

Her gaze moved to the scar on the side of his face, and without a word she stepped forward and pressed her hand to the spidery scarring. In that moment August felt the magic in her touch, prickling at his skin before she nimbly climbed onto his lap, her legs wrapping around his waist and she lowered her lips to his, softly brushing against his as she spoke;

“You’re not broken, no more than I am…”

The kiss was soft and slow, and as her tongue started to gently tease at the seam of his lips she eased her weight completely onto his lap, her core pressing to his, the heat of their growing lust growing like an ember between them.

Her small tongue licked into his mouth, tasting him as she pressed her body flush to his chest, small whimpers coming from her as his hands splayed over her back and pulled her firmly down onto his growing arousal. When the need for oxygen finally took precedence August’s lips traced a path of kisses down her jaw and neck, her fingers winding through his dark curls as her head fell back to give him better access to the pale expanse of her collarbone;

“Oh Daddy…”

“That’s it my little one, i’m going to treat you so well, my little Kitten…” August’s mustache brushed against her heated skin as he spoke, the gentle sway of the swing letting their bodies move against each other.

Just at that moment an ominous creak sounded above them, drawing their attention up into the tree’s canopy, just in time to see the rope that held the swing up snap, plunging them down into the shallow creekwater below.

With shouts and screams the moment of passion was lost, taken over by the shock of the water hitting their heated skin. August helped Freya up, her dress plastered to her skin in much the same way his shirt was, soaked head to toe he shook the water from his hair;

“Home?”

“Yes Daddy” Freya purred, pulling into his touch as he wrapped an arm around her to help her out of the water.

Pushing in the door to his apartment, clothes were being pulled from each other's bodies even as the door was still ajar. As he pulled his shirt off, Freya’s hands were curling into the hair on his chest, an almost feral growl bubbling from her lips as she ran her hands down to his stomach and rested on the buckle of his belt. Catching her hands in his he held them gently, only speaking when she looked up and met his gaze;

“Kitten, I want to be sure you want this… You’re in total control here, you set the boundaries, you say when you need to stop. But if you do want this, i’ll be your Daddy and take care of you like a Princess”

Freya voice shook as she spoke;

“I want this… my last… he wanted to be my Daddy but didn’t treat me right. He took more than I could give…”

August lifted her small hands to his mouth, kissing each fingertip with such great care and tenderness her heart almost melted before she finally spoke again;

“We should really check for leeches”

“WHAT?!”

Freya had never seen anyone strip their clothing off quite as fast as August just had. For a big man - and a pretty tough one at that - the mere thought of little blood suckers had him stripping completely naked in a matter of seconds, Freya pulling her dress off a little slower until she stood in just her simple underwear. August was still patting himself down, turning to look at his behind;

“Am I ok?”

Freya couldn’t help herself, stepping forwards and taking two handfuls of August’s pert asscheeks, giving them a squeeze before running her palms over the perfectly rounded globes of his buttocks;

“More than ok”

In the following moments August carried her to his small bathroom, turning the shower on before he stepped under the warm jets of water, pulling her with him so he could soap her down. The scent of sandalwood of his soap as he carefully washed every inch of her body was overwhelming, taking care of her to wash any last traces of creek water from her body. He paused as he reached the apex of her thighs, waiting for her agreement which she quickly nodded for him to continue, his large hand sliding between her legs and caressing her lips. His skilled fingers soon sought out her pearl, teasing it gently from its hood before he slid a finger into her waiting heat, a cry falling from her lips which he quickly swallowed with a kiss. His work calloused hands quickly drove her to an orgasm - a first of many - and as she came she called his name, like a prayer on her lips.

Shutting the water off, August carefully lifted her out of the bath, wrapping a large towel around her before scooping her into his arms and carrying her to his bed. On the messy covers her hair clung to her skin, before he carefully lifted the long tendrils from her chest and was able to take in the sight of her petite naked body laying fresh and prone on his bed. Her hand reached out for him, pulling him close;

“Daddy, I want to feel you…”

August smiled;

“Will you be a good girl for me Kitten? Do you think you can take me? You’re awfully small, and I'm pretty big…”

She sat up, pressing a hand to his chest;

“Can I try? Can I go on top?”

Nodding August lay on the bed, propped up against the pillows, lifting her petite frame on top of him. He watched with pleasure as she wriggled down the bed, her hands gripping his thighs as she settled between his legs. Wrapping her small hands around his generous length she looked up at him as she started to give small licks to his hot flesh, her fingers struggling to encircle his meaty girth. Opening her mouth she took a good three inches between her lips straight away, a litany of curses falling from August’s lips as he felt the hot wet heat of her mouth engulf him. It was better than he could ever had imagined, and he had to grip at the bedsheets to stop himself from cumming at that very moment. Steadying his breathing he let out a low sigh before he reluctantly pulled her off, a trail of spittle hanging between his dick and her mouth;

“But Daddy, I want to taste your cum…”

“I know Kitten, but it's going to be a lot the first time, and I want to see your cunt dripping with me, knowing your tight little pussy is going to overflow with the amount I'm going to pump into you. Now be a good girl and see what you can do, let's make it fit…”

Straddling his thick thighs she positioned herself over his hard shaft, her hand holding him steady as she swiped him through her folds to douse his gnarled girth with her juices, before settling with the tip at her entrance. August ran his hands up and down her arms, comforting her and hoping to get her to relax. He was a patient man but the feel of her soaked flesh pressing against his crown was becoming a struggle not to grab her hips and pull her down until he was balls deep in one swift thrust.

Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, Freya slowly lowered herself onto August’s shaft, going at a pace she could cope with, but the strain of holding back caused perspiration to bead on August’s forehead;

“Doing so well Kitten… I know its a lot, but you can do it… you’re so fucking tight…. Fuck…”

Taking a deep breath Freya finally let herself fall the rest of the way, feeling him part her silken walls until she was settled on his lap. Tears fell from her eyes, tiny diamonds adorning her cheeks at the overwhelming sense of fullness she was experiencing. Seeing these August kissed them away, his praises made her swell with pride as he admitted to her he was struggling not to cum from just the feeling of her tight walls engulfing him. He pushed a hand between their bodies, resting his palm on her stomach;

“Put your hand here… you’re so tiny I can feel myself deep inside you, your little tummy blown out with my dick…”

His thumb crept down and grazed at her pearl, making her cry out before yearning for more. With his ministrations she was soon relaxed enough to start to ride him, her nimble thighs bouncing on his meaty counterparts, feeling the slick push and pull as he filled her whilst she drove them towards their peak.

Unsurprisingly Freya came first, the overwhelming pleasure that was coursing through her body was all too much to hold back, and she came with a silent scream, her body gripping August so tight it set him off, pushing in so deep he was sure his dick had kissed her cervix, before flooding her with endless ropes of his thick seed, soothing her inner core with his milky gift. Wrapping his arms around her he pulled her to his chest, holding her tight as the floods of emotions surged through her, stroking her back tenderly.

Eventually he carefully lifted her onto the bed, peppering her bare skin with bristly kisses, before parting her thighs and leaning back to admire his handiwork, a thick sheen of white covering her swollen petals. With a single finger he carefully swiped through his mess, before holding it to her mouth;

“Taste Kitten… taste our passion…”

Holding onto his wrist she sucked the digit into her mouth, her tongue tasting their combined essence. When his finger finally dropped from her lips his gaze fell down and hers followed, her eyes going wide when she saw he was hard and ready for more. Laying back she hooked her hands behind her knees and spread herself open for him;

“Daddy, will you fill me up again, please?”

Positioning himself at her cum soaked hole August smiled, a dark hint of lust glinting in his eyes;

“It would be my pleasure Kitten”

Three weeks later

Freya chewed nervously on her lip, having circled the isles of the drug store too many times to count now, waiting for a time when there was no-one near what she needed. Finally it was the right moment and she slunk into the isle, grabbing the thin rectangular box before stepping back and bumping into someone, her item tumbling to the floor as a third set of feet appeared;

“Freya! Mrs Syverson! Good Morning!”

It was Sue from the coffee shop, having appeared seemingly out of nowhere just as Mrs Syverson had backed away from the opposite shelf to keep little baby Luna from grabbing the glass bottles of antacid medicine. Mrs Syverson immediately clocked what Freya had been holding;

“Oh Freya, could you just reach those things for me? I can’t reach down with Luna here…”

With shaking hands Freya handed the bag of cotton wool balls and the pregnancy test to the woman only a couple of years her senior, who in turn smiled at Sue as she laughed;

“Sy’s always keeping me on my toes… in more ways than one” She winked before tugging on Freya’s arm; “Sweetie, I need to place an order for a big cookout we have coming up for Sy’s birthday…”

Steering her away from town gossip Sue, Mrs Syverson lowered her voice;

“I’ll meet you outside sweetie, don’t worry about it, i saw you circling the shop”

A few minutes later Mrs Syverson appeared at the door, two drugstore bags in her hand before handing one to Freya;

“My advice, tell August now, do the test together”

“Are you sure? Do you think he’ll be angry?”

“Angry? Hell no, i think it’ll be what he wants, and no matter what the result he’s always had puppy dog eyes for you, we could all tell from the moment you walked into his life”

Peering into the bag Freya saw there was also a bag of Hershey’s kisses;

“You’ll need the sugar, to calm your nerves afterwards”

“Thanks Mrs S… i appreciate it”

“No problem Freya… and i’ll see you tomorrow, i really do need to place that order, but get today over and done with first”

That afternoon Freya and August took the test, then feasted on kisses of every kind.

#august walker #august walker fanfic #august walker smut #august walker x ofc #henry cavill

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notyetneedcoffee · 4 years ago

Text

Stitches

A/N: Yep, I’ve ventured off the Marvel path and penned a few tales for The Witcher!

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Smut

The scent of rich beef roast and fresh baked bread filled the small room. Two local merchants sat at a corner table near the stone oven, arguing over the merits of silk from the south. Rulla, the inn's owner, busied herself shucking peas. The sun had not yet fallen and the town was quiet.

You sat alone, adorning the collar of woman's dress with fine silk embroidery. Falling into the rhythmic and well practiced movements, time passed without your notice. Until the door slammed open.

A wall of a man ate all the space in the doorway. His long white hair hung over his face. One arm wrapped around his middle, pressing a palm into his ribs. A leather bag hung from his other hand. "A room." His deep baritone voice carried across the room without needing much volume. "Preferably with a bath."

Rulla stood, wiping her hands on her apron. "If you have coin, I have a room with a bath."

He just grunted.

You took note of the dark stain beneath his hand. The older woman must have noticed at the same time you did. Her voice softened, and she rushed forward. "My boy, get into the first room on the right. I'll start the hot water." She turned to you. "You're needle may be of use, child."

He scowled at you. Still, you pulled the kit from your bag and walked toward him. "Come on." You sighed. "Let's take a look."

He only followed you as far as the door. You turned back. "That looks to be bleeding freely. I can stitch it up so even exertion will not open it back up. Or do Witchers heal even more miraculously than the tales say? You are a Witcher, correct?"

His chin dipped in a nod. "Geralt."

"Do you want my help or not?"

He sighed through his nose before dropping the bag inside the door. You lit the lamp beside the bed. You could smell horse and sweat wafting off him. He loomed over you as he came near. When you turned away from your sewing kit, he was pulling the soiled shirt over his head.

The grime and blood tangled in hair covering his chest could not hide the definition of the muscle beneath. Nor could it hide the map of old scars upon his flesh. A gash the length of your middle finger opened so wide you could see muscle and bone. It was not a clean cut, as if from a blade. It was torn, ugly, more like a bite or rip.

Rulla came in through the open door carrying two large buckets of steaming water. She dumped them in the tub. You pulled a few cloths from the cupboard and dipped one in the hot water. “I’ll be right back with the rest of the water,” Rulla commented. She glanced at the broad back of the man. “Be quick about it.”

You moved back to the Witcher’s side. Blood oozed between his fingers and trailed down his torso to gather at his belt. “Would you prefer to lie down?”

“Here is good. The light is better for you.” He stood near the table in the lamplight.

You sat on the edge of the bed and prepared your needle before wiping away the blood and cleaning the wound. “Do you worry about fever?”

“No.”

He didn’t flinch as you pinched the wound together pierced his flesh with the curved needle. Geralt held perfectly still, breath slow and even, as you worked. Your stitches were fine and strong. If he healed as fast as legend said, this scar would be far less noticeable than his others.

Rulla finished filling the bath and closed the door as she left.

His one arm hung loose as his side, but he held the other out away from the wound. It created tension.

“Rest your hand on my shoulder.” You spoke, but didn’t look up. “I’ll have enough room to work and your muscles will relax.”

His hand was large, warm. You could feel his intense golden eyes on you. It took effort to focus on cleanly stitching his wound. Part of you wondered if he could tell your heart raced. It should be from fear. In truth, something about his presence made you want to rub against him like a cat.

The pad of his thumb began to ghost over your skin near your collar bone. It may have been an absent-minded action. It may have been a deliberate petting. Regardless, you desperately want to feel that touch more.

You knew it was insane, not knowing him at all. Still, nearly two years had gone by since your husband’s death and the want for the touch of man grew worse every day. And here stood this large, handsome, man stroking your neck. The temptation was so great. This man would not want more than you were willing to give. Nor would this man leave you with a child.

Focus.

After a time you sat back and examined your work, fingers brushing over his warm skin. He looked down at himself. “You do good work.”

“Thank you.” Your hands paused on his abdomen, looking up at him from your seated position. “I should, um, should leave you to your bath.”

“I could use your steady hands.” His deep voice remained serious, but a playful glint filled his golden eyes.

“Oh?” You smiled. “You have other parts in need of my attention?”

“More than you know.” A small smile pulled at the corner of his mouth.

Your heartbeat quickened. As terrifying as he appeared when he entered the inn, he now exuded a raw masculine sexuality that had your mouth dry and core wet. “Then you best use that water before it cools.”

“Hmm.” Geralt agreed. He pulled at the laces of his breeches.

“Would you like help with your boots?” You smiled. “I wouldn’t want you to strain anything.”

Just the corner of his mouth twitched up before he sat on the edge of the bed and held out his right foot. He observed your every move as you removed his boots and striped him to bare feet. You knew his view would be down the front of your bodice.

He stood as you finished, taking your hand and pulling you up with him. “What is your name?”

“Y/N.”

Geralt’s fingertip drifted along your jaw to under your chin. “This is not something you normally do, is it?”

“I use my needle for wounds all the time.” You smiled, knowing that was not his meaning.

“Little dove,” He growled in a warning tone. His voice flowed over you like warm honey. “Answer me.”

“No.” You chewed your lower lip, but rested your hands on the bare skin of his waist above his belt. “But it does not make the offer insincere.”

“You’re not afraid of me?” He frowned.

“Should I be?”

“This is not the way for you to explore the ways of men and women.” He sighed, dropping his hand and standing straight.

You laughed. “Oh, that’s so sweet of you.” He glared, but you continued. “I’m not as young as I look. It’s been some time since a raider killed my husband. He and I... we had a very, ah, amorous and energetic relationship. It’s been too long, and I miss it.” You stared up into his eyes. “I would image you are an amorous and energetic sort.”

His head tilted and eyebrows rose. “True enough.”

You pulled at the loose laces of his breeches, grinning. “Bath, then.”

He stepped out of the remainder of his clothing. You could not help the delighted smile on your face at his amazing physique and already half hard cock. Tall, broad, and just huge, he showed no reserve or shame as he walked naked across the room and sunk into the warm water.

“Are you going to join me?”

“I’m clean,” You grinned. “If I get in there with you, I’ll get all mucked up.” His mouth opened to protest, but you continued. “Wash up. I’ll grab another bucket of hot water and help you rinse off.”

“Hmm.” He reached for the folded rag on the table and the soap bar. You told him to use the white bottle instead. He uncorked it an sniffed. Rosemary and mint. Pouring some onto the cloth, he began to scrub.

You returned carrying two heavy buckets of hot water. Geralt sat in the tub, skin scrubbed clean and hair wet. A light film from your favorite wash clung to him and the room smelled infinitely better. Setting the buckets down beside the tub, you told him to drain the water.

Taking up a large tankard, you poured clean water over his hair, his shoulders, trailing the water with your hands. His eyes drifted closed. A low hum of satisfaction rumbled from his chest. You smiled.

You rinsed his hair, broad shoulders, strong arms and chest. The action gave you the opportunity run your hands over him with thorough attention.

“Stand up, please.”

Geralt stood. You poured hot water over his lower back, watching it run along his strong ass and down the back of his thighs. You poured more, flowing the water with your hand. The muscles under your palm twitch and you fingertip dug in with a bit more pressure.

Dipping the tankard into the bucket once again, you looked up into his captivating golden eyes as your hand hovered over the thick trail of hair below his belly button. The corner of his mouth quirked up. You poured the water, watching it rinse clean the skin, and hair, and his magnificent cock. You hand traced along the length of him, far too gentle for his liking.

“You tease me, woman.” His hand cupped the back of your neck, pulling you forward to take possession of your mouth in a hungry kiss. Stepping out of the tub, he pulled you against his naked body, lifting practically off your toes. His teeth nipped your bottom lip. “You are wearing too much.”

His nimble fingers made short work of your laces, and eagerly pushed your gown over your shoulders where it gathered loosely at your hips. A feral growl rumbled from his chest as his hand cupped your breast. Geralt’s other hand pushed your dress passed your hips and took a hard grip on your ass. A violent shutter ran through your body as his teeth grazed your neck.

“Oh, but you are a responsive little dove.” He smiled before kissing you hard once again.

You gave a small squeak when he picked you up and tossed you onto the bed. Geralt looked you over, hungry, before coming closer. He captured your left foot and stripped it of shoe and stocking. Doing the same with the right, he placed a knee on the bed and painted a wet trail up your leg, nipping with his teeth along the way.

Your other leg fell open for him. His fingers slipped along your sex, finding you soaking wet and slick. Deftly rubbing his thumb over your clit before two fingers slipped in deep to strum against the perfect spot, you gripped the sheets and bit back a cry. It felt like heaven.

Geralt chuckled, his teeth nipping at the sensitive skin of your lower belly. “So responsive.” His tongue circled your clit and you whined. “And so sweet.” His voice rumbled against your sensitive flesh before him mouth attacked your cunt with vigor.

“Oh, fuck.” You shook, already feeling the tension building, feeling the heat gather. “Gods, yes!” Your thighs began to quiver and your hips bucked hard against Geralt’s face. He forced you down with his spare hand, his strength remarkable. The restriction pushed you further towards the edge. You gripped him by the hair. He growled, increasing the sensation. You panted. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

His fingers fucked you hard, his mouth unrelenting. Your body exploded, heat bursting forth, shaking, coming hard. He didn’t stop, growling fiercely against your clit. The rumble shaking you to the core. You writhed, uncontrollably rolling through another orgasm.

Geralt poised on all fours above you when your senses returned. A satisfied smirk turn up the corner of his sex soaked mouth. “That was fun.”

You giggled.

He stared at you a moment, studying your face. You reached up and pulled him down, kissing him long and deep. Still, he held himself above you. You needed his weight, need to be pressed into the mattress. Your fingers dug into his back, into his ass, pulling him closer. While your tongue battled his, your strong fingers wrapped around his cock.

Geralt bucked his cock into your hand, “Fuck.” His mouth left wet kissed across your neck. His weight shifted and his large hand massaged your breast, pulling at your nipple. His teeth grazed the taut bud and sucked hard. Your back arched off the bed.

“Oh gods, fuck me.” You plead, fingers digging into the broad muscles of his shoulders, pulling him close. “Want to feel the weight of you.” Your teeth nipped his ear. “Need you to fuck me hard.” Your leg lifted over his hip. “I want to feel you days after you’ve gone.”

Geralt growled. His fingers dug into the meat of your ass, his cock rubbing along your slick sex. His forehead pressed against yours, nose to nose, he breathed deep. “Don’t let me hurt you.” He practically whispered. “Say the word and I’ll stop.”

You closed your eyes and nodded, tipping your hips. “Please.”

He pressed in. The delicious stretch, the intoxicating pressure, pushed a moan from your chest. Your hips rocked against his, each stroke taking him deeper. You clung to his arms and shoulders. You tasted the skin of neck, nipping at his jaw. “Yes, more.”

Geralt rested his weight on his elbow and curled your leg up toward your chest. His cock pounded into you, rough and at a pace to steal your breath. You lost yourself to the feel, to taste and smell, of him. The rumble of his moans went straight to your core.

Heat gathered low. Everything lit up. Your legs quivered. His weight pressed you into the mattress. Your teeth bite into his shoulder. So close.

“Fuck.” He wrapped his arm under your back to hold your shoulder. Hot breath bathed your neck. His hips snapped hard and fast.

You held on, clawing at his flesh. Breath coming in pants and whines. Fire spread. Everything exploded. You came apart. “Yes!”

Geralt held you down, grinding into you, fucking you through your orgasm. His breath growled out, fingers dug into you, his hips snapped. You bit at his neck, pulled at his hair. He came with low roar.

He shifted off of you, but pulled you along to drape over the top of him. Sighing, with a deep ‘hmmm’, his fingers traced lazy circles on your back. After a time, your breath returned to normal.

You felt so good. He was warm and solid. You rubbed your face in thick hair covering his chest, first one side and then the other, breathing deep.

“What are doing?” The corner of his lip tipped up.

“You have a great chest. I love the feel.”

“No questions about the scars, but you rub in my chest hair like a cat.” He chuckled.

“Yes.” You sighed lazily. “You’re a Witcher, and I will happily listen to your tales if you wish to tell them. But that can be done in front of the hearth over a beer and a meal. This,” you wriggled even lower so his re-awakening cock became nestled between your breast and you rubbed your nose in the hair below his navel, “I am taking full advantage of right now.”

Geralt’s head dropped back, his hips rocked slowly against you. “You do that.” Your began to trail wet kisses down his belly, content, tired, but not about to miss a moment with this man in your bed. His large hand caressed your shoulder. “But don’t worry, little dove, there’s no need for me to move on for a few days. We can take our time should you wish.”

You eyes rose to meet his golden gaze. “I most definitely wish.”

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applsauss · 3 years ago

Text

Östliche Helden | I

Description: Your grin is unabashed when you hear him shouting after you.

Fandom: Hetalia

 Pairing: Human!Prussia (Gilbert Beilschmidt)/Reader

Word Count: 4k+

Warning(s): None.

Unsere Freundschaft mit der Sowjet-Union erzwingt den Frieden.

The words are printed on a sun-bleached poster featuring two working class men, one holding the red and gold banner of the Soviet Union, the other with a German flag with three stripes: one black, one red, one yellow.

“Our friendship with the Soviet Union enforces peace,” you whisper to yourself. Staring at the smiling men, trying to read into their expressions, you pick at the peeling corners of the poster, then try to smooth them down.

Behind you, through the window, the sky is aglow with a strong orange and dusty red that fades into pink. You’ve wasted the afternoon in an abandoned factory, with the small, portable radio Gilbert spent a fortune on tuned to a western station. The announcer is saying something about a concert, but you don’t hear him. The sun is setting. The wind drags its fingers through the trees.

Gilbert is sitting in the window, with one leg bent at the knee and propped up on the window sill, the other dangling against the outside of the building. He’s reading a book your brother gave to you about Frederick II, the greatest king of Prussia. You could never sit through it, but Gilbert hasn’t been able to put it down for the last two weeks.

You hum lightly to yourself as a different, tinny voice advertises some household cleaning product, and continue to observe your boyfriend. His brow is furrowed in focus, eyes scanning each page with intent, and his platinum hair is painted red by the blazing sun buzzing behind him. You can’t help but stare at him, and then past him.

The view from the window is framed by Gilbert’s body, and then by large, dark trees that inhale and exhale with the breeze. Behind the trees is a demolished industrial block, rubble left where it fell at the foot of the wall--then past that is the Berlin Wall, itself: nearly four meters tall, two thick, and with various layers of increasingly horrible deterrents running the length of the death strip. It is a grisly sight.

Behind that though, lies true innovation and freedom. Sunlight bounces off the windows of pristine West Berlin as if to say Look! Look at what is here. Look at Germans like you--but not--as they live with American autos, French wine, and Italian designer bags.

The radio announcer’s voice cuts off, and then the guitar chords of the next song fade in, plucking at all of your drifting thoughts and drawing them back tight again. It is a song of freedom, the western stations like playing it because they know it can be heard even behind the Iron Curtain. You close your eyes and let the music take you away, swaying in rhythm.

“I, I will be king,

And you, you will be queen.

Though nothing will drive them away,

We can beat them, just for one day,

We can be heroes, just for one day.”

You never listen to western radio in your house. It is silent except for when your father listens to a concert performance, or when your brother used to practice piano in the sitting room. Besides, your mother is frighteningly aware of the ears in the walls, and your father makes a point of socialising with people he suspects of being connected to the Stasi--probably in hopes of being recruited. It’s why you’ve been left alone, even after your Onkel took bolt cutters to the chain-link border fence at the Austrian-Hungarian border.

You hear your shoes scrape on the floor as you step side to side, getting more into the song, nodding your head and then you hear Gilbert snicker under his breath. You peak your eyes open to find him watching you. His book is closed, resting on the window sill, and he’s now sitting with his legs inside the building. You stop dancing, laugh, but the music continues on without you, the sound like an afterthought calling to you.

Gilbert leans forward, watching you with steady eyes, then pushes off the window sill to stand. He tilts his head for a moment, like he’s appraising the music, then begins to snap his fingers on beat, tapping his foot and bobbing his head.

You join him, shimmying, waggling your eyebrows and he snorts, then gets more into the song, shaking his hips and dramatically reaching up towards the ceiling, then closing his fist and dragging it down in front of him like the disco stars on TV.

Trying to upstage him, you click your heels together and start to do the twist, but the song’s chords are drawn out, and so the shuffling you’re doing is more for comedic effect than anything else.

You pause when you’re closest to the ground, then jerk your head up to catch Gilbert’s eyes in challenge. He lets out a breathy laugh, then changes tactics. Not one to be outdone, he throws his arms above his head and begins thrusting his hips in time with the drums, while training his expression to remain serious, smoldering, almost. You laugh.

“And you, you can be mean,

And I, I'll drink all the time,”

“ 'Cause we're lovers, and that is a fact,” he mouths the words dramatically, then winks and blows you a kiss, making you snicker again. “Yes, we're lovers, and that is that.”

Still thrusting his hips, he begins to make little hops towards you, dust from the floor kicking up around his feet. Grinning, you rise back up to both feet and meet him halfway, swinging your arms and stepping in time with the beat.

When you finally meet each other, he reaches forward, smooshing your face between his hands, then ducks down to plant a silly, solid kiss to your lips. Your teeth clack, your nose presses hard into his cheek, and he laughs into your mouth, then quiets when you kiss him back.

The music becomes less of something you hear, and more of something you feel thrumming in your heart, thrumming in Gilbert’s as it beats beneath your palm, and thrumming in the way you both sway side to side, caught up in the moment.

“Though nothing will keep us together,

We can steal time, just for one day.”

Gilbert sucks in a breath through his nose, kissing you earnestly, sincerely now, then pulls back slowly. His hands are cupping your face, thumb gently rubbing your cheek, and you’re humbled by the expression on his face, still painted in increasingly soft shades of red-pink. Affection blooms in your chest, warm like a candle, and spreads until you forget about the bite of the approaching evening. Almost overwhelmed, you pull his arms around you and lay your forehead on his shoulder, watching the West as the sun dips farther towards the horizon, as the sky begins to bleed the same red, the same damn Sowjetisch Rot, that paints their bloody flag.

You can hear him smiling in the way he breathes, feel it in the way he settles the weight of his arm over your shoulders and presses his face into your hair. You forget about school, you forget about the stress of your parents’ disapproval of Gilbert, of you, you forget about the future and you forget about the gottverdammte West. “Lieb’ dich, Liebchen,” he whispers into your hair.

The intimacy scares you. You think about pinching the soft fat on his stomach and twisting like you would a bottlecap to relieve some of the carbonated tension that’s filled the space, the tender moment buzzing around the two of you, surrounding you with its quiet intensity. The sudden thought makes you laugh, and you settle farther into his embrace instead, letting yourself sink into this feeling despite the fear for once. “Lieb’ dich, doch. You’re my favourite, you know.”

You somehow both see it coming and are taken by complete surprise when he pinches the meat of your arm and twists enough for it to smart.

“Ow-a!” You shove him off you and he stumbles back over a piece of broken furniture, snickering. You huff, dust your pants off, and try to glare at him, but you can’t bring yourself to be all that annoyed. Afterall, you chose this place and you chose him.

And the sun continues to set.

***

The morning is grey outside the apartment. It’s still early enough for the streetlamps to be on, and from under your bedroom door, you can tell the hallway light is on as well. You hear the muted clamor of breakfast coming from the kitchen, and your father coughs.

You smooth your hair back in the vanity one more time, double-checking your appearance, then grab your backpack and head out into the hall.

“You came home late last night,” your father comments from the dinner table as soon as you enter the sitting room. In front of him sits an empty plate, a mug of coffee and a half-empty glass of orange juice.

You set your bag on the table and head into the kitchen. “I know.”

“You shouldn’t ride your bike at night,” he calls after you.

“I know.”

Your mother is by the stove, wearing her sunflower print apron and black slippers. The room smells like breakfast sausage. She has her back turned to you and when you approach, she spins on her heel and pushes a full plate into your empty hands before you can do anything else.

“Ah--Guten Morgen, Muti. Vielen--” you’re caught half-way through a yawn--“Dank.”

“Good Morning, Liebling. Eat up.”

You smile and return to the table. Your father is waiting, but says nothing. He continues to say nothing as the clouds are pushed across the sky and the food on your plate disappears one bite at a time.

Eventually, he grows tired of the silence. He takes a long sip of his coffee, then says, “You were out with that boy, weren’t you.” It is not a question.

“You know his name,” you say mildly as you push your chair back and stand to take your plate into the kitchen. Your mother appears at your elbow and collects it for you instead. Without another excuse, you pull your bag across the table to check if you have everything you’ll need for school.

Still sitting where he is, your father asks, “When are you going to break up with him?”

“I’m not.”

He gives you a hard look. You pull your arms through the straps of your bag. “Is there really no one else for you?”

“I’m going to class now.”

He sighs, seemingly giving up on the conversation. “You have work after, right?”

“Right.”

Another sigh. “Alright. Be safe. See you soon.”

He drains the last of his coffee. Your mother kisses you on the cheek and tells you to have a good day as well.

“You, too. Lieb’ dich.” You turn to your father, “Bye, Vati. See you soon.”

***

Childhoods are not made equal, and the law of even-stevens is not something adults seem overly interested in. You first learned this in year three, when you were dropped off by your mother to play with a friend who lived in an apartment the size of your living room. Her bed was folded up neatly under the coffee table and the bathroom was two floors below hers. When you explained all this to your parents, they never allowed you back.

The second time you learned that adults were not as worried about being fair as they pretended to be was at Gilbert’s house, when the two of you could only play cards on his bed because his newborn brother was sleeping and anything else would have woken him. His mother made you sandwiches and when you asked about her lunch, she said she wasn’t hungry, then ate the discarded crust off your bread.

The third was when Gilbert was visiting your house, and switched on your family’s brand-new color television set. He casually flipped through the channels until he found one you’d never seen before, and you watched with confusion as image after image of the glamorous, rich, free West Germany flashed on the screen--something you’d never seen before, something he thought of as common knowledge, and something that made you begin to question what else was hidden from you. Your father catching the two of you soaking in the perverse capitalist propaganda movie ‘Grease’ was the beginning of his long-lasting feud with Your-Best-Friend-Gilbert.

The list goes on and on, your eyes not so much being opened to a single dawning realisation--but rather that realisation was inevitable, a full picture fed to you piece by piece each time you bore witness to some other lie fed to East Germans, who chew and chew and swallow because they’re so starved of everything else.

This is what you’re thinking about as Kristian goes on explaining Nietzsche to you. It’s terribly pretentious, he’s terribly pretentious, and so, regretfully, terribly, are you.

“I thought it was interesting. Didn’t you as well? What Herr Ullman was saying about the difference between Nietzsche’s master and slave morality--obviously we are the strong masters. We must not be pitied.”

Kristian is a person who never for a second thinks for, or critically, of himself. He is in your Philosophy lecture, your father knows his, and he has never once wanted for anything. The urge to fidget overcomes you, and so you grip the underside of the shop-counter, and rock back and forth on your heels to stop the annoyance from crawling up your arms.

“Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

“I asked what you thought of how Nietzsche’s ideas could be applied to our politics now.”

“Oh, well--” you pause for a moment to think about how much of yourself you’re willing to put into this conversation-- “It’s interesting how some people claim to be masters--”

“Of course!” he interrupts. “You’re brilliant--because in reality, they are not. Take here, in the DDR, for example. The majority of the working class think of themselves as masters, while holding slave moralities,” he finishes for you, incorrectly. You bite your tongue.

Sometimes, Kristian is enjoyable to be around because it’s like a game, to have a conversation with someone who refuses to hear anything you say. You like to test the limits of his perception of you and see just how far he’ll go to rationalise whatever you say so that in his head, you agree with him.

Recently though, it’s become clear that he has an interest in you that is just a little more than friendly, and casually letting him down is becoming a problem because he refuses to take a hint. Now, at Uni, every time you turn a corner, he’s there to follow you to your next class, and his forwardness is beginning to unroot whatever amusement you used to feel around him.

Kristian is another item to add to the growing list of reasons you’d rather be wasting your day watching the clouds go by than be at Uni--or be trapped behind the counter of the Apotheke you work at, begging the powers that be that Kristian leaves before your shift is up, otherwise he might get it in his head that you have free time to spend with him.

Time moves in slow motion as Kristian stands in front of the register and continues to talk. No one has come in after him so you don’t have any excuses to leave the conversation. You feel awkward, like being alone with him is a mistake that you can’t escape from because the owner of the Apotheke is out taking his lunch in the park across the street.

“We think so alike, you and I…” Kristian trails off, and then he fiddles with the soda he bought ten minutes ago, and looks away, embarrassed. “Hey,” he begins again, and at the tone of his voice, your stomach drops. Before he was just dropping hints or loosely suggesting the idea of going on a date, but this is a confrontation that you’re not prepared to deal with. “I was wondering if sometime you’d like to--”

The bell above the door trills, and you jump into action. “Ah--Willkommen! How can I help you today?” you speak loud enough to smother the end of Kristian’s question.

“Liebe,” you hear the customer say, and immediately you know that it is Gilbert. What timing! He’d taken the morning off to go see Ludy’s school play and mentioned that he might be able to swing by after running a few errands for his mother. “You’ll never guess what happened! Oh! Kristian--” he pauses-- “Hallo. Anyways, I was riding my bike down Schulstrasse after the play and I--”

“We were talking,” Kristian interrupts, whatever boyish shyness he’d had evaporating as he crosses his arms and turns to face Gilbert, almost puffing out his chest like a bird.

Gilbert gives him a funny look, then asks, “yea?” He looks to you for confirmation.

You shoot Gilbert a wobbly, unconfident smile and gesture to Kristian with wide eyes. He furrows his brow in confusion, then looks around and realizes you’re alone in the shop. He then turns his full attention to Kristian and, with fake pleasantness, asks, “how are your classes, Kristian?”

Kristian rocks back on his heels and unfolds his arm at the sudden question. “Good, I guess…” He shoots a look back at you, and you pretend to be seriously inspecting the cash register for defects. You pop open the drawer and feign counting the Deutsche Marks.

“Good!” Gilbert presses forward. “I hear Herr Ullman is a hardhead.”

“A bit,” Kristian replies, then turns his back to Gilbert and tries one last time to get your attention. “Y/N--”

At the sound of your name leaving Kristian’s mouth, Gilbert slides an arm on the counter between you and Kristian, who bites off the rest of his response and drops all pretenses to glare at Gilbert.

“Interesting,” Gilbert says flatly, “Sowieso, Schatz, when does Herr Friedman get back from his lunch?”

Kristian doesn’t wait for your response. He just huffs, snatches his drink off the counter, and stalks out of the Apotheke. The bell trills as he pulls the door open, then lets it slam shut in its frame.

“Tschussi!” Gilbert calls after him, and you really should reprimand him for that last, unnecessary taunt, but the amount of relief you feel now that Kristian is gone is ridiculous, and so you reach over the counter to grip his forearm with both hands, grinning up at him.

“Don’t be so mean,” you say half-heartedly.

Gilbert cocks his head to the side. “Then he should take a hint and listen when you tell him no.”

His genuine response surprises you when it shouldn’t. Afterall, you know what sort of man he is; you’ve known for years. It’s what kindled your crush on him in secondary school, the year before he went off for his apprenticeship in that garage he still dreams of, it’s what fanned the flames when he returned for his year of mandatory service, and it’s what stokes the love even now. “Thank you.”

“Why?” He grins. “Did you think it was awesomely sexy when I made him back off--”

You choke on a laugh, cheeks warm. “Oh, shut it! You ruin everything!”

He laughs like a witch’s cackle, and you pretend to be put out, then ask,“what were you trying to tell me about before?”

“Oh!” He straightens. “Remember that pigeon from school?”

***

“Gib can talk to birds, you know,” Ludwig says factually. ‘Gib’ is his childhood nickname for Gilbert. You nearly trip at the sudden change in topic.

“See!” Gilbert throws a hand out to gesture at Ludwig, vindicated. His other hand holds his bike steady as the three of you continue to walk down the sidewalk.

You groan. “I swear to god, the pigeon does not know you!”

“Yes he does! I’ve named him--”

“Don’t remind me--”

“His name is Gilbird.” Gilbert proudly sticks his nose up, and you resign yourself to pushing your bike in silence. You’ve had this same dispute since school. Gilbert is convinced that since he saved a pigeon from a hungry alleycat one time, it now owes him some sort of life debt, or at least he thinks the pigeon thinks that.

“I think it’s clever,” Ludwig says quietly, squeezing the straps of his backpack tighter in his hands as he continues to walk beside you and Gilbert, who are pushing your bikes to keep pace with him.

“Ludy,” you stage whisper just loud enough so Gilbert can still hear you, like you’re sharing some grave secret, “he’s been saying the same thing since year five. I don’t even think it’s the same bird!”

“Schatz!” Gilbert cries, outraged.

You roll your eyes dramatically. “C’mon,” you say, and goad Ludwig into jogging ahead of Gilbert with you. As much as Ludwig hero-worships his elder brother, he also can’t resist the temptation of teasing him, especially when you offer him the upper hand.

“Ah!” Gilbert exclaims once he realizes your plan. “Hey!” When you pass him, you stick your foot out to unhinge his kickstand, making him stumble over his bike.

“I’m too awesome to not be telling the truth!” he calls after you. “You were there! Hey!”

Ludwig laughs out loud, and so you turn around as well, only to see Gilbert struggling to untangle his handlebars from a bush. “Quickly!”

You swing your leg over the seat of your bike, then usher Ludwig into the basket fixed over the rear wheel. It’s not meant for a person and is an uncomfortable fit, even for little Ludy, but the two of you manage.

“That’s cheating!” Gilbert calls out sorely, still a little ways behind the two of you, though you know he’ll catch up in no time. Ludwig giggles right in your ear, and then you push off the concrete and begin pedaling down the sidewalk.

“Look at him, all the way back there,” Ludwig teases.

You can’t turn around to bask in your victory, you’re afraid to lose balance and throw Ludwig off the bike. “Is he still stuck?”

“Yes--No! He’s just freed himself! Schneller! Faster!” Ludwig leans more of his weight forward, onto your back, and you laugh breathlessly, then pedal harder. You take the curb hard, pushing yourself off the seat to absorb the shock of your front wheel dropping onto the asphalt, then the rear wheel squeaks in protest under Ludwig’s added weight.

From around the wide bend of the road, you see the young trees that are planted in front of Gilbert and Ludwig’s Plattenbau, the tall apartment building looming over the road like a victory line. Your thighs begin to burn under the exercise. You pant, and Ludwig squeezes your shoulders tighter. “Oh no!” he cries.

Then it’s over. “Ha ha!” Gilbert tuts victoriously as he flies past the two of you, legs stuck out in a silly pose as his gears rapidly click.

“Aw! That’s no fair, Gib! Y/N has me on the bike, too!” Ludwig defends you from over your shoulder.

“You should have thought about that before you two unawesomely conspired to push me into that bush!”

“We didn’t push you! You tripped!” You slow to a stop in front of the side entrance next to Gilbert, and wobble under yours and Ludwig’s combined weight. Gilbert drops his bike in the grass and moves to help Ludwig down from his perch on the basket.

Gilbert rolls his eyes. “Same thing.” He sets Ludwig on the ground, then adds with fake scorn, “cheaters.”

Ludwig laughs, and you inspect your backpack, which Ludwig had been crouched on for the duration of the short ride. “Do you go to work now, Gib?” he asks.

“Ja. But I’ll be back like normal.” You look up in time to see Gilbert messing with Ludwig’s hair. You feel a pang of jealousy, thinking of your own brothers.

“Okay.” Ludwig walks to the entrance, then pulls open the door. “See you later!”

“Bye!”

“Bye, Luddy!”

For a moment, the two of you just breathe the filthy air. This part of town always stinks like a car’s exhaust pipe. Then Gilbert looks back at you. “Race you to your house?”

You eye him critically for a moment, then turn your bike around and begin pedaling as fast as you can without so much as waiting for a fair start.

Your grin is unabashed when you hear him shouting after you.

***

Translations:

Unsere Freundschaft mit der Sowjet-Union erzwingt den Frieden. Our friendship with the Soviet Union enforces peace. From this 1979 propaganda poster.

Deutsche Demokratische Republik. DDR. German Democratic Republic. Abbreviated ‘GDR’ in english. The official name of ‘East Germany’.

Onkel. Uncle.

Sowjetisch Rot. Soviet Red, referring to the Soviet Union’s flag colour.

Gottverdammte. Goddamn (f).

Lieb’ dich. Love you (slang, not proper grammar).

Liebchen. Sweetheart, lovely (noun). Term of endearment. (Literally: little love, love I am fond of, the -chen is diminutive and cute).

Doch. Too, totally, all the same, nevertheless. This is a ridiculous german word.

O-Saft. Orange Juice (slang).

Guten Morgen. Good morning

Muti. Mom.

Vielen Dank. Thank you very much.

Liebling. See Liebchen, though this is a more common version.

Vati. Dad.

Apotheke. Drug store, pharmacy.

Willkommen. Welcome.

Liebe. Love.

Hallo. Hello, Hi.

Deutsche Marks. Mark der DDR. Currency of the GDR.

Sowieso. Anyways.

Schatz. Babe, baby. Term of endearment. (Literally: Treasure)

Tschussi. Bye-bye, toodles. Cute with children, though usually used sarcastically by adults, especially men. (Gilbert is making fun of Kristian here)

Schneller! Faster!

Plattenbau. A cheap style of building made from prefabricated concrete slabs common in the GDR. (Literally: Panel building)

Masterlist | Posting Schedule

#hetalia #aph #aph prussia #hetalia x reader #aph prussia x reader #aph prussia imagine #hetalia imagine #aph imagine #aph x reader

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pregnant-piggy · 4 years ago

Text

A little elf

Ron Weasley x reader

This is part of All I want for Christmas is fanfiction

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: pregnancy, slight mention of abortion

A/N: I’m back with a pregnancy-fic (gotta be true to my url in some way). This fic is all support and Ron’s soft and protective side

As the skies grew more pale outside, the rain and wind of the autumn made place for the cold and ice of the winter. Grass turned dry and died out, leafs had fallen of the trees and froze overnight. Icicles hung from the corners of buildings if it had frozen and the roads were getting slippery.

The shops had taken out their Christmas decorations and red and green adorned the streets. Fairy lights had been hung in trees and gardens flickered at night with colours shows in the shape of reindeers and fat Santa’s. At some houses Christmas trees were already standing in living rooms and cringe texts hung behind windows. Children dressed as angels went past streets, singing Christmas carols to whoever passed.

Normally you loved to walk outside at night and look at all the decorations. Countless of rounds you had made around the block with Ron every December. You knew which houses did what for Christmas, which ones were the first to put up the tree and which families always forgot and then put up the lights on Christmas Eve.

However, tonight none of the decorations were noticed by you as you walked home. With your hands in gloves in your pockets and your scarf tightly around your neck, you walked as slow and fast as possible; wanting to get home as fast as possible yet not wanting to get there at all.

Faint carols reached your ears as you turned around the corner to the street of your house. Halfway on the street stood the choir you hadn’t seen yet this December. You had gotten to know the leader a few years ago and feared you wouldn’t get out of a conversation when you walked by.

You took a halt in front of the choir and listened to the children together with some of your neighbours. Mrs and Mr Sanchez, the couple that lived next door, stood listening happily with their arms around each other. You watched them for a while as the choir sang ‘O Holy Night’.

And indeed as you had thought, the leader of the choir, Francis, walked over to you after she had told the children to continue to sing.

‘Hey, y/n, long time no see!’ Francis happily said.

‘Hello, Francis,’ you nodded. You weren’t exactly feeling as ‘jolly’ as one might be in such a scene, but you conjured a smile on your face for the woman in front of you. ‘How are you?’

‘Busy, busy, busy,’ Francis said. ‘We are booked full for December. I don’t think I have a day off. But that doesn’t matter!’ she quickly added. ‘I enjoy working with these children so much. I believe they truly are my Christmas miracle!’

A bit more genuine smile came to your face. Francis was someone who was grateful for everything that was going on in her life. She enjoyed every second of her life and made sure she did plenty of things that she could look back at when she was old and grey and stuck in a chair at a retirement home. You loved to listen to Francis’ enthusiasm. Though you didn’t see her very often, because she was indeed always busy, the times you did see her you always were happy.

‘Is Ron not here? You usually come together,’ Francis noticed and the smile fell off your face.

‘He was busy,’ you lied, putting the fake smile back on your lips. You glanced around. ‘Are you coming back here?’ you asked, hoping to change the subject.

‘One more time, on Christmas Eve,’ Francis said.

‘I’ll make sure to come and bring you some snacks.’

‘They would love that,’ Francis sighed. One of the children signed for her and she had to leave you alone. ‘I’ll talk to you soon, y/n.’

‘See you soon.’ Francis went back to the choir and you turned around and walked to your house.

The light in the kitchen was on and a yellowish glow shone on the bare bushes in your little front yard. In the spring and summer they would be full with flowers and green leafs, but in the autumn and winter they lost their beauty.

Taking a deep breath you put your key in the lock and opened the door. The hall was dark and the door to the kitchen closed, only a stripe of light coming from the crack between the door and the floor. When you closed the front door behind you and put on the light, something dropped in the kitchen and a moment later the door was opened to reveal Ron.

He was wearing the apron you had gotten from your great aunt, one with little flowers and bees. His cheeks were red and there was a smudge of flour on one of them. The red locks that needed a haircut, though you actually liked it better like this, were standing in all ways, like it looked when he woke from a rough night. On his lips played a relaxed smile, that soon dropped as he noticed your tense state and worried eyes.

‘What’s the matter, sweetheart?’ he asked and quickly walked over to you to help you take of your coat.

While he turned around to the coat rack, you answered. ‘I’m pregnant.’

Ron dropped your coat on the floor and he spun around. His eyes were big and his jaw dropped. He stared at you for a second, before a big grin formed on his face.

‘That’s amazing! You’re pregnant? We’re gonna have a baby?’

‘No, it’s not! We aren’t prepared! There’s no room in our lives for a baby! What about our jobs? And our friends? We can’t just come over with a baby! Our lives would change so much!’

Ron took your hands and tried to look you in the eye, but you kept your gaze at the ground. He pulled you in an embrace and a tear escaped your eye. His hand rubbed soothing circles on your back and his lips were pressed against the top of your head.

Ron brought you to the kitchen and sat you down on a chair. He turned the stove off and gave you a glass of water before he took place opposite of you. He waited until you had drank the water and then took your hand over the table, forcing you to look him in the eye.

‘Listen, I am not forcing you to have this baby. It is your body and your decision and I am no one to change that. But I also want you to realise that this could be a good thing. Can you imagine how our lives would be if we had a little one running around? A happy baby, part you, part me. And it won’t be so difficult with jobs, you could even just keep yours the way it is now if you want. I won’t mind working less, I actually was thinking of already doing so. It is scary, but we will make it work.’

Ron squeezed your hand and you chuckled softly while the tears were streaming down your face. Ron got up from his chair and sat down in his knees in front of you. He wiped away the tears from your face and pressed a kiss to both your hands.

‘I am not asking you to make a decision right now, sweetheart,’ he said. ‘But just think about it. I will be happy with whatever you decide, as long as I am with you.’

You smiled tilting your head as you watched Ron get up and continue with dinner. His words had put your mind to work, but you pushed it aside for now, feeling that your emotions would influence the decision.

For the rest of the evening you talked with Ron about other things. You told him about Francis and the choir and he talked about his work and the new invention George had made. Of course you couldn’t just forget you were pregnant, but you just didn’t pay much attention to it and you noticed neither did Ron.

A part of you felt guilty for the burden you had placed on his shoulders. He had seemed so excited when you told him you were pregnant and the look on his face when you told him that you weren’t ready was still fresh in your mind.

Ron had sensed how you were feeling, like he always could. At night as you lied in the dark in bed, his hand took yours and he gave a little squeeze.

‘Don’t feel guilty, sweets,’ he said. ‘I am happy with or without a baby. Really. I support you whatever you decide.’

‘Thank you,’ you said with a hoarse voice. ‘I love you.’

‘I love you more.’

}|}{|}{|{

For a few days you and Ron didn’t talk about it. You both just went your normal ways, doing what you normally did. But that didn’t mean that you didn’t think about it. In contrary, it was all you could think about. You tried not to show it too much to Ron, but you knew he noticed. He was a little more gentle towards you, making sure there wasn’t anything to worry about at home or making sure you were comfortable.

Those days you barely slept. You ate little and felt nauseous with every smell. You were always cold, but whenever you put on a jumper you were hot. Your lips were cracked and your eyes dull. Your skin was breaking out and with every hand that you brushed through you hair, you pulled along hairs.

On the fourth day of all this, you had called in sick from work. After you had reassured Ron that you would be fine on your own and that he could just go to work, you were alone for the first time in a week.

Your plan was to just stay in bed all day, but an hour or so after Ron left you got antsy and wanted to do something. Your bed was uncomfortable and warm and you couldn’t lie in it for another second anymore. So you shuffled downstairs in a pair or leggings and one of Ron’s jumpers. You made some breakfast for yourself and after that sat in the living room staring at the TV for a while.

If you had watched TV the whole time or had fallen asleep, you didn’t know, but around lunch time you startled awake. You turned off the TV and decided to go for a walk.

It was snowing outside and the world glistened with little crystals. It wasn’t so cold that the streets were slippery; the snowflakes only lied on the ground for a second before they melted. Soon your hair was wet from the snow and your cheeks cold, but you didn’t mind. The cold, fresh air did you good.

In the park close to your house you sat down on a bench and watched the people around you. There was an elderly couple walking arm in arm with each other. Two businessmen sat on a bench not far from you. They were talking about something you didn’t understand and you frankly didn’t care about.

The park was fairly empty for the time of the day. Normally it was full of people that would take a little stroll at lunch time, especially in the holiday month. But today it was empty and you liked it so.

You sat on the bench for a while, just staring ahead of you, until you were started by a woman with a stroller.

‘Can I sit here?’ she asked and you nodded at her. The woman flashed you a smile and sat down next to you, turning the stroller around so the child in it was facing whom you assumed to be their mother.

You paid little attention to the people next to you. Or at least you tried to. The mother had started to talk to the baby while giving them little bites from a piece of bread. The baby giggled when the woman started to make funny faces and you couldn’t help but smile.

The baby looked at you, when their mother turned to take something from her bag, and made grabbing hands to you. You chuckled and stuck out your tongue to the child. They copied you and chirred with excitement.

‘She seems to like you. Usually she’s not like that with strangers,’ the woman said when she turned back. ‘Do you have kids?’

‘Uh, no…’ you said and flashed the woman a quick smile.

‘I’m not judging you!’ the mother said quickly. ‘It’s just usually mothers who make her feel comfortable. Maybe you just have a special talent.’

You laughed and shook your head. ‘No, I don’t think that is it.’

‘Well, at least you made her happy,’ the woman said while she got up. ‘It was nice to meet you.’

‘You too,’ you said and smiled at the mother and waved at the baby. You watched them walk away and then got up yourself. With renewed confidence you walked home and for the first time since you had heard that you were pregnant, you felt happy.

}|}{|}{|{

That evening you had taken a hot bath, soaking off all the negativity you had been holding for the past days. You were standing in front of the mirror in your underwear and stared at your belly. Your finger was tracing your skin lightly, as if you were tickling the baby that was growing inside of you.

‘Sweets? Where are you?’ Ron yelled from downstairs as soon as the door had shut behind him.

‘Up here,’ you said with a distant voice as you kept staring at your mirror image.

Loud and fast footsteps were heard on the stairs and Ron came bursting into the bedroom. Worry stood on his face and he was panting lightly. You looked up confused to him.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked and the anxiety left his face as you nodded. ‘Why are you standing there?’

You shrugged as you looked at yourself in the mirror. Your hand had dropped from your stomach and was now hanging along your body. Ron took of his coat and stood behind you. He rested his cold hands on your shoulders and you hissed.

‘Oh, sorry,’ he muttered but when he tried to take his hands away you kept them there.

You looked at Ron through the mirror and smiled at him. ‘I made a decision.’

Ron froze and you turned around so you could look at him. He looked at you with big eyes and you took his hands, placing them around your waist. You wrapped your arms around his neck.

‘We’re having a baby,’ you whispered softly.

Ron stared and after a few seconds swallowed. ‘We’re having a baby?’

You nodded and giggled at Ron’s anxious face. He started to smile and pulled you close against his chest. His hands on your back were cold and his cheek in your neck too, but you held onto him. For minutes you stood like that, until Ron turned you back to the mirror and wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, resting his hands on your lower-stomach. His touch sent shivers down your spine and sparkles through your veins.

‘We’re gonna be parents,’ you said.

‘We’re gonna be the best parents,’ Ron said.

- - - - - -

Taglist:

General HP: @kitkatkl @girllety @yuptha-tsme @sleep-i-ness @iamak20 @thefuturelawyer @weasleydream @missmulti @deafgirltingz @moonstarrnghtsky @mytreec @lilulo-12fanfiction @emmaloo21 @kashishwrites @ananad1 @figlia--della--luna @kylosleftbuttcheek @mrs-malfoy-always @thefandomplace @magicwithaknife @mt2413 @aesthetically-hailey @superbturtlemakerathlete @the-natureofme @missswriter

MASTERLIST

#all i want for christmas is fanfiction #ron weasley x reader #ron weasley imagine #ron weasley #harry potter #tw pregnancy #pregnancy

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literate-lamb · 4 years ago

Text

sneak peek | b.barnes

Bucky Barnes/fem! Reader | 18+

Coming home to an unexpected, but not unwelcomed surprise was not on Steve's to-do list.

warnings(!): voyeurism, vaginal sex, oral sex (f & m receiving), masturbation, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, facials

The night was tiring.

Steve sighed as he took off his boots. Another day, another world needed saving. It’s been nonstop back-to-back missions for him and some of the team.

After a shower at the compound, he went straight back to his and Bucky’s apartment in Brooklyn, wanting to sleep until the next day. Bucky and him decided to get an apartment in Brooklyn after Bucky’s return from Wakanda. They thought the familiarity of an environment could do the soldier some good, and they missed the feel of normalcy, away from the crime fighting.

Steve noticed an extra pair of shoes in the threshold. Female shoes. A pair of red heels parked by Bucky’s boots. You must be with Bucky tonight, keeping him company while he was on a mission.

Steve smiled at the thought, happy that his friend had found someone that cares for and accepts him. But Steve can’t deny, that pang of jealousy, the loneliness and longing he feels when he sees the two of you together. Deep down, he wished it was him who you met first. If you could love Bucky with all his issues, then you could’ve loved another super soldier with his frozen baggage.

He mentally shook his head. It’s no good to have such thoughts, what he can do is to be happy for them.

As he was about to pass Bucky’s door in the hall, he paused. Whimpers could be heard. Puzzled, he turned towards the door, finding a slight gap. It wasn’t closed properly.

Curious, Steve took a peek. The sight that greeted him was not what he had in mind.

At the foot of the bed, there you were, head bobbing as you took in Bucky’s cock at a hungry speed. Saliva dribbled down the side of your lips as you tried to take Bucky’s large girth, the unreachable length you made up with the motions of your fist.

Bucky was behind you, his large palms gripping your hips while his mouth worked wonders in bringing you pleasure. Steve couldn’t see much, but he was sure Bucky’s tongue was sinfully dancing on your lower lips, fucking your hole and sucking your clit at intervals. The thought of it made him feel hot.

Between your licking, you would moan when Bucky’s ministrations got quicker, suckling noises filling the room.

“B-Bucky! Ah!”

Steve tried to avert his eyes, but it was as if he was transfixed, and you were the enchantress. Stumbling on his best friend with his girl was the last thing he expected to happen after work.

“You like that, doll? Wait until I fuck this pussy, you’ll be begging for it,” Bucky teased, laying his flat tongue, licking a stripe from your clit to your core.

This caused a stutter in your movements. You tried to continue licking him but the pleasure was too much, before he stopped. Bucky smacked your cheeks, causing a delicious sting.

“On your hands and knees,” he growled.

You obliged, getting off him. Bucky took his place behind you, his hands on your cheeks, kneading the flesh. With his metal fingers, he teased your sensitive clit and gathered some of the slick, pushing it into your hole. He started pleasuring you with his fingers, adding digits and increasing the speed as he went. This caused your thighs to quiver. Your breathy moans music to Steve’s ears.

“Such a slut, already so wet,” Bucky groaned, “Cunt so greedy for cock.”

Steve didn’t expect something so filthy could come out of best friend’s mouth. He could feel his pants getting tighter as he continued to peek. Struggling with his inner conscience, Steve began unbuttoning his pants. He sighed in relief when he undid the fly, releasing pressure.

Bucky removed his metal digits. Feeling mischievous, he slid his cock over your lower lips, tapping them a few times to tease you. He chuckled when you grunted, impatient. Gathering your slick, he began to ease into you slowly, inch by inch, adjusting until he was buried to the hilt. Finally, your wish was granted.

“So fucking tight,” Bucky grunted.

He started thrusting into you slowly, hands on your hips, leaving bruising prints that would take days to fade. Your moans started getting louder, reverberating, as his long thrusts picked up pace. Your arms began to fail as you held onto the sheets. He kept thrusting in the same spot that made your toes curl, eyes rolling back from pleasure. The sight was a glorious work of art for Steve Rogers.

Before he realized it, Steve slid down his briefs, letting his aching cock touch air. He hissed when he engulfed his shaft with his hand. Slowly, with tandem to Bucky’s thrusts, he began moving.

“Wanna see you work those hips, baby.”

With a whine from you, Bucky changed positions. He laid on his back, rearranging your legs, one hand holding his member while the other held your hip as you hovered over him. Slowly, he brought you down, entering your tight heat. You wiggled a bit to adjust, back facing him. Feeling slightly mischievous, you rocked your hips slowly, teasing Bucky with the slow pace.

“None of that, doll,” Bucky growled, squeezing your cheek, pulling them apart and watching your puckered asshole. “Maybe someday, but for now...”

With a snap of his hips, you fell back. Back a few inches off his chest, hands backwards gripping the sheets, and thighs spread apart, revealing your glistening cunt penetrated by Bucky’s wide girth. Steve salivated at the sight, squeezing his length.

Bucky began moving, holding your waist tight as he snapped his hips, fucking your core from below. The sound of flesh hitting flesh reverberated throughout the room, mixing with grunts and moans. As Bucky continued spearing you, his flesh hand slowly travelled downwards finding your clit. He began rubbing your bud, the ministrations paired with his fast pounding left you in a frenzy, leaving you moaning louder.

“Ah! Ah! Bucky, no! Ah.”

This was a symphony to Steve’s ears. Your moans excited him, pushing him to stroke faster. Eyes fixated on your abused cunt, he envisioned it was his cock you were bouncing on. His cock that your tight velvet heat was clenching. Your lips moaning his name.

As Bucky quickened his pace, your moans became incoherent, feeling your moment building. A few hard thrusts and you climaxed, arms giving out, thighs quivering as ecstasy decorated your face. Bucky stilled, holding your frame as he followed suit, filling you with his warm seed. Some dribbled out onto the sheets as you both were lost in your highs.

Steve knew Bucky wasn’t quite done yet. He was getting hard inside of you again and judging by his face, he was waiting to have another go at it. Steve was still stroking as he observed your blissed out expression, unaware of the spectator.

Without caution, Bucky flipped you onto your back, startling you.

“Sorry doll, but I’m not done with you yet.”

Rubbing your lower lips, he began entering you again, burying until the hilt. He groaned, head thrown back as he relinquished in your tightness. The feeling was overwhelming, you found yourself curling off the bed as he thrusted into you repeatedly. Head thrashing from the pleasure. The springs of the bed adding to the symphony of moans.

His hands wandered to your chest, grabbing each breast in one hand. Squeezing and pinching your hardening nubs as he fucked you relentlessly.

“Look into my eyes, doll,” Bucky grunted, “Look into my eyes and tell me, where do you want my cum?”

Piercing blues met yours, hooded by lust. The overstimulation was making you delirious, you couldn’t focus.

“In my mouth,” you whined, “Please.”

Your answer fuelled not only Bucky, but Steve as well as they quickened their pace. Bucky’s thrust was almost bruising as he began to chase that climax. While Steve’s strokes hastened at the thought of flooding your mouth.

With one final thrust, Bucky removed himself from you, moving over your chest and pointing his tip towards your gaping mouth.

“Open wide, baby.”

Ropes of his cum flew into your mouth, some missing its target and covered your cheeks. By the end, your face was decorated in his fluids, painting a picture. It drove Steve mad.

Clenching his eyes, Steve imagined you holding your tongue out, awaiting for your fill. Eyes wide, begging. At last, he came. Cum oozing and dribbling as he continued pumping through the bliss. Some dripped onto the floor. He bit his lips, feared getting caught in the shadows. Steve felt filthy, but he was sated.

“Come on, doll, clean my cock.”

Still coming down from his high, Steve peeked in. You were suckling on Bucky’s length, tongue swirling as you cleaned for any residue. When you were done, you stuck out your tongue, showing Bucky you were finished, not a trace left.

“Good girl,” Bucky praised, stroking your cheek.

Steve realized he needed tissues.

The honking of cars and yells of kids signified a normal morning in Brooklyn. Warm rays filtered through the windows, basking him in heat. Steve awoke with a groan, rubbing the crusts from his eyes.

It was probably mid-morning, Steve groaned at the thought of missing his run. Suddenly remembering the incident made him flush, last night’s spectacle tired him out more than he imagined.

Leaving the bed, he showered and dressed up, ready for a day of lounging around. When he reached the kitchen, the scent and sizzle of bacon welcomed him.

“Good morning, Steve.”

You surprised him. There you stood, in front of the stove, decked in an apron with a smile on your face, greeting him. It was something akin to what he imagined a morning routine from the 40’s would be like. His heart bumped at the thought.

“Didn’t know you were home,” you said, plating the strips, “When did you come back?”

He watched as you cracked the eggs onto the pan, thinking longer than necessary.

“I got back last night, actually,” he replied, taking a seat, “The mission was exhausting, I passed out as soon as I arrived.” It wasn’t a lie, he was technically bending the truth.

“In that case, let’s celebrate with some breakfast!” you cheered, bringing him a plate. Your smile was infectious, he can’t help but return it.

As you set breakfast down, Bucky came in, fresh and clean-shaven. His eyes crinkled, surprised to see Steve at the table.

“Punk,” he ruffled Steve’s locks, messing it.

“Jerk,” Steve retaliated, punching his arm, “Good to see ya.”

“Likewise,” Bucky replied, before turning to you, “Morning, doll.”

You both shared a kiss. Steve couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy, even as small as it is. He tore his eyes away, to not get caught staring.

“I gotta go,” you murmured, in Bucky’s hold.

“You can’t stay for a bit?” Bucky pleaded, giving you his puppy dog eyes.

“I already overstayed,” you chuckled, “and besides, you got Steve back.”

You gave Bucky another peck as a farewell, untying the apron. You passed by Steve, giving him a pat on the shoulder. But before you could leave, you froze.

“Oh, Steve?” you lilted, eyes glinting.

Steve looks at you, startled. Your slight change in demeanour reminded him of last night. You levelled with his ear before whispering.

“You’re welcomed to join anytime.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #marvel fanfiction #steve rogers

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thatslikely · 4 years ago

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Frosting On Your Nose - R.W.

Frosting On Your Nose- Ron Weasley x fem!reader

Warnings: marriage (to Ron), mentions of having a kid, food.

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: this has been an idea of mine forver, here it is. writing for ron is actually kinda fun! i’ve been feeling really bad about my writing lately, so I’m glad at least to churn something out. also I renamed Ron’s son because Hugo is not it

Taglist: @amourtentiaa @probably-peeves @anchoeritic @theweasleytwinsgirl

if you want to be added, send me an ask or dm!

“I can’t believe our Benny’s already turning one year old! Feels like he was born just yesterday, doesn’t it, love?” Ron asked you from across the messy, crumb-coated kitchen, his chiseled hands steadily whisking a muckle of creamy, vanilla frosting in a bowl.

“Time really does fly when you’re having fun, I suppose,” you replied while carefully selecting a fistful of small food dye vials of various shades of the rainbow. The blank, white frosting will soon brilliantly decorate the rich chocolate cake cooling on the windowsill, basking in the sun’s lazy, late-afternoon rays.

Silence soon rose into the bright, cozy room like the soothing morning tide of the sea, calm and comfortable. Ron continued to rhythmically stir the batch of uncolored frosting while you had moved on to preparing various crystalline piping bags, selectively choosing each fine metal tip.

Inexorably, Ron soon removed the metal whisk from the bowl, long, red tongue out and ready to kitten-lick some of the deliciously sweet frosting off the whisk’s wired loops. “Ronnie, you better not be eating any of that frosting! It’s for Benny’s cake, remember,” you smoothly reminded the sweet-toothed redhead opposite you, not even needing to gaze at him to know what he had planned.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” Ron denied innocently, placing the whisk back into the bowl inconspicuously. You ambled over to the tall ginger for a quick progress check, pleased to see that the frosting was now mixed to perfection, its texture silky smooth and ready for piping. You swiped your finger on the rim of the bowl, accumulating a dollop of the fluffy cream, before nonchalantly sticking it into your mouth with a pop. “Hey! You can have frosting, but I can’t, huh? That’s not fair.”

“Life’s not fair, Ronnie-kins. But I’ll let you have all the leftovers after the cake is done, deal?”

“Fine,” - he grumbled - “deal. Now what colours are we gonna frost this mouth-watering cake?”

Countless rough sketches and outlines of adorable cakes filled the smudged papers of your notebook, the same one you doodled in since your Hogwarts days. You gingerly handed Ron the dog-eared bundle of bound papers, pointing at your favorite sketches and concepts, most of which included bright colours and childish smiley faces galore. The final design of the soon-to-be Benny’s first birthday cake was circular and slathered in white frosting, dotted with yellow and orange suns wearing wide-mouthed grins, which popped against frosted sky-blue ribbons. Little spherical sprinkles added miniature bursts of colour to the central letters of the cake which read, “Happy First Birthday Benny!” in flawless, fluid cursive writing.

“Wow, I didn’t know you had such a knack for drawing, sweetheart. Benny’s cake’ll look amazing, as long as you’re the one doing all those tiny details.”

“You’re not that bad at sketching yourself. We’ll pipe it together, but I’ll be sure to do the lettering. Don’t think I didn’t see your awful handwriting back on all your old Divination homework.”

“It was only that bad because I hated the class! It always smelled like old-lady perfume and Trelawney was a nutter!”

“She was better than Snape, at least.”

Ron gave you a concurring nod, his unkempt mop of ginger hair fluffing up and down with the movement. You suppressed a giggle at his charming, goofy grin you’d come to love before squeezing droplets of brilliantly-coloured food dye into the small basins of peaked, milky-white frosting.

Ron gently clamped his large, vermillion-freckled hand over yours’, guiding your wrist in circular stirring motions to tint the heaps of icing. Ron’s chin rested on the crown of your head, his warm breath blowing strands of your hair to obscure your gorgeous, light-catching eyes. You paid no attention to the falling tresses of hair, instead you absorbed the familiar sensation of being held in Ron’s delicate arms; the knits and stitches of his homemade maroon sweater caressed your skin.

Once the pigmented frosting was tightly wrapped in the metal-tipped piping bags, you daubed a thin crumb-coat onto the layered cake. When the coat had settled, cementing the loose specks of brown to the sponge, you smoothed on another layer of frosting, this time making it a silky, uncreased layer.

Soon enough, Ron was concentratedly piping an (uneven) border of blue around the base of the cake. Even though his strokes of frosting were messy, you admired his effort. His effort that was made quite prominent by the tip of his tongue poking out from his soft lips in focus, his minimally-blinking blue eyes glued to the slowly revolving cake.

“Honey, you did a splendid job. I’m so proud of you.” You pulled in a triumphant Ron for a tight, loving hug, twirling your fingers through his messy ginger hair. You were quick to notice little ivory specks of frosting was strewn through his fluffy locks. “How’d you manage to get frosting in your hair, silly?”

“It’s just part of the process of being a great baker, I guess.”

You both let out airy chuckles, your faces inching closer and closer. He finally pulled you by the hem of your apron into a sloppy, languid kiss, each succumbing to the familiar sensations of each other’s lips. The sensation you felt all those years ago after he confessed his love for you on a chilly night at Hogwarts, the sensation you felt dressed in a stunning sea of white on the day of your wedding, the sensation of his lips after looking at your son for the first time.

In quite a few minutes, after lingering kisses and tear-jerking memories came and went, you were back in the present, the clocks still ticking forward, finishing up the piping. You trimmed the sponge with varicoloured stripes and ribbons, meticulously spacing them out to perfection.

After the last pinch of beads of sprinkles fell atop the cake like bittersweet summer rain, the cake was finally complete. It looked adorable, exactly like the baked goods that would be proudly displayed in the window of a bakery. Ron gave you a goofy high five (which was commonplace) in celebration; after your hands smacked together, he wrapped his fingers around your palm, your hand dwarfed by his’.

“You did a wonderful job, love. Everyone at his party’ll be dying to try a slice!” he praised, pulling you to his chest for a hug.

You pulled back to glance up at his handsome face with doe eyes, his features illuminated by the golden, waning sunlight. Before you could give him a sweet reply and subsequent peck on his lips, he stated with a laugh, “Y/N, you have frosting on your nose.”

You retracted your hand from his sweater-clad chest, dipping your pointer finger into the leftover stash of glistening frosting before briskly smudging a streak of white across Ron’s sun-freckled nose, teasing, “now you do, too.”

“Oh, you’re in for it now!” Ron exclaimed mischievously, coating his hands into the bowl of sugary fluff, desperately attempting to slather your nose in white further. As the sunlight gradually faded away, and the moon elusively bathed your quaint house in pale beams, the evening was pin-drop silent and peaceful, except for the light, scampering footsteps and fearful giggling of you and your doting husband.

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jarofstyles · 4 years ago

Text

Fan Club VI

A/N: After the emotional turmoil part 5 caused, here is some sweet sweet redemption from Mr. Styles. One part left to go after this!! - n + d

send feedback and requests here

masterlist

pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

warnings: smut, drug use (weed)

word count: 15k

It was good. The whole thing was going spectacularly well and Harry couldn’t be happier. Y/N had gotten him out of his shell a little bit and while it had only been a little while, he was adjusting very well with being with Y/N for real. In fact, he got quite clingy. He was nearing in on thinking he may love her. His Aquarius side made him double back and check but every sign was there. So he made an effort to do much more than what was asked of them. He had her over a lot, and visited her at the bakery nearly every morning for coffee, and he texted her all the time. Enough that she had gotten scolded at work about it.

‘Hi, kitten. Can you come out with me for lunch? Casual. Just miss you. Xxxxxx’

Harry wanted to see her for both of their lunch hours. It was something he really was trying to do right by them. Make time for them even in the most hectic stages.

Y/N was nearing her break time, fully ready to go and grab something to eat. It was quite slow today, so she had been catching up on preparing dough to freeze. Now that she was officially dating Harry the bakery actually saw a lot more customers. They often had to bake off more goods throughout the day, which never used to happen. If there were any fans that came in, they didn’t act like they were. Her phone vibrated in her apron and she smiled, seeing as Harry had asked her out for lunch. Katya didn’t mind letting Y/N go out during her work day if it was to see Harry, she knew he was a busy man and that later in the year she wouldn’t see him much at all.

‘hi bunny, where abouts shall I meet you? 🥰’

‘Little cafe a few streets over. I’ll meet you there.’

She had never been happier. Y/N let herself go completely with Harry, everyone had noticed how much cheerier she has gotten since being with him. Also the regular sex helped. “I’m going for my lunch. Meeting Harry nearby, so... I’ll be back in an hour or so? Text me if there’s a rush.”

Harry was beyond excited. It was the neediest he had ever felt in a relationship, if he was being truthful. Y/N took it all in stride but he would get Whiny when she couldn’t stay the night, or always asked for one more kiss. It was most likely because he was finally comfortable around her. Vulnerable. He was okay with pouting and hugging at her and she took it all with a wide smile on his face. And now that his mother and sister knew they were really dating, they were dying to get to know her. He had gotten a few texts that they’d followed her Instagram, which had amassed half a million followers. In branding terms, it was one of the most successful relationships in PR. It was real now though. Harry was going to insist she take the money for it because she had to deal with him, even if she didn’t use it on herself. He pulled in and got them a table near the back, waiting patiently for his girl to come in. He missed her and it had only been a few hours since he’d come in for coffee. Of course the bakery staff loved when he came in, because he tipped heavily and gave high praises.

A short five minutes later Y/N had made it to the cafe, spotting Harry near the back as he often tended to do. She had seen him earlier, but she really couldn’t help but mentally comment on how cute he looked. Be it the fan in her piping up. Y/N smiled one of her wide smiles at him, jogging a little to him with open arms as she got closer to him.

“Hi baby.” She cooed, hugging him before pecking his lips softly. “How’s your day been so far?”

“My, sweet girl.” Harry sighed. It was a relief to feel her back in his arms. It was a bit embarrassing how much Harry worried about her. It was sad because there had been 2 times he would panic and she would call him back and promise she was okay, she was showering or driving. But now that he had a person he cared this much about, it was overwhelming. It was like once he let go of that fear a bit, the emotion flowed in very quickly and absorbed into his brain. Harry loved it though, really did like how he felt so much for her. She looked utterly adorable in a rainbow striped shirt and some cuffed jeans, and it made him want to coo. “Look so cute.” He sighed, squeezing her hip before helping her sit. It wasn’t needed but he wanted to. It had been a long day so he had gone casual.

Y/N was a smiley mess when she was with him, she swore he’d give her premature wrinkles on her baby face if he kept at it. “thank you, so do you... that shirt makes your chest look good.” She commented on his outfit, genuinely enjoying the sight. She liked his casual attire.

“S’been okay. Went to the gym and then down for album clean up. You know how it’s been lately.” Hectic. “Wanted to bring you with me to the studio tomorrow, actually. If that works. I want you to hear a few songs.”

“You want me to come with you?” Y/N said excitedly. “Tomorrow? Yeah I can do.” Y/N nodded, knowing she kept all of her days off free for him. “I’ll go home real quick after work and grab some things and I’ll come over.” She nodded, knowing he’d want to see her tonight because he was being extra needy. Y/N looked over the menu, finding something she was in the mood for. “Is it weird to have pasta for lunch? Cause I want pasta.” She spoke half to him and half to herself. “I’m gonna get the gnocchi in the red sauce. There is tons of cheese on it.” Y/N rubbed her hands together with excitement.

“Not weird at all, baby. Don’t worry.” Harry really didn’t think Y/N could do any wrong at this point. She was lighting up his life. He hadn’t been this happy in a long time and he would do anything to keep it going. The fact she was sleeping over again was even better to him. It meant kisses and cuddles and perhaps a good round of sex. That was something else he looked forward to. It had been amazing. Something he couldn’t ever forget in his life. Harry was set for it.

“That sounds perfect. Think m’gonna get... a veggie burger probably. Sweet potato fries. They’ve got that organic raspberry lemonade here, so I’ll get that as well.” He was on a bit of an organic kick, another reason he suggested this place. They wouldn’t talk about the dominos he ordered 4 nights ago after good sex. Nope.

Y/N smiled at how excited he was about the raspberry lemonade, he was so cute. “That sounds tasty, I’ll have one too.” She said, closing the menu and setting it to the side. Dating Harry was like a dream. He fed her well, gave her attention, fucked her good. There was nothing else she needed. He seemed happy as well and that is what was most important.

The fans feedback was something that surprised Y/N. She tried to stay offline mainly because she had a nasty habit of reading comments. To be honest, most of them were really nice and made her smile, others were— filled with jealousy. There were a lot of comments about how they’d never seen Harry this happy and how they loved that she was a normal girl. It’s what she liked to hear really.

“I’m actually really excited to go to the studio with you, Aw.” Y/N smiled, “it’ll be fun to see you in your element.” She was beyond excited to meet everyone on his team on the music side of things, his band mates. Y/N loved the music side of things, she would love to see how it was done.

“I just am excited to get you into all the aspects of my life.” It was weird. For how commitment-phobic Harry had been before, he was ready right now to integrate her into every part he possibly could. Weave her into any fiber and keep memories wherever he was able to get them. Maybe it was a bit of fear of losing her but, majority was just because he was truly falling for her every moment. “Everyone is very excited to meet you, my darling. Especially my mum...” He winced as she choked slightly on the provided water. They had to act casual when the waitress took their order, but he felt her eyes burning into him as skin as she left. “Babe... she called me and I couldn’t stop talking about you and how we had been hanging around a lot and s’why I haven’t called much. I told her what happened lately and now she’s been biting at me to try and get the both of you together. Gems as well.” He knew Y/N was a little intimidated by his mum and sister but there was no reason to be. They already quite liked her from what they saw. “Oh— and I dunno if you follow them but, they’ve followed your Instagram.”

His mum? Oh god. Y/N couldn’t have been more nervous now that Anne was aware of her existence, knowing what was out there on the internet. It was a natural step though, she knew Harry would want her to meet them at some point. But being a fan of Harry’s meant knowing who his family were and adding them on socials. Y/N took another sip of her drink as he told her that they followed her on Instagram, she nearly choked again.

“They did?” Y/N asked, setting the drink down. “Of course I follow them, babe, been a fan for a long time of course I’m going to follow your mom and sister. Do you even follow me on Instagram?” She thought that was actually sweet that they had gone and followed her before having met her. Y/N knew she had nothing to be nervous about, but she was. They were so important to Harry and she wanted them to approve.

“Wait... I don’t.” Harry wasn’t huge with social media at all. 9/10 he was playing phone games or messaging someone or watching videos but he hadn’t realized he hadn’t followed her yet. That was the stupidest thing. So he took the phone out, handed it to her with a large grin on his face. “Type it in for me, but I wanna be the one to press the button.” He was being silly but he knew that the fangirl in Y/N would be grateful for that. He loved it too. How she sometimes got giddy looking at him. It was easy to tell.

Y/N took his phone and searched for her name, shocked when she saw the sheer amount of followers she had gained. “Can’t believe you’re mom and sister followed me before you.” Y/N laughed, shaking her head as she handed him the phone.

“Wait wait wait, let me take a video.” Y/N giggled, pulling out her phone and hit record. “Here is the moment I’ve been waiting for, go on babes.” She cooed, smiling as he hit the button and continued to film just because she thought he looked cute. She did that thing where she zoomed in on his face, “Ugh choke me king.” She ended the video after catching his reaction and laughed.

Harry heard her phone ding. Finally. “Feel like an idiot. You’re with me every night and not even following you.” He shook his head. “Never gonna unfollow now. Unless you stop making lemon bars. Cause... I’d be very upset with you.” He teased. He really did eat his weight in them. “But they already really like you, love. Really. My mum keeps sayin’ how cute you are and how sweet you seem.”

“Honestly, it’s fine. A follow from you is not worth as much as a quality cuddle.” Y/N admitted and took a sip of her lemonade. Harry’s social media presence was always under a microscope but she was positive that people didn’t question why he hadn’t followed her. “aw wait really? She’s an angel. I watch her Instagram stories of the cats and they make my day.” Y/N blushed, “but I am excited to meet them. Nervous, but excited.”

“She’s probably got a kitten lined up for you to adopt. Swear. She sets up all of the people I bring around with cats. My sister, her boyfriend. My childhood friends. She’s a cat whisperer.” Harry wasn’t even kidding. Anne has a way with them and matches them to humans. “Also, why did you ask me to choke you? I mean, I will. But later.” He was a bit stupid when it came to fan language, but Y/N seemed to know that type of stuff. He figured she had an account but he only went on every so often. It was amazing to think that she was already familiar with his habits. Some may find it weird but he loved it. “You’ll get both that and a quality cuddle at home but, you’re an odd biscuit.” Harry sniffed out a laugh before putting his phone down. He would be searching through her account far and wide today and have questions later.

Y/N laughed a proper laugh at his comment, “you really don’t check twitter as much as people think you do, huh baby?” She asked and reached out to take his hand just cause she wanted to hold it. “It’s like... when you find someone really attractive, in Internet culture it’s common to say things that are super outrageous that you would think to yourself but usually not say out loud.” Y/N tried her best to explain but it was just a strange concept. “So when I say, choke me king, I mean it... but also it’s just another way of saying you look really hot.” Y/N smiled, laughing a bit because she felt like it was common knowledge, but then again Harry wasn’t a hardcore stan. “promise me you won’t judge me for what I’ve said about you on the internet.” She knew better wouldn’t, but he would tease her.

“Not going to judge you, my love. I don’t judge other fans whether. Everyone has their little vice. Their words. Their hobbies. Some people have me as their hobby or distraction? That’s great. I’m happy I can be that for them.” He had an appreciation for them that ran deep. Every single one. “But I’m interested to learn what it is. The lingo and all that. I want to learn about the culture and be more aware of it.” He suggested. “Can you teach me tonight?” Y/N would be the perfect tutor. She was a fan for years. “Now. The real question— what did you want to do for dinner tonight? Go out or eat in.” He figured eat in. “Probably will do take away because I’ll be too tired to cook. But you’ve got your key, yeah? I’ll leave some cash with you when we leave and you just order what you want for when I get home.” He could come home to Y/N in his house and that was incredibly amazing.

“You read my mind.” Y/N hummed, “I’ll figure out something for food, just text me when you’re on your way.” She had wanted to cook for him. She figured it would be something nice she could do for her man after a long day at work. It was essentially just a domestic simulator. She also wanted to pick something else out to wear underneath one of his t shirts. She had a really good idea.

“I’m excited to hang out with you tonight, love. I know it’s every night but I just don’t get tired of it. You make me so happy, you know that?” Harry's voice dropped, a shy smile on his mouth as he grabbed her smaller hand. “I hope m’not annoying.”

Y/N pouted in awe, squeezing his hand a little tighter at what he said. “Aw angel.” She said softly, “I swear I’m the happiest girl in the world all because of you.” She spoke quietly to him. Harry got shy around her sometimes and it made her heart swell up because he was her baby and he was the sweetest man alive. “Could never annoy me, you keep forgetting I’ve been enamored by you for nearly 10 years.” It was true. She doubted he could ever annoy her, she has spent every day of her life of the past 9 years thinking about him in some way shape or form. Y/N loved his attention and truly felt like she needed to be smothered in it after being so deprived.

Harry really did fear annoying her. He was still working on making it up to her for hurting her. It was clear that Y/N was basically over it and thrived off of the coddling and attention she got now but he still worried about it. From his past relationships, he was told he was a bit clingy and smothering and boring. Y/N hadn’t made him feel any of those things.

“It tickles me that you were a fan. I love it. Makes me sad that I didn’t meet you beforehand though, at the shows... we could have been together for a long time before this.” Harry knew that he would have found her incredibly attractive even before. There was just something so incredibly drawing about Y/N that had Harry in awe. “I’m so lucky I met you.” He often became soft when it came to Y/N. The girl pulled things and emotions out of him he had never really been comfortable showing. “I’m happy that you aren’t annoyed though. Cause I plan on being around you for as long as you let me.”

Never did Y/N think that she would end up in the position that she was in right now. With Harry sitting across from her, looking and speaking to her in awe. She felt like she was the real life ‘Y/N’. Everything that happened in the last 5 months would say so. “Well you don’t really meet fans that much do you? Have to be insanely lucky.” Y/N said, stirring the straw in her drink. “You really think you would have fancied me?” She blushed at her own question, “would you have seen me and wanted to get to know me? I can’t imagine you’d ever do that.” Y/N said softly, feeling like it was unrealistic. Sure she thought she was beautiful, but she didn’t think she was show stopping or anything like Harry was making her out to be. Especially in her younger years. “We are lucky to have met each other.” Y/N smiles fondly, squeezing his hand a bit more. She really was lucky that Jeff had found her and picked her out of a bunch of contenders. She wondered what made Jeff pick her, wondered why she was the first person they asked and that they were insistent on having Harry date.

She truly didn’t understand just how attractive Harry thought she was, or how amazing he found her. Which was sad but also, he could understand. Millions adored him, apparently, and he couldn’t process how or why. Still. He wished Y/N could see her how he saw her.

“I think I would have. But I know you won’t believe me, so.” He chuckled at her, shaking his head before he finished off his food. In the front, he could see two fans patiently waiting. “Hey— Wait, Y/N? There’s two fans up there. I want to go say hi and thank them for not interrupting but I dunno if you want to come or not.”

They hadn’t run into many fans at all because of their planning times, but now he was quite excited to. He did keep to himself and met fans when he came across them but he knew how to camouflage or blend into the streets. He was to himself and both he and Y/N had gone to get purposely photographed, but this was different. It was his favorite when fans waited for him and didn’t just interrupt.

Y/N turned her head to look at the fans, smiling at them and waving. She then turned to Harry, “I’m sure they just want to meet you babe, I can’t stay back it’s okay! If you want me to come with you I will.” Y/N said softly, genuinely not wanting to encroach on Harry’s time with his fans.

If she was in the fans position, she’d want personal time with Harry and though she knew the fans quite liked her she still didn’t want to assume they wanted to meet her when they actually wanted to just meet Harry. She felt like the girls were super kind though, seeing as they had the decency to wait and not interrupt when they were clearly on a date. Y/N didn’t mind him going to meet his fans at all, in fact she would let him take his good old time. She knew how important it was for the both of them, and frankly, Y/N wanted everyone to love up on her boyfriend. She’d have all the time in the world with him.

“Come with me.” Harry suggested, taking her hand in his and throwing some money on the table. Enough for a good tip, and then some. Her small hand felt secure in his as he approached, only dropping it when he went to hug the both of them.

“I’m sorry if we’re bothering you.” One said shyly. “We didn’t want to interrupt.”

Harry just smiled. “Not at all. You didn’t interrupt, I appreciate you waiting.” The girls were giddy, and it was adorable.

“Oh— Y/N, right? we follow your instagram. You’re so pretty. All your photos are amazing but you’re even prettier in person.”

“Oh my god, thank you so much.” Y/N cooed, going in to hug them without them asking. They were so sweet, they deserved all the hugs possible. Harry was proud of that. People were complimenting his girlfriend and loving her and he was thriving because of it. Everyone loves Y/N. That’s how it should be.

“You did really good, Harry. She’s so nice.” The other one said shyly. He could feel his ego expanding as he nodded.

“I did indeed. Now. Did we want photos?”

“Here, let me take them.” Y/N offered, taking about twenty photos on each of the girls phones at different angles because she knew that’s what she would have wanted. “Give me a silly one now, go on.” She directed, knowing that it would be really cute if each of the girls had variations. Again, it’s what she would have wanted. “Do you guys have Twitter?” Y/N asked with a hum, “mind if I give you guys a follow?” She asked shyly. She really liked stan Twitter and just because she was dating Harry now didn’t mean that she wouldn’t still tweet about him.

It was a few photos and chatting, and Y/N had stolen the show. It’s just how it was. She giggled with the other fan as they took their photos and when they switched so the other girl could take her pictures, it was the same thing. Y/N had her own little friends now. Harry’s interest was stroked. Oh? A twitter. He hadn’t even thought about that. A damn Twitter. Fucks sake, she had a fan account! He had to find it. There had to be some funny and sweet things tweeted on there, right? He sure as hell hoped they were sweet, anyways. Some of his fans could drag him to filth and he knew it. While funny— he wasn’t sure what Y/N would be like.

“Yes! Yes, we would love that.”

Y/N followed the both of them, smiling as she saw they were already following her and it made her feel all soft inside. It was really sweet. “okay amazing, I’ll be seeing you on my timeline then.” Y/N hummed and pushed a few pieces of hair behind her ear.

Harry watched with a little smile as she exchanged twitter stuff with them and was so fucking happy. None of his other relationships had gone too well with fans. Same with the girls. They’d not really been the biggest fan of the fans, ironically. They could be invasive and rude to protect him but, he knew it was all in the love of their hearts.

“I hate to cut this off ladies, but Y/N has to go back to work. Her sister will be a pouty puppy if she’s late.” He said regretfully, gently placing his hand on Y/N’s shoulder. “Lovely to meet you both!”

Y/N looked over at Harry, almost forgetting that he was there for a moment but he was right. She set her hand over his, “it was so nice to meet you, have a great rest of your day!” She spoke, watching as the two of them turned to walk off before going to give Harry a hug. “That was so cute.” Y/N hummed, “can’t believe they were so nice, I was almost expecting them to just give me a small hello but that was— Aw.” She was truly happy they accepted her as his girlfriend. She knew that fans had never been approving of his girlfriends so it meant a lot that she made the cut. “You’re also so cute with them, I cry.”

“It was incredibly cute, but you were the reason.” Harry laughed. God. He adored this sweet thing so much. “It’s so nice to see fans love a girlfriend of mine so much. They really aren’t huge on people in my life and are so overprotective— well, you obviously know that.” He forgot for a moment that she knew all too well because she had been a fan once. “Speaking of, actually... I want to know what you all thought of my other relationships. Think about it and tell me tonight during my cute little fan talk lessons.” He had to part with her at his car, pouting slightly when he kissed her a few times. She tasted like the raspberry lemonade they’d been sipping on. “Here’s the money for the take away, just order whatever you want and go home before me.” He didn’t realize he was calling it home so much. But it was too soon to ask her to move in. Right? Yeah. So he just tried to get her over as much as possible.

Y/N raised her brows as he told her he wanted to hear about what she thought about his past relationship. “Are you sure you want to know?” She asked, pecking his lips quickly because she couldn’t resist it. Plus, Harry was okay with them kissing in public which was nice. “Alright, baby.” Y/N hummed, pecking his lips a few more times before giving him one last hug. “I’ll see you later. Have fun at the studio.” She told him before going off into the bakery where she was met by her smiling sister. Katya was just so happy to see her so happy.

The rest of the work day went by pretty quickly and Y/N was happy about it. The little break in between really did help. She quickly nipped home to pack an outfit to wear to the studio tomorrow, but also to change into something more cozy adding something saucy underneath. He wouldn’t suspect a thing. Y/N had also decided to pop by the grocery store on her way to Harry’s, getting some ingredients for a nice stir fry that she intended to cook up in time for him to come home to. She felt like it would be much more sweet than take away, they always ended up ordering out when they were together.

Harry had a long day in the studio, and he was tired. All he wanted was to curl in the bed with Y/N and play the food television channel and have her play with his hair. It had been on his mind all day that he was going home to her and he was so unbelievably excited about it.

‘Comin home now my kitten (: xxxx’

He had sent her that before getting in the car, sighing happily as he turned it on to start the journey home. He was buzzing over the idea of Y/N just living there. Coming home to her and not having an empty home. Maybe she could expand the bakery chain they had to LA and stay there when he did more recording? Wishful thinking but, he wanted to have her at all times even if it wasn’t possible. However the day got even better when he got home and stepped into the kitchen, seeing a sight that he was beginning to hope was a forever thing. Y/N had the music on his speaker, swinging her hips as she sang along to some music. But more importantly, she was cooking dinner and there was a plate of lemon bars on the counter.

“Think I’ve died and gone to heaven.” Harry was incredibly down for a domestic night in. What others had said was boring, Y/N was voluntarily doing it for him.

Y/N started cooking when Harry sent her the text, wanting to make sure it was nice and hot. She had taken the liberty of making herself at home as she usually did, connecting to the speaker and just jamming out as she took over his kitchen. Y/N wanted to make it as thoughtful as possible considering Harry had been so sweet to her, setting the table all cute with some candles. She also had made sure to bring some lemon bars over for him to have on hand. He loved those things. She heard him come in, lifting her head up and smiling one of her wide smiles at him for the third time today. Y/N was always happy to see him.

“Rightly so, cause you’re an angel.” Y/N commented, running over to greet him properly. She wrapped her arms around his neck and got on her tippy toes to be level with him so she could kiss him. “You sir, go change and get all comfy. I’m just finishing up with dinner, it should be around 5 minutes.” She told him, pecking his lips once again. Y/N wasn’t sure what’s gotten into her today, but she was feeling super appreciative today. Even more so than usual.

“Mm, I dunno...” Harry muttered. “Should just have you for dinner, hm?” He playfully nipped her bottom lip and felt the girl squeak and giggle as he gently tickled her sides. There was something about her in his clothes, in his kitchen and making the both of them food that was utterly arousing to him. Beyond it. He wanted to bend her over the counter but his stomach had growled in protest. “I’ll change and freshen up. Keep lookin’ proper fit and making good food.” He playfully swatted her behind before placing his keys on the counter and working up the stairs to his room. He changed into a Grey sweater and some basketball shorts, leaving his feet covered in socks. A beanie was thrown on too, knowing that Y/N had mentioned it to him a few days ago when she saw it in his closet.

“Later, later...” Y/N hummed, smiling smugly at him at his comments. She was just so glad he was home, she felt like she could finally relax and she was finally content. “go.” She pecked his lips again, deciding she too would smack his ass as he turned around to head up stairs. That really was her man.

Y/N was getting lit to her playlist, various types of music on there including some trap, because who didn’t love listening to some trashy trap music from time to time? It was good hype music too. “You know why these bitches love me? Cause baby don’t give a fuck. I be fixin' the weave while she suckin' my dick pull it out, then I titty fuck” She rapped along to the lyrics of ‘Cash Shit’, startled as Harry started to speak.

“It smells amazing, sweetheart.” Harry walked into the kitchen to see her swinging her butt around, yelping when he spoke. “What? Why are you stopping the show?”

Y/N turned down the music a bit, blushing a bit and went to plate the food as it was ready. She looked at Harry as he asked why she stopped the show, shaking her head. “Cause you can get a private one later.” She shrugged, deciding that would be more effective than whatever she was doing in this kitchen.

Harry brows raised up and he took her word for it. A private show? Hell yeah. When he had been spooked at the strippers for his 19th birthday party, he would be very happy to see his Y/N run around and dance for him. Especially in his clothes.

“I’m hungry, so I can wait for the show.” He laughed, turning the music down and grabbing the plate she had made up to bring it to the table. He grabbed the drinks and set the table up for them, humming as he did so. It hadn’t been very long at all with Y/N being his real girlfriend, but it was the most comfortable he had ever been with someone. He would tell her that later but he was relishing in the comfortable and warm energy in the home.

Y/N walked over to the table once everything was in order, taking a seat next across from Harry. She lit the candles she placed on the table, winking at Harry as she did so. “Some romantic ambiance.” She teased, setting the lighter down before looking down at her food. She loved stir fry and asian cuisine in general, she thought it was delicious and quite easy to make. Y/N took a forkful into her mouth and moaned, doing a little dance. It was really good, she hoped that he enjoyed it.

“How was the rest of your day? How’d the studio session go?” She asked, genuinely curious because well, she loved hearing him talk about music. Y/N was sure he never got tired of talking about it, but also, it was different talking to her about it than an interviewer per say. “The bakery was quite busy... it’s getting super busy lately and I think it’s because of you actually... you’re a loyal customer and now everyone wants to try.”

Harry loved her reactions to food. She always got so excited and pleased with it and gave adorable little reactions that had him nearly cooing. Even before they were together together, he had found it endearing.

“The session was good. Finishing up a song. You’ll be at the tail end tomorrow which is kind of boring but also interesting. It’s a lot of re—recording things that aren’t just right, moving things around, trying different takes. But I think you’ll enjoy it. You always seem interested in it.” He felt that she would be the perfect candidate for a third ear. “I’m glad we can get people in there to try. They’re bound to end up repeating customers too.” He had no doubt. “I’m excited to see how much it grows from now on. If I can help in any way, I would really like to.” It was an honest offer. When he took a bite, he hummed happily. “Hm. This is really good, baby.” He complimented. “‘Not only a little baker, but a cute chef on my hands too?”

It warmed Y/N’s heart to know that he wanted to help her with the bakery the best he could. She and Katya put her heart and soul into it, so to see it start to take off was truly incredible. “Thank you baby.. and I’m glad to hear you had a good day.” It just seemed like the two of them seeing each other throughout the day improved their work ethic too. They really were so good for each other. “A domestic goddess I am.” She joked, taking another bite because she really was hungry as well. “I figured it would be nice to cook for you since we’ve been eating out so much. Have a nice relatively healthy meal.” Y/N shrugged and took a sip of her water. She truly didn’t mind cooking either, much like baking it was one of her passions. “I’ve known you for how long now? Like 5 months and we’ve been properly dating for like a month?” Y/N wasn’t exactly sure, she had to look, but roughly those were the numbers. “Wow...” she chuckled to herself, realizing just how deep she was in already. Y/N often fell deep for guys, giving them 100% straight out the gate and kept it consistent. She’d never really had any proper luck. Harry was her first actual boyfriend. “I usually eat a lot healthier, but I like to focus all my time with you on you, so I haven’t been cooking much.” When she went home before he would cook himself food or order from nicer places or go out with other friends but now he didn’t want to waste a moment. Not when Y/N was around.

“A proper month, huh? Feels a lot longer for some reason.” It was just an incredibly comfortable dynamic between them. They just got one another perfectly. She hadn’t given up on him when he was an asshole and he was always going to remember that. “5 months sounds correct. Although I wish I hadn’t been such a tool the first few, I’m glad I get to make it up to you now.” Y/N would soon even be flooded with gifts and a huge surprise for her birthday. He had stopped by the bakery to tell Katya on one of Y/N’s off days so he could figure out how to help with her absence. He was having a friend from Cheshire come down to help while Y/N was away with him. “It feels a lot more comfortable with you. Like... dunno how to explain it but it’s something that I haven't felt with anyone else. You know?”

Hearing Harry say that made Y/N incredibly soft. All she had ever wanted was to make Harry feel comfortable and loved. He deserved it. She felt like all his previous relationships, from what she knew about them, he felt like he had to prove himself in some way and it hurt her heart to think about.

“You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear that.” She started, “you’re so special to me. I know I don’t say it a lot, mostly because I’m still so in my head about trying not to freak you out. I always knew that if I ever got to date you that I’d make you the happiest man in the world... and I’ve made that my mission daily.” Y/N blushed, looking down at her food before taking another bite because she felt like she could ramble about how much she cared about him for hours. If she wasn’t careful she’d end up saying the L word. She loved him. Properly. Not just in a fan way, but in a true romantic way. Y/N had grown to get to know him and all his quirks that many didn’t know about him, she’d gotten to experience him as a lover, as a friend, as her number one fan. And she loved him, she was positive.

“Angel... I don’t want you to censor yourself around me. I want to know what you think. Even if you think it’s cringey, I can almost guarantee I want to hear it.” Harry promised. Any thought of Y/N’s, he would die to hear. “I mean it. I want to know all about your little likes of mine. I went on twitter today and poke around quietly to see some fan accounts. It’s interesting to me how little things I do, they like so much. I know that in the band it would freak the other guys out a little but... I guess for me, I’m intrigued with how it works and what things my fans really like me doing.” He was an innocent puppy when it came to those things. “But let me tell you... that you’re already making me the happiest I’ve been. So you’re right on track. Especially cooking me good food and giving me someone to come home to.” His smile was genuine and soft to her. “I had been lonely for a long time.”

“Okay but like, I don’t think you understand the extent.” Y/N blushed, knowing he said he could handle it but she was nervous because she knew it would come off very obsessive even though she just really cared about him. So fucking deeply she cared about him. It was only amplified now that she consistently had him as a part of her life. “Baby... that’s so cute.” She pouted, wanting to smother him in kisses. Y/N constantly just wanted to squeeze him, attack him with kisses as he often did with her. Everything he did just sent her. “You can um.. look through my Twitter after dinner if you’d like. I post a lot about you on there.” Y/N explained, it was strictly a stan account. “You’re never going to be lonely again. And I mean that.” Y/N said genuinely, knowing that if things continued to go this well she would happily marry him. She had been wanting nothing more. Dating Harry was even better than she had ever imagined, and though she knew they could get in little fights here and there, they’d always find their way back.

Harry didn’t plan on this having an end date. His Aquarius sun had fought him a bit in the beginning, being so sure that Y/N wasn’t the one, but once they’d decided on being together? He was keeping her. There was a lot of stubbornness in Harry, and he had decided Y/N was the one for him.

“I’m not lettin’ you go so I’m glad you've come to terms with it.” He smirked at her. God, he adored this pretty girl with his whole heart. It was entering love territory though, and that oddly didn’t scare him as much as he thought it would. Sure, it was scary in some ways. Letting her have his whole heart in his palm. But he trusted her. “But you’re giving me your Twitter? Oooooo.” Harry wiggled his brows. “Gonna read all your direct messages too. I’m very excited to see what you could possibly have on there.” He knew there had to be some real shit because she groaned and blushed. “Can’t take it back! Nope. It’s fine for me to know the true fan in you. But it isn’t going to freak me out, baby. After dinner, we can settle on the couch or even in bed and cuddle a little. Been lookin forward all day.”

A calm feel over Y/N as he told her that he wasn’t letting her go. She believed him. She actually believed him and that was the best part about it. Never in her life had Y/N ever felt truly cared for and accepted, never had she expected it to be Harry. She had always wanted it to be him, dreamed about it being him, and the fact that he was suggesting she really was the one for him? God she couldn’t put that feeling into words.

“Yes I am, don’t make me regret it.” Y/N said in a stern tone though it really had no bite behind it. When he mentioned direct messages she fumbled with her fork. “Oh god, I don’t even know what I sent—” Y/N shook her head. He didn’t follow her on twitter but she had had someone put her in a group chat with him and then leave. Essentially gifting her a dm with him. A cuddle did sound really nice though, she’d let him read through it though just so she could listen to his voice and relax with him. Y/N knew there would be some funny tweets and some emotional tweets. Just a roller coaster of things really.

Dinner was relaxing and calm and he found himself on the couch with Y/N in no time. They’d cleaned up the dishes together and settled in, Harry sending Y/N to find the nice big blanket in the ball closer. When he came back, he found a little Y/N burrito in the blankets and swore his heart melted.

“Dunno where my pretty girlfriend has gone. All I see is this burrito. Looks awfully similar though.” Harry smirked at the joke and she sent him an eye roll but obviously found it cute by the blush on her cheeks. “Now, if my burrito girlfriend will unroll, let her boyfriend inside said blanket burrito and give him said phone to look through the twitter app, it would be appreciated.” He sat on the couch and waited expectantly for her.

Y/N giggled, rolling herself out of the burrito with ease. She crawled into Harry’s lap and sat sideways with her back against the arm of the chair so she could watch him look through her Twitter. This would be fun.

“Okay so, the best way to do it is this...” Y/N said, typing in her at name and the word ‘harry’ into the search bar revealing all the tweets about Harry that she has made over the years. Oh boy. “My first tweet dates back to 2012, are you ready?” Y/N shook her head, handing him the phone so he could begin to scroll through.

A lot of the tweets were just his name or saying something along the lines of ‘harry is so hot’ or ‘I love harry’. All of which were true, it just shocked her because of the sheer amount she had tweeted about him. Hundreds and hundreds of tweets and those were just the ones with his name in them. That didn’t count all the photos she had tweeted or videos she reacted to. Harry couldn’t believe how many tweets there were. He was in awe. Y/N hadn’t been lying. Not that Harry has thought she was but this just solidified the fact that she was a mega fan. All else aside? It was fucking hilarious.

“Wow... my god, Y/N.” He giggled. “You’ve been a fan since... you were a wee sperm? And now you swallow my sperm. Talk about character development.” Harry snickered. Y/N gasped and smacked his shoulder lightly but he wasn’t going to stop. Oh no. This was too good. “The screenshot. You think I’m cute and want to fuck me? Even on that day! I appreciate it.” It was incredibly funny and surreal to see how she has genuinely been tweeting at him for years and years. “Another December girlfriend... that's cold. Considering you were a December girlfriend for a time. Life’s crazy. But now you’re my all seasons girlfriend, so you win.” He kissed the side of her head and continued on. “Hmmm. Love my butt. Want to suck my dick! I can’t say I’m not having the time of my life. This is the best ego boost.” He smirked. “Wait... I spit at you?” He widened his eyes and a large smile on his face. It turned dirty quicker. “So... went from loving that you had water spit on you, to now asking me to spit in your mouth. Such a good grown up situation.”

Y/N blushed deeply, shaking her head to herself as she read through some of the tweets herself. But despite her embarrassment, Harry was enjoying them so she let herself go a bit and just accepted that she was cringey when she was younger.

“Harry I was a minor!!” Y/N shook her head, laughing at his comments. “But they did age well. All accurate. Still think you’re cute and wanna fuck you at the same time, I was your December girlfriend but now I’m just your girlfriend, also... love your butt and want to suck your dick still so... I’m consistent if anything.” Y/N said as a matter of factly. “Where do you think that kink came from?” Y/N chuckled, looking at him with a raised brow. She cupped his cheek and just looked at him in awe for a moment, “you know how surreal this is? For me? It’s documented how I’ve been dreaming about this for 9 whole years...” Y/N truly got emotional thinking about it. Her thumb swiped over his bottom lip, smiling fondly at him for a moment before pressing a sweet and kiss to his lips and pulled away to nuzzle her face into his neck. “Okay continue.”

“Mm. I know. I wouldn’t have made a move on you back then if you were a minor. I don’t do that. Unlike other band members.” Harry shrugged. What? It sat with him wrong that Liam was dating a girl when she was underage and lied about it to everyone possible.

“Oop.” Y/N said with a giggle, knowing exactly who he was talking about. It was weird for Y/N to suddenly know all the ins and outs of the band and things in Harry’s life, but it made a lot more sense and explained why Harry is the way he is and why he acts a certain way.

“I’m glad though. That you get to live this out with me. Cause if you weren’t a fan we wouldn’t have met... but we are so suited for each other.” They truly were the most suited for one another that he had ever seen. The photos of them faking were very real looking because they both harbored those feelings. “You’re something else. My god, Kiska.” He chuckled as he placed a hand on her thigh as he continued to read. “There's a whole lot about my dick here. Been dirty for forever. And then you get soft... aw. Sayin’ you want to wear my sweater. The purple one? You can. It’s put away in my little chest but I can dig it out for you.”

Y/N picked up her head from his neck, “really?” She asked with eyes full of wonder. “I think you should at least wear that color more... we all went crazy. You just looked so cute and soft and it made your eyes look nice.” Y/N’s tone was so gooey. It was clear to tell that she had been very invested. “You gave me all those shirts to wear and like... all of them are so iconic among fans. If only you knew.” Y/N commented, wondering what else he had hidden in that chest of his. Maybe she could find some old gems. Y/N knew twitter was a safe option for him to scroll freely on. Something that she hoped stayed a secret was her tumblr, but she had a feeling fans would dig it up somehow.

“Well tell meee.” Harry whined, handing her phone back. “Memorized your user and stuff so I will look at more later. But I want my lesson in what you fans like.” He leaned back against the couch and wrapped his arm around her, letting her settle into his body. “Want to know what drives all of you crazy and what you hate and love. It’s so interesting to me.” He was so intrigued by it all. Y/N knee more than anyone else he knew though. “What is the lingo and stuff? I feel like a middle aged father when it comes to learning the hip things. Also... don’t think I didn’t catch those other tweets. Calling me daddy since then, huh? That’s interesting. Considering how often you use it to get what you want now.”

“So you want to know the tea?” Y/N started off, getting properly cozy with him on the couch. “Do you know what tea means?” She asked, wondering how basic his knowledge was. Y/N felt like tea was a common word used so he should know it, but he probably still struggled to grasp the concept. “Tea is gossip. Do you want to know the gossip?” Y/N felt like she could teach him easily, but it would take a while. Maybe some observing on twitter will help. “Contextual clues help as well, but let’s get into it.” She hummed and thought about his question. “So, we love seeing pictures of you anytime anywhere doing anything. Your fans are essentially all like girlfriends, they all want to love and protect you.” Y/N smiled as she explained. “We love when you just act like yourself, when you’re goofy and just do your quirky Harry things. Like that nose scrunch you do and rub your nose with your knuckle. And you picking your lip.” Y/N pointed out a few harrisims. “The way you say the word ‘obviously’ like ‘ovishly’” she giggled at that one because it was just really cute. “Don’t really hate anything besides the fact that you didn’t really have good friends around you till recently. People would stalk the people you hung out with and report back to us, essentially giving us all the insights... a fan background check if you will. That’s why all your previous relationships weren’t as successful. They didn’t have a good track record.” Y/N explained to him, “mines flawless, obviously.” She winked.

“It’s so odd to think that those things are so normal but you all like them much. Not in a bad way at all but... it’s just incredibly interesting to know that things I don’t even think twice about are your favorite things.” Harry was shocked. The nose thing and how he said certain words weren’t conscious decisions. “Also.. tea? I’ve heard someone say the phrase before but I wasn’t paying all that much attention if m’honest.” He admitted to Y/N. She would get that he wasn’t at all that current and stayed off of socials usually. “Obviously... I’m not the most up to date. But I like learning. I feel good that you are at least in the know about this stuff. Can always ask you about them. I have a question though. Do people mean it when they ask me to run them over? It seems a bit excessive and I would never, but I see a lot of people telling me they want me to and I don’t get it.”

“I know baby, we just love the things that are unique to you. Being a fan is not different than having a crush I think.” Y/N explained, “it’s a strange relationship between artists and fans... because the way artists’ speak to fans like, telling them they love, appreciate, support, and accept them? that can do a lot for someone who is impressionable.” She would know first hand.

“it puts fans in a headspace where they feel safe with that person because they feel seen and heard. It’s quite special. I think it’s really lovely that you’re curious to know what it’s like... it shows so much about your character and I know for a fact your fans know just how great you are. We fight for you... but everyone loves you.” Y/N felt like she was rambling but he needed to know all of this. Y/N snorted a bit when he mentioned the run me over trend, shaking her head. “No, baby, they don’t mean it.” She said, combing through his hair with her fingers. “Best way to explain it is, when you're so attracted to someone to love someone so much that it’s overwhelming, you would rather feel intense pain? A lot of it is for comedic effect.” It was harder to explain than she thought. “It’s a more extreme version of ‘choke me daddy’.”

Harry absorbed all the information. It was a lot to take in but truthfully, he was in awe. They loved him so much, didn’t they? He always knew that, of course he did. But it was something else completely when it came down to it. He was some people’s happiness and truly, Harry couldn’t understand it fully.

“Kind of like with you. Like you so much that wanna bash my head in sometimes. Always thinking about you.” He pulled a quick move and rubbed her to straddle his lap. His arms wrapped around her waist and held her to him, fingers sneaking up the shirt to rub the bare skin of her back. Harry has found that she melted with just a little bit of back rubbing. “I do like when you tell me to choke you, though. S’fun. We have immaculate sex.” He hummed. Sex hadn’t ever been this good. Ever. Y/N was adventurous and kinky. “Speeeeeaking of. Is there anything you’d like to try?” He’s meant to have this conversation earlier. “We really kind of just... hopped into it. I think we can just tell what we like. But I wanted to ask if there’s things you like and don’t like. Be more open about it.”

Y/N giggled at how he did his best to make a similar comment, he was adorable. She squeaked a bit as he made a quick move to have her straddling him, it was her favorite position really both for sex and for cuddling. It felt properly close, like she could hold him completely just like he could hold her.

“Course you do.” Y/N snickered, pecking his nose softly. “We do have immaculate sex, truly have never had better.” She agreed, watching his smile widen as it always did when she gave him compliments like that. Harry really did just tend to every need of hers and she was always eager to do the same. “Um... well, I’d be truly willing to try anything as long as you’d be up for it.” Y/N said truthfully, thinking a bit about what they could try that they haven’t tried just yet. “You’re an actor now, maybe you’d like to experiment in some role play at some point.” She teased, “haven’t tied me up yet either... haven’t got any toys either.” Y/N brought up, wondering what was on his mind when it came to these things.

“Hm... would like to do all of those, I believe. I think that it would be good. Toys would be fun. Know those little wand vibrators? Would be fun to tie you up and use one on you.” Oh, Harry could be evil in that sense. Over sensitivity was fun because Y/N got so whimpers and whiny, her legs would shake and he was obsessed with making her little noises she would make. “We’ll have to order some toys. Trying to decide if I should just order some fun things or have you help me, though.” He said in faux thought. Of course he would include Y/N in it. Through their many many sexual rounds, he found that she was rather submissive. Liked when he took control and ordered her to do things. Was an absolute pro at sucking his cock. Truly... he loved it. But what he had found out was that he was a slut for licking her out.

A lot of the time he would wake her up with his mouth between her thighs. It couldn’t be helped. The girl tasted so sweet, her cunt was beautiful, and she would wake up and make the cutest noises. A few times she tried to physically push her away from sensitivity and he just held on and continued for another two orgasms. She fell asleep back after that. It was weird but he felt like he was on a high every time he did it. Some men didn’t like it but Harry has a growing obsession.

“Speaking of again.. can I eat you out tonight?” Harry loved making her blush when he asked them so bluntly.

Y/N’s eyes darkened, excited to hear that he was willing to try everything she had mentioned. “Could do both... order some things with me and without me. I like surprises.” Y/N smiled mischievously, relaxing into the feeling of his hands against her back. The one thing that shook Y/N to her core was just how much he liked eating her out. He would use any excuse to go down on her and it was truly a blessing. Never had she had a man worship her pussy the way Harry did, she felt like she was some godly creature with the way he took pleasure in pleasuring her. Her face went red, tingles sent directly to her core at the mere thought. “You don’t have to ask, you know that..” Y/N said shyly, fully wanting him to know that she would be okay with him eating her out whenever he wanted. Literally whenever. She’d never be opposed. They both had a high sex drive and it sometimes got the best of them, neither of them would ever say no. One of them was in the mood and then the other always got the other in the mood fairly quickly. “I want to know what else you’re into... like wildest things.”

“Hm. Sounds like a conversation over a blunt, hm?” Harry and Y/N had only smoked together 3 times but it really was nice. Sex was a bit wilder too. They let down their inhibitions and generally had a lot dirtier things come out of their mouths during so he figured it would be a good conversation to have over smoking. Y/N perked up, and Harry laughed. His girl did quite like it. “I’ll tell you some wild things, dirty ones. But I need to be high to not be a little shy about it.” It was understandable though. The both of them were very much open but sex was their golden area. It only took a few minutes before Y/N was back on his lap, sitting with her thighs over him now. Harry took a hit, letting it settle for a moment before breathing it out. He swore, there was some kind of kink he had for Y/N when she smoked because it always looked incredibly sexy.

“Alright, princess.” He settled in. “You want to know kinks? Or fantasies? We both know I’m a very dirty man.”

Perks of dating Harry meant good quality weed and pre rolled joints and blunts. Y/N was pretty good at rolling herself. It was Y/N’s biggest vice next to sex. She watched as he lit the blunt, taking a few hits of it before handing it to her. Y/N breathed in the smoke, holding it in her lungs for a moment before letting it out. It truly was one of the most relaxing feelings, especially someone like her who seemed to be tense all the time without even realizing it.

“Mhm, anything you’re willing to tell me.” She said and took another hit, feeling herself relax even more. Her filters were going away, her mind more open to creativity as well. “You are a dirty man, my dirty man though. Always know what I want somehow.”

“Hm. It’s weird that we haven’t had this conversation before now but, we are just starting off, huh?” Harry thought out loud. “It feels a lot longer. I dunno, I just feel like I know you.” He still had so much more to figure out about her though. “Hm. Okay... I have a kink for public stuff.” A bold beginning. “Like... when I played with you at the club? That was one of the hottest things.. I like the danger. People may see. It’s so hot. Like, head or fucking in the car. Dressing room or bathroom sex. Fingering under a table. That shit really gets to me.” He cleared his throat, taking the blunt from her again. “I really like messy. Know you know that but. When it’s really hot and dirty, lots of cum and all of that. I dunno why it gets me off. Spit. That’s beyond sexy to me.” He was trying to think of more but there was a lot. “I like spanking you. Being in control. That’s the hottest thing to me, I think. You trusting me with being in charge and being able to tell how much you can handle. That’s so good. When you get a bit sassy and I spank you? I’d like you to be a lot more bratty sometimes so I can really spank you. Make you melt.”

Y/N listened to him intently, admiring him with hooded eyes. He really was kinky, but it wasn’t anything Y/N felt was wild. It was perfect for someone like her who loved being dirty and really letting go during sex.

“It’s good we are talking about this because sometimes I have these moments where you’re fucking me so good that I like... get into this headspace where I would legit do anything you asked. Think it’s called subspace? I did research on it the other day.” It was one of the hottest things she felt like she could do. It made him hot and that fueled her even more. “I like all of those things. Very much so.” Y/N said with a nod, taking the blunt from him once again. Even just talking about sex got her in the mood. “Did you know I can squirt?” She asked with a smirk, taking another hit from the blunt while she watched his reaction. “It kind just happened one time when I was getting off with a vibrator, I tease the fuck out of myself all day... it was like this one really sensitive part of my clit and it hurt a bit but in a good way, and it felt like I was going to wee but it just fished out and I was so in shock I couldn’t register that I had actually done it.” She spoke in her slow and raspy voice. “Could have phone sex or FaceTime sex as well... when you’re away though, not yet. While you’re here I want to have fucking me till I cry.” Y/N really was a whore for Harry, she couldn’t believe the extent that she would go for him but she liked that she felt comfortable like that. “Be careful what you wish for...” she said when he said he wanted her to be more bratty.

“You can? Well... s’my mission now to get you squirting.” Oh, 100%. Y/N would be getting the bed all messy and that was that. It was a hot thing he hadn’t known she was able to do but was about to make sure it happened very soon. He was also very happy about being able to get her to subspace. It was beyond hot in his opinion because she opened herself up to him and gave him exactly what they’d both needed. Harry control, and her loss of it. “I will definitely be getting you into that space more often. I love making you over sensitive too. When your legs shake and you tell me to stop but you don’t mean it. Or when you can’t even get words out and just sounds. That’s amazing.” He sighed thinking about said things. It was lovely. “However, I am aware of what I’m wishing for. I’ll give you hints when I want it though. You’re usually such a good girl for me. I will definitely be ducking you until you cry tonight. The only tears I want are tears of pleasure and happiness.” He stated. “How do you feel about the other type of sex.” Harry wiggled his brows playfully. God, he was a slut for some ass but he knew it was a hard limit for some. “And about me watching you get off. Cause that’s something hot I’d like to see.”

“You’re quite good at it... I tried to hold myself back from falling completely into it because we hadn’t had a proper conversation about it. But now that you’re aware, I can go all in.” Y/N hummed, “didn’t want you to be caught off guard.” Y/N explained farther knowing that Harry was more than capable of coaching her through her subspace. She whimpered at his words, beyond ready for him to fuck her till she was crying. “Anal? I’ve never actually done anal.” Y/N said honestly, “but if I’m going to do anal with anyone it’d be you... also wouldn’t mind if you wanted me to return the favor.” She had to offer because he probably wouldn’t ask on his own. Harry was quite a dominant person naturally, but even the most dominant people needed a break sometimes. “We’ll get a vibrator and I’ll get off for you.” Y/N started, “you like when I’m all whiney and begging to cum and I usually can cum multiple times with a vibrator and fuck—” she really did miss it. “My fingers are great, but yours are far better. You’re just far better in general. A vibrator is a whole other animal, can just sit back and watch it do what you do to me.”

“Yeah? That sounds so fucking good though, baby.” Harry was beset drooling at the thought. His Y/N cumming over and over... that was a fantasy all in itself. She looked so pretty when she was cumming but to sit back and watch her. “Got to get you a nice vibrator then. Thinkin’ a nice pink? Know that you’d put it to use. Get money's worth.” God, he was obsessed with her. There was just that intense attraction there that had him wrecked every time. She got him good every single time she begged or whimpered or asked for her ‘daddy’... yeah. It was bad. “We can try it. M’not sure if I’d like it or not but for both parties we can.” He shrugged. Open to anything. That’s how he liked it. “But I’m obsessed with the thought of my cum inside both of your holes. That’s so hot to me. Erotic. Think it’ll take some getting used to, but we’re both dirty fucks.” He noticed that she was squeezing her thighs together. “Hm. Do you want to touch yourself while we talk, angel? Can just take off those shorts and do it in your panties.”

Y/N felt her pussy throbbing a bit, desperately needing relief but she was enjoying the conversation. She liked the tension, liked being teased though she would say she hated it till the cows came home. Harry knew just how to press her buttons though.

“Can I?” She asked softly, looking at his eyes to make sure he wasn’t just saying that to see what she’d say. Y/N did have a massive kink for people watching her, only when she was people she trusted like Harry. Once she got confirmation from him she went to slide the shorts off, relieving some nice lacy red panties she had on underneath. “You’ll see the rest of this later.” Y/N smiled at him, shifting so her legs were a bit more spread and so she could use her right hand to rub over herself with slow and teasing movements. “We can try anything really... any ideas you have, let me know. Really. There are very few limits.” Y/N told him, letting out a small sigh of relief at the feeling of her fingers gliding over her pussy.

“I can tell that. You’ve got me very intrigued with what else your own fantasies are.” There was something erotic about her laying on his lap and her hand between her thighs. She was needy for touch and Harry knew that. She always got impatient when it came to that. “You’re so open, just like me. A whole world of possibilities. That’s what makes us so dangerous.” His hand settled on her belly, rubbing circles into it. He adored giving her any type of attention, but it was different when it came to her rubbing off on his lap. “Trust me. There’s a whole lot I want us to do. Want to fuck you on a plane. Make you cum with people in the room. Have you squirt all over the floor. Finger fuck you in that same club. Want to finish what I started. Tell me though.” He really wanted to know. “What are your deepest and darkest fantasies? The dirtier the better.”

A moan left her lips as he told her all the things he’s got planned for them, feeling herself get even more slick than she was. “Always knew you were a kinky bastard, but I didn’t think you’d be like this. I love it.” Y/N really had thought about what Harry would be into. She’d just about imagined everything under the sun, but her mind sort of drew a blank when it came to telling him. “My deepest darkest fantasies?” Y/N hummed, slowly circling over her clit. “You know I used to get off to the thought of you? Like that was the one thing that was guaranteed to make me cum.” She admitted, knowing he would like hearing it. It would blow up his ego even more.

“I thought about all kinds of things... always thought you’d be the type to fuck me when I’m on my period. Also thought about you inviting your friends over to watch us... quite like the idea of you watching me fuck a girl— but only if you’d want to watch. I’d be too jealous to let her touch you. I thought about a lot of the things you mentioned actually. Kinda like the idea of us filming ourselves and watching it back.”

Harry’s ego was beyond blown. She got off to him before he had even met her? That was the ultimate ego boost. He was thriving right now, knowing that he was the source of her orgasms. She had been liking him since she was younger and now got the real thing.

“Hm. Yes to both of those. Little bit of blood doesn’t scare me. Certainly won’t stop me taking your pussy. That’s when you’re especially horny got it.” He wasn’t squeamish when it came to that. “Fuck. You’d do that, baby? I would love to see that. All of those. People watching us.. you’d make such a pretty show. Especially if we could get you squirting... you’re such a gorgeous picture when you’re fucked out. Needy little cockslut when it comes down to it.” His cock was throbbing. Holy shit, he loved those ideas. “As for you fucking a girl... i’d be very interested. I don’t need to touch her. God... the idea of pounding into you while you’ve got your tongue in pussy... jesus.” He took a second to groan, leaning his head back. Yeah. That was some good shit. “We can film whenever you want. Got our phones, can attach it to the tv to see it. You need to see how desperate you get and how hot it is.”

Listening to him speak was already doing a lot for her, she loved how his voice made her react and it was even better when he was saying such dirty things and she had her hand on her pussy. “Yeah?” She sighed out, adding a little bit more pressure to her clit. “I can tell you like those ideas.” She could feel his cock hardening beneath her. Y/N was taking subtle and slow deep breaths, teasing the shit out of herself and trying to stay as focused as she could. The combination of being high and being horny really fucked her up. “Is it really that bad?” She blushed, nuzzling her face in his neck though she was smiling. “You just get me so riled up, just want to cum for you. It’s always the worst too because you tease me so well and it tests my patients because I barely have any as it is..” Y/N moaned, “I’m such a whore! I always need to fucking cum and you make it so hard!” She pouted.

“You cum a lot. I love it so much. It is really that bad but it’s absolutely a good thing. I want you to be dirty for me. You want my cock and tm fingers and my mouth a lot but it’s relaxing for me too, sweetheart.” Harry cooed. God, he had become a lucky bastard. Y/N was dirty and sweet and made him insane. The best type of person. “Love that you know you’re a whore for it too. So refreshing. Don’t even try and deny it to me, just know that you are.” Y/N was a whore though. In a good way. She wanted it often and thoroughly and wasn’t ashamed to ask for cock when she was really needing it. They’d been properly dating for a month but he was slowly realizing that this girl was the one he wanted forever. That alone had him even more focused on learning her pleasure. This wasn’t a fling.

“It’s pretty hard to deny considering how often I ask you to fuck me. I just own it. Know it turns you on.” Y/N really did know what buttons of his to press, glad that he too was open with her about what he wanted and when he wanted it. Harry was such a private person to the world, but to her he bored it all. It made her feel special, which only added to how horny she was. “I like when you make orders, my pussy throbs every time. I really like when you go all daddy on me and give me permission to do certain things you know I’m holding back on doing. I like when you get that roughness in your voice and your accent goes really northern.” Y/N’s eyes rolled back a bit at the thought combined with the feeling of her fingers against herself. She had been going at it for more than half of their conversation, she pulled her fingers out and brought them to her mouth. “This what you rave about, huh?” She smirked, pointing out his obsession. Y/N really liked the sensation of sucking on fingers but also getting her fingers sucked on. It was a win win really.

Harry loved when she got dirty like this. Eventually they wouldn’t even have the weed to have them like this, he had a feeling. But it felt so natural between them. He wanted to have this all the damn times. The intimacy between them.

“Fuck, yeah. That’s what I love. You taste so good. Get high off of it. Makes me crazy, I just want to taste it all the fucking time.” His eyes were dark with lust as she sucked on her fingers, finally feeling what he did. “Like when I boss you around, huh? When I tell you to get on the bed or bend over? Get your pussy all wet when I tell you you’re being a good girl and just m’gonna fuck your cunt until you’re a sobbing mess.” That was the goal, ultimately. To have Y/N writhing on the bed, eyes crossed with pleasures he was giving her.

Y/N giggled, a giddy bubbling up at his compliment about her pussy. She had been eating lots of fruit, her favorite were all the different melons, strawberries, and kiwi. Ironic, she knows, but it was really good. “It is really good... I get it now.” She hummed after pulling her fingers out from her mouth. “Yes, daddy. I love it.” Y/N purred, shifting in her seat once again. “What do I do that drives you crazy, hmm?” She asked, “I want to have fun making you all frustrated too, daddy.” Y/N confessed though she knew that would only get him harder. He had wanted her to be more bratty and bratty she would be. She just needed a better tool kit.

“All of it. I love when you wear my shirts. When you give me those little pouty eyes. It’s so hot. Acting innocent while you’re touching my cock, like you don’t know what you’re doing. But on the other side... when you’re dirty and don’t care. Just let go and let us both be filthy.” He hummed. “I love when you whine at me. When I’m fucking you hard and all you can get out are those little ‘uh’s and they go high pitched. I love making you lose control.” He did. Y/N getting unhitched was a turn on for him. “I love when you come and crawl in my lap and talk to me but you’ve got that look. When you know you want to fuck but don’t want to say it out loud so you grind a little bit and pout until I turn you over.” He had a whole list, truly. “Hm.. when you wear those tops that showcase your tits— like the dress that night. When you show off your curves because I’m weak when it comes to you. Those red heels you have.”

Harry really did seem to have a mental list, it was like he was reading right off of it. She felt a cheeky smile creeping up on her face, knowing exactly what he was talking about when he mentioned all those little things she did. Y/N was just glad they worked effectively because that was always her intention.

“Good to know my methods are working.” She teased, keeping her hands on his chest how they were this whole time. They were building up tension, so much so that they hadn’t even kissed this whole time. It must have been an hour that they were sitting here like this. “Red heels huh? That one caught me.” Y/N said, passing the blunt for him to take a few hits. “I can't believe you remembered them..” She continued thinking about how she could bring them back. “Reckon I could pull them off in a naughty school girl outfit.. what would you do if I turned up here looking like that?”

“Fuck me... seeing you in that? Probably would cum in my pants.” Harry groaned. Yes, he wasn’t even kidding. Y/N would truly get him if she did that to him. That was asking for disaster on his part. Or a beautiful Thing, in Y/N’s case. “What would you do, angel? Come in and ask for some extra credit, hm?” He could totally be down for some role play. His acting stuff had given him a large amount of courage when it came to that. “Come in to suck my cock? Or perhaps offer up that pussy of yours for me...” He murmured. Yes. Yes, he would love that.

He took a few more hits, before taking a hand and running it up and down the shirt. From where her cunt started to between her tits, he was tracing it up and down as a tease. “What else would you want to play as?”

Y/N smiled triumphantly, “yes sir, I really need an A.” Y/N spoke, already putting on a different voice for the sake of the role. Harry would look damn good in a tie, he could even use it on her. She swore her head was spinning at the mere thought. She’d live out all her favorite fanfics like this. “Could do doctor and patient.. could do prince and maid..” Her mind wondered for a moment. “Officer Styles sounds hot.” Y/N smirked, taking the blunt from him once again. “Also sort of like the idea of you being merciless one night. Obviously I consent to it now and what not, we can go over safe words and stuff.. but in theory.” Y/N began, “could just properly dominate me, like completely. If you’re ever in that mood. If it was random for me? That’d be so hot.” All these fantasies floated through Y/N’s mind on the regular, she really wanted to try everything they’d been talking about. They couldn’t obviously try it all in one night, no they were brainstorming for months ahead of time. That within itself was already getting her hyped. Her birthday was coming up as well. She was curious to see what he would have in store.

“All of those... we could do them all. Trust me, I know we will have the best time doing it too.” Harry knew that. Y/N would be the best possible role play partner when it came down to it. He had a feeling she could act incredibly well. “I’ve never had that sort of trust with someone before. You know? S’good to me that we do. I would love to try that especially. A day where I’m relaxed though. Wouldn’t want to go off the rails and really hurt you.” He had such a temper on him. Most people didn’t see it but he did. “I’m genuinely ready for anything. I want to try everything with you. You’ve made me so happy, my angel. Swear that my cock jerks every time I think about you. Wanna know though... When did you start getting off to the thought of me? What did you think about?”

Y/N did trust Harry, with anything. It was really important to her that they both had a mutual understanding. Their communication skills were great and obviously the two of them had only really been together for a month, but she had a feeling that even in their bumps in the road they’d get past it.

“You’re too kind.” She smiled fondly at him, nearly slipping up there and telling him she loved him. Y/N found herself in that state constantly, wanting to say ‘I love you’ but always being afraid that it was far too early for that. “When I started? Really young.” Y/N blushed, “I remember I once read this like, fan fiction blurb thing about you and I was like... what is this feeling.” She said biting her lip. “Full on sexual awakening because of you... now your ego is gonna grow five sizes.” It was true though she couldn’t lie, he probably didn’t realize how many girls felt the same way. “I really just thought about being close to you.. having your hands on me. Pictured you eating me out, me riding your cock, and you fucking me doggy style. Definitely the most popular thoughts.”

Holy shit. Harry had literally been her sexual awakening? She had joked about it before but, to know it was real was oddly arousing and pleasing to the ego. He wanted to know more but was In shock.

“Fuck. You really did?” He whispered, sliding his own hand down to her cunt and pressing over the fabric. “Sit in bed and rub your precious little clit while thinkin’ about me, baby?” Y/N had him going. He loved that. Harry was the one she had always wanted sexually and that was relieving. He couldn’t believe it. “Used a vibrator... your fingers. Anything else, my sweet girl? I want all the details. You don’t know how hot it is to me. Not a clue.” He felt like he could burst. Pressing his hand over her pussy, he could feel the lace of the panties dampen. Her hips moved up to his hand and he snickered, pressing down right over her entrance.

Y/N jumped at the touch, having waited for him to touch her since he had gotten home really. “Y—yeah, I did.” She spoke softly, feeling her body melt into his properly. Y/N was really fucking high and really fucking horny. Her mind was cloudy and she was ready to tell him anything he wanted to hear. “a pillow.” She told him, trying to remember if there was anything else but it was really only ever those three things. Y/N wasn’t really one to try the shower head method, she felt like it didn’t really work for her. Y/N managed to learn a lot about her body fairly quickly. “Sometimes I’d just... play one of your interviews and just zone out and listen to you talk while I was playing with myself.” She told him, feeling her breath become choppy once again. Y/N whined as he pressed down against her, feeling super needy now that he had given her a little taste.

“My sweet, dirty girl. Fuck me... can’t believe how filthy you truly are. Sat there and humped over your pillow while listening to my voice? Look at you.” Harry groaned. Her body moved up to try and get more of his fingers. It was a fun time. Finger fucking Y/N was amazing. She provided him with every bit of sexual need he wanted, being whiny and pressing up because she just wanted more. And then she would whimper for her daddy and hold his wrist, hump his hand. Make him stay still for a moment while she did so. And then Harry would take the control back. Y/N needed him to take over most of the time.

Yep. Harry was never letting her go.

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

[part 7]

A/N: AHHHHH the next part is the last part so we’re a bit emotional... We enjoyed writing these too so much so please, feel free to send in ideas for blurbs! - n + d

let us know what you think!

masterlist

#writing #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles #harry writing #jarofstyles

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haro-whumps · 4 years ago

Text

Group Whumpees 14: Headway

CW: slavery, multiple whumpees, aftermath of abuse, property destruction, migraine, actually a pretty fluffy chapter all things considered

Tag List: @bleeding-demon-teeth @theycomeinthrees‌ @redwingedwhump @whimperwoods @inpainandsuffering @whole-and-apart-and-between @whump-whump-whump-it-up @whumpingupastorm @newandfiguringitout @lonesome--hunter @looptheloup @icannotweave @deluxewhump @whumping-every-day @yeet-me-out-a-window @what-a-whumpy-world @burtlederp @swordkallya @finder-of-rings @fairybean101 @adventuresofacreesty @arlennil @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @lumpofwhump @thatsthewhump @pinkdiamondprince @shameless-whumper @whump-only @kiretto-laorentze @eatyourdamnpears @whumpzone @bluebadgerwhump @fanastywhump @jo-castle @muffindaddy @whumpsy-daisies

Please let me know if you were not alerted or if you asked to be added to the tag list and I missed you, tumblr’s been messing up badly lately.

Masterlist

Nyla was… conflicted.

But it didn’t do her any good to be conflicted, so she put on her smile, fastened her shoes, and got to work.

Master had been very generous the day before, giving them a truly absurd amount of time to just sit and relax--threat of ghosts notwithstanding. But now it was time for her to resume her routine, as much of it as she still had.

And, since they’d been preoccupied with ghosts, or non-ghosts, or whatever it was Greyson had seen and Master Galo had dealt with, that meant Master Galo’s “crash course on queerness” needed to happen this afternoon. Which, hm, well, it was rather unreasonable to be nervous about it, right? Master was kind, and the last gathering had been a net positive. Maybe it was just because it was something to look forward to, and Nyla was nervous about things to look forward to.

Also there was that dumpster out front and Nyla wasn’t sure what it was for (perhaps another volley with the art pieces?), but she would deal with that when Master ordered her to.

She was passing by the front door when it opened and her heart leapt into her throat. She whirled, stepping back, but a familiarly massive outline stepped in and she relaxed, smile turning a little less forced.

“Welcome home, Master,” she greeted, kneeling as she took his extended hand and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. He was damp with sweat and smelled like cut grass and warm air. “Did you enjoy your volunteer service?”

“Yeah; it’s gorgeous out. Partly cloudy and kinda hot, perfect early summer day.” Master Galo pushed his wet hair away from his face, Nyla watching the way his arms flexed and moved and observing her own lack of fear response.

Don’t think about it.

“I’m starving though; any idea when lunch is?”

“Apologies, Master, but it won’t be ready for another half-hour yet,” Nyla said, knowing Sasha had only just gotten it in the oven. Her smile tugged at the corners of her eyes, face tight.

“Sweet! Enough time for a shower then,” Master Galo said with a bright smile, loosening some of Nyla’s nerves.

Nyla gave a short bow, hands clasped in the folds of her apron skirt, and took a deep breath as she rose back up, watching Master Galo’s back as he climbed the steps two at a time. Alright then. (He really did have a nice back) Alright then.

Do your job, Nyla, focus.

It’d be easier if she had anything to focus on. She almost wished Master Galo would host something, bring over guests or Guests of his own. Something Nyla could be active for, something that would require planning and management and preparation.

But it wasn’t her place. Master Galo would do as Master Galo pleased and she would facilitate where she could and be good and patient and pleasant and useless if Master wanted her to be because it was fine, it was fine.

“You were right,” Nyla said, voice quiet and weirdly flat for her. Evan looked up at her inquisitively, a winter boot balanced on his good thigh and a polishing rag in hand. “We’re entirely out of things to do.”

Evan snorted. “Told you.” He waved the boot good-naturedly, though smug as a cat,” I mean, c’mon Nyla, it’s barely even summer.”

“I’m bored--I’m, stir-crazy,” she whispered, ridiculously daring but if she didn’t complain to somebody she was probably going to explode.

“I think Greyson is the only one who isn’t--or, well, I mean, there was that whole thing yesterday…” Evan trailed off, and Nyla chanced a small, barely-audible groan.

“What am I supposed to do?” she lamented, and Evan carefully scooted himself sideways, making room for her on the boot bench.

“Come sit and be bored with me. I’m always down to complain about things, and hearing you go at it is pretty new.” He patted next to him, and Nyla glowered at the clean, unassuming wood before plopping down next to him. She huffed, lifting up the hem of her dress and pulling a loose threat taut so she could snap it.

“I just wish he would give us tasks. I wish we’d had the… talk, this morning.”

“Yeah.” Evan handed her the matching boot to his own and she diligently started polishing, feeling instant relief at having something to do with her hands. “Waiting for it… sucks.”

Nyla felt a strange little curl of emotion in her and nudged him with her elbow. “Well, you would know better than I.”

“Hey!” Evan gasped, looking at her in honest shock before laughing, open mouthed and still surprised, and Nyla smiled. “So now little miss perfect is going to scorekeep?”

“Little Miss Perfect, I like the sound of that.”

“We should bore you shitless more often,” Evan said, leaning forward with playful curiosity dancing across his features.

“Don’t get used to this,” Nyla said, turning up her nose and deliberately sitting with pristine posture. “I’m just having a psychotic break real quick and then I’ll be back to normal.”

Evan laughed, and she smiled, a pang of pain shooting behind her eyes as she did but she was having a nice time, so she smothered any wince before she made it. “Well I better take advantage of it while I can, then.”

The sound of the water shutting off had both their heads snapping upwards, despite the fact that neither of them could see through the ceiling, and Nyla’s perfect smile was back in place, tension in her temples. “...It seems you may have to wait,” Nyla stated, setting down the boot and brushing out her apron, gathering herself. She quickly finger combed her hair, smoothed down her apron once again, and Evan caught her around the wrist.

“You okay?” he asked. Ah, she’d fiddled too much.

“Just nervous, I suppose. Nothing that won’t be resolved after lunch.”

Evan nodded slowly, letting her go, and she changed her perfect slave smile to her “don’t worry the family, I’m fine” smile. Like usual, he seemed to buy it, and Nyla slipped her perfect smile back in place with a whirl of skirts and went to serve Master Galo lunch.

He’d demanded that Grey ‘take it easy’ yet again, and Nyla decided, rather selfishly, that that meant she would take his duties as butler from him that day. But then, was it truly selfish, when Sasha would just as likely faint if she was asked to, and Evan couldn’t walk on that leg of his? Lilah was able to do it, sure, but old habits die hard and Nyla couldn’t help but want to keep their littlest as far away from their owner as often as possible. Even though this one was kind.

Then the five of them were crowded together on a couch, Master Galo standing with his laptop hooked up to the TV in front of them. Nyla subtly covered Sasha’s hand with her own, where it gripped her sleeve, and Lilah leaned against Greyson with her legs hooked over Evan’s good one.

“Alright, so, queer shit 101,” Master Galo said with a bright smile to the group, hands propped on his hips. “I am going to attempt to keep things basic while still covering the bases, but please ask questions if you have them. In the great words of someone older than me, I don’t know what you don’t know. And I also don’t know what misconceptions you might have, though given Auntie Bethany, I can make some more or less solid guesses. So, without further ado.”

Master Galo hit a key on his keyboard and the slide changed, “Queer! Our first term, the word used for the entire community of people who are neither cis nor straight. In recent years people who wish to gatekeep, meaning to exclude people from our community, have voiced backlash against the word ‘queer’ as being ‘too-inclusive’ and have recruited well-intentioned but ultimately inexperienced youths to cycle their rhetoric. That is bullshit. Queer is our word, it is a good word, just because ignorant and hateful people are bigoted against us does not mean it isn’t our word, and it’s an all-inclusive label for anyone and everyone who finds their home among us.”

Lilah tentatively leaned forward, hand extended, and Master Galo pointed to her with arched eyebrows. It wasn’t as threatening as Nyla might have once considered it. “What’s ‘cis,’ sir?”

“That is on my next slide, I promise. For right this current moment, just know that queer is the big main umbrella word for everyone. It covers all the bases, all your base are belong to us.” Lilah nodded as Master Galo chuckled at his own joke. Nyla didn’t get the reference, but she recognized that he’d made one.

“Cool, so, you will see many squares with lots of stripes throughout this presentation. You don’t have to memorize anything, I just think they spruce up the slides, but for reference this one is the queer flag. You may or may not be familiar with the rainbow flag, that one’s a little different, we’ll get to that.”

Master Galo flipped slides. “Transgender!” he announced happily, a blue, pink, and white flag on the TV behind him. “You have seen this flag on various articles of clothing and buttons I own. And stickers. In general I have this flag around a lot, but! That is because, I am trans. You know this,” he said, making a broad gesture towards their group.

“The word ‘transgender’ effectively means ‘anyone who isn’t cis,’ and yes I will explain. So! Say there is a little baby, and the midwife or doctor lifts the little newborn body up to examine, and says ‘she’s a girl!’ Now, say, years down the road, that person thinks of herself and says ‘yeah sure I’m a girl.’ That is what’s called ‘cisgender,’ when the gender you were assigned at birth matches up with your own sense of self. Now, say that same baby grows up, but says ‘actually, I’m not a girl.’ That would make that person transgender.

“I am what’s called ‘binary trans;’ I was assigned female at birth, grew up, discovered I was actually a dude, and here we are. Thus, I am called a transman. The same thing happens for transwomen, but in the opposite direction. Transmen are men, transwomen are women, but some people are neither a guy or a girl. They are what is called,” Master Galo switched the slide.

“Nonbinary!” Nyla squinted, tentatively raising her hand, which Evan and Lilah were also doing. “Okay wow, lots of questions, Nyla?”

“I… apologize, sir, but I’m not sure I understand. They’re not a man or a woman?”

“Correct.”

Nyla shared a quick, anxious glance with the rest of her family.

“Okay, don’t worry,” Master Galo said, holding up his hands with a small chuckle, “I will explain. First, Evan and Lilah, was that your question too? Yeah, figured as much, okay. So, I have found the easiest way to visualize nonbinary genders is like this: Say men are blue, and women are red. Or pink, but that’s just a light shade of red, so, anyway, color theory is not today’s presentation. Back on track! If you’re imagining gender like a color wheel, that means some people are gonna be purple, right?”

Nyla nodded slowly. Okay, that made sense. A combination of traits both male and female.

“But, on that same vein, not all other colors are purple. Sometimes colors are green, or yellow, or orange. Men and women do make up the majority of the human population, but not all of it. There’s lot of ways to have a gender, and none of them are wrong.” Lilah raised her hand again and Master Galo pointed.

“How does that--I mean, if you have a vagina or a penis, shouldn’t that be, I mean, hard? To…”

“Okay, okay, good point. Very good point Lilah, I jumped the gun a little. Backing up a bit!”

Master Galo clapped his hands lightly, no force or noise to the motion, and Nyla had the brief thought that the gesture made him look somewhat teacherly. Which made sense, given… everything happening, but there was something distinctive and pleasant about that thought. Hm.

She wasn’t gonna worry about that. Focus.

“So, biological sex and a person’s gender are two seperate things. Often, they go hand in hand. That’s where cis people come from. However, while biological sex is, y’know, biological, gender is a social construct. Which means, it has more to do with perception and sense of self, and nothing to do with your actual physical body. So, since this is the 100 level course, I could frame it as, gender’s in your head and sex is in your genitals, make sense?”

Another round of slow, wary nods.

“It’s technically a little more complicated than that, but we’re not gonna get into that today.”

Evan raised his hand again, and Master Galo pointed at him with a smile.

“So… Sir, do you, have a dick?”

Master Galo’s lips instantly folded in and he raised a hand to cover his mouth, his shoulders shaking a little, and Nyla felt a spike of anxiety, crown of her head feeling taut. But it was laughter, a wheezing chuckle escaping her master when he said, “Uhm.”

He took a deep breath, “So, no. I do not. I don’t really want or need bottom surgery and am comfortable with my genitals the way they are. Bottom surgery is not a necessary component of transitioning, and some people, like myself, don’t have it done. However,” Master Galo continued with a rush of air, “it is generally considered extremely rude to ask a trans person about their genital structure unless you have the explicit intention of sleeping with them. I am aware you meant nothing by it!” Master Galo rushed, hands held up as Evan began to flounder. “You weren’t intentionally being rude, it’s chill. Just, for future reference, if you ever meet another trans person, that’s on the list of questions you don’t ask.”

Master Galo cleared his throat, looking a little red, but in good humor about it. He turned back to his screen with a, “Now, Lilah, you bring up an interesting point.” Master Galo flipped forward a few slides, to a screen with a yellow square that had a purple circle in the middle of it.

“Intersex! Sex, like gender, is not actually straightforward. There are many ways to be intersex, ranging from genital structure to chromosomes to secondary sex characteristics. But ultimately sex, like gender, is on a spectrum. Just because the majority of people fall easily into little categories of, urg, ‘biologically male’ or ‘biologically female,’ which for the record are not phrases you should… use, but since this is an intro to queer shit I’m making this as understandable as I can. Anyway.” Master Galo seemed to gather his thoughts. “Right! People fall into one category or the other most of the time, but not all of the time! And the ‘not all of the time’ people are intersex. Some intersex people do not feel that their biology automatically makes them queer, and do not percieve themselves to be part of the queer community. Others take comfort and community among us, so it’s always up to the person.

“Anyway, flipping back a few slides, nonbinary! This is the umbrella term for everyone who does not fall completely into ‘100% a man’ or ‘100% a woman.’ There are many ways to be nonbinary, but for the record, many nonbinary people prefer to be referred to with they/them pronouns. Not all! But, like how men use he/him, or women use she/her, many nonbinary people are referred to with a singular ‘they.’ I am aware my aunt may have had grammar-based arguments complaining about nonbinary people and gender neutral language, but I promise the singular ‘they’ predates my aunt by multiple centuries.

“Genderqueer,” Master Galo said with another slide, “This one goes hand in hand with nonbinary. Effectively, it means ‘neither fully masculine nor fully feminine,’ and is, as the word ‘queer’ might suggest, an inclusive, broad term for people who don’t have a particularly hard line definition for their gender.

“Genderfluid, meaning that a person will shift between genders depending on the day. So like, some days this person would wake up and say ‘I’m a girl today,’ and other days ‘I’m a boy,’ and maybe some days they wouldn’t feel like either of those at all. Again, this varies from person to person, but the general idea is that they flow between genders.

“Agender, meaning they have no gender at all.”

Again, Nyla, Lilah, and Evan’s hands rose. Nyla was surprised to see that even Greyson’s hand lifted, if only a little, on that. Master Galo smiled with a huff, but Nyla didn’t feel threatened. “Let’s go with Greyson, yeah?”

“How would someone simply not have a gender, sir?”

“So, if we’re imagining genders as like a color wheel, agender would be like, white, blank. No color. No gender. People ask them ‘are you a guy or a girl’ and their answer is a flat out ‘no.’”

Nyla was struggling with that. Nyla was struggling with that one pretty hard. Her brain felt tight. She got the concept, but…

“Master?”

“Yes Nyla?”

“Would it be alright if we understood in theory but not in practice?”

“Yeah, this can be hard for people to wrap their heads around, mostly I just want to introduce you to the concepts. That’s perfectly reasonable Nyla.”

Nyla dipped her head in thanks, her family nodding as well. Master Galo flipped the slide.

“Neutrois. Hand in hand with agender, if we’re using the color thing then, like. If agender is white, then neutrois would be black. People who are neutrois might describe their gender as ‘null’ or ‘void’ and other descriptors of the like. Again, I just want to introduce you to the concept, you don’t need to be able to conceptualize it perfectly.

“Okay last one under the trans umbrella,” Master Galo said, “Bigender. Someone who is multiple genders simultaneously. So, for simplicity’s sake, you could say someone who is both a man and a woman at the same time.” Master Galo smiled at them. “There are many other genders people have, but again with this being the introductory course, I just wanted to hit the big ones. Any gender questions?”

Nyla tentatively raised her hand. Master Galo smiled at her, and his expression took the edge off her anxiety.

“So, we know you, had surgery on your chest, sir,” Nyla said, hoping she wasn’t being rude by bringing it up, “do nonbinary people also engage in,” she floundered, not sure what the word for it was, but she wasn’t going to ‘um’ or stutter (even if he’d said it was okay, she could do better, and she would).

“Some do,” Master Galo mercifully cut her off. “Some people are fine looking the way they do, or use cosmetics to accentuate certain features, and some receive surgeries. It all depends on personal comfort. And also sometimes to alter others’ perceptions, I knew someone who had no real issue with their chest but other people would assume they were a girl because of it and surgery was affirming and helpful with other people’s way of viewing them, which in turn lowered their discomfort.”

“And, sir?” Master nodded. “If a person’s name is, very feminine or masculine?”

“Most of us change our names!” he said brightly, “Like how I picked Galo for myself. Many nonbinary people will also change their names to something a little more ‘neutral.’ Again, not all though.”

Evan raised his hand that time. “You picked your own name, sir?”

“Yup! When I started to transition I changed my name. I should show you all the movie it came from sometime; it’s real fun you might enjoy it.”

“Sir?”

“Yeah, bud?”

“What was your name before Galo, sir?” Evan asked. Master Galo made an unidentifiable noise, but Nyla didn’t think that it was good. Her spine lengthened and her hand left Sasha’s on her arm to clench neatly in her lap.

“Sooo, you don’t get to know that,” Master Galo said, ducking his head with a slow gesture of his open palm towards Evan. “The name I had before Galo is what is called a ‘deadname,’ the name a trans person was assigned at birth that has since been put to rest. Again, I know you are being curious and I would definitely like to encourage you to continue asking questions, but, that’s another one of those questions you should not ask anyone who is not me. Asking for someone’s deadname is considered rude, and referring to someone by their deadname is extremely rude and actively malicious.”

“Sir, I wasn’t--”

“Easy, Evan, I know,” Master Galo said with a patient smile. “It’s good that you ask me these questions, and not someone else, because you’re learning, and I know you don’t mean any harm. But, in sum, the name I had before is not relevant, and it is not something to be shared. Any other questions at the moment? We’ve had good ones.”

A brief bout of silence, and Master Galo flipped the screen to the only flag Nyla did recognize.

“Onto sexual orientations! Sexualities, they’re called. You will probably recognize the gay flag, this is another one of those umbrella terms meaning ‘anyone who isn’t straight’ while also having the capacity to mean ‘someone who is exclusively attracted to their own gender.’ It is a term meant for everyone in the community, much the same way queer is. Yes, Evan?”

“Are you gay?”

“No, actually, I’m pretty much straight. I’m aware that men can be attractive but don’t really feel attraction to them.” Master Galo cocked his head. “You worded that kind of intensely there, you alright buddy?”

Evan was already stiff, and Nyla recognized the way his mouth twitched when he was biting down a snarl. “I’m fine.”

The lack of an honorific made the family tense, eyes on Evan because he was, like a moth to flame, doing something stupid again, but Master Galo either ignored it or didn’t notice.

“Cool. So, along with ‘queer community’ and ‘gay community,’ you may or may not have heard the phrase ‘LGBT.’ This stands for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender, and is sort of the most widely-in-use acronym for the queer community.

“Lesbians! What would the world do without them,” Master Galo said, flipping to a slide with lots of pinks and oranges. “Nowadays, lesbian is the word for women who are exclusively interested in other women, but historically it was used to describe any queer woman at all, back before bisexual really entered into people’s vocabularies. For the record: nonbinary people can be and often are lesbians. Anyone who has literally any ties to femininity and is attracted, more or less exclusively, to women and people with ties to femininity, counts as a lesbian.

“Bisexual! People who are attracted to 1. their own gender and 2. other genders. Sometimes it’s phrased as ‘attraction to men and women,’ which, for the record, is a fine way for you to conceptualize it here in the introductory course, but I want to be clear that bisexuality does and always has included nonbinary peeps.” Master Galo smiled. “Bixesual is a perfectly good and normal thing to be; there’s nothing wrong with it,” he said, and if Nyla had to guess she’d say he was deliberately not looking directly at any of them in particular.

“Pansexual! Hand in hand with bisexuality, pansexual people are attracted to others regardless of their gender. It can be difficult to distinguish between the two, but for some people the differences between sexualities are important. For some people, not so much, and they identify as bi and pan simultaneously. Again, we fall back on the ‘it all depends on the person’ idea. I will state that pansexuals are not attracted to everyone, they’re just attracted to every gender. Just because someone is of a certain gender doesn’t mean others won’t still find them ugly.

“Asexual! The umbrella term for people who don’t really feel attraction to other people, no matter the gender. We love respect cherish and support asexual people,” Master Galo said, oddly firm on that one. Lilah raised her hand.

“So, they just, don’t? Anybody? Sir?”

“Yeah, so, like, a straight man would only feel attraction towards women, and no attraction to men. A gay man would feel attraction to men, and no attraction to women. A bisexual man would feel attraction to men and women. And an asexual man would not feel attraction to either.”

Lilah nodded. “Okay, thank you sir.”

“However, ace--asexual--is an umbrella term. There are multiple ways to be asexual.”

Nyla frowned minutely, but then her smile was back in place. She wasn’t really sure how there could be multiple ways to not feel attraction to someone.

“There’s the spectrum of sex-positive, sex-neutral, and sex-repulsed asexuals. Sex-positive asexuals enjoy sex, the action, they just don’t think anybody’s hot. The activity is fun, but no one they look at hits that ‘oh hot I wanna have sex with them’ vibe. Sex-neutral asexuals don’t find anyone attractive, and don’t have any particularly strong feelings towards sex. It’s on par to like, going for a jog or having dinner together. Sort of a bland ‘whatever’ feeling. Sex-repulsed asexuals don’t find anyone attractive and do not, under any circumstances, want to have sex with anyone, ever. All of these are good and well! There’s no ‘wrong’ way to be asexual.”

“Next up we have grey-ace. 99% of the time, they don’t find anyone attractive, but every once in a blue moon they’ll see a person and go ‘oh hot.’ They are still asexual, they just have occassional feelings of attraction to seemingly random people. Or maybe they have a highly specific type! Again, depends on the person.”

“Last up for the ace umbrella, demisexual. Demisexual people are capable of feeling physical attraction, but only after a strong, meaningful, romantic bond has been formed. This is different than waiting in a relationship until you’re close. The person does not feel attraction, at all, until a committed bond has been formed.” Master Galo paused, letting them turn that over in their heads, but when no one asked any questions he flipped the slide once more.

“And wrapping up our crash-course on queer terminology, aromantic. Aromantic is similar to asexuality in all aspects, except that instead of talking about physical attraction, it’s about romance. Some people just do not feel the inclination to form romantic bonds with others. They still might, depending on the person, just like an asexual person still might engage in sexual activity, but the attraction isn’t there. They don’t see people and go ‘I’d like to see if this could work out as a romantic relationship’ they’re just in it for friends. Grey-romantic and demiromantic people are, again, much the same, but with romance, feeling that 99% or only gaining the capacity for a romantic relationship after a strong, meaningful, committed bond of friendship has been formed.”

Master Galo took a big breath. “Any questions?” he asked with a proud smile.

Nyla honestly felt like she had too much information rattling around in her brain to even begin formulating a question, but Evan raised his hand.

“I don’t mean to be rude, sir,” Evan said, sounding like he was struggling not to grit his teeth.

“I know. Go ahead.”

“So, since you’re a transman, and you’re straight, then you’re only attracted to women..?”

“Yep!”

“And then, if a woman is attracted to you..?” Evan trailed off.

“That would still be considered ‘straight’ attraction, yep. The woman in question might be straight, or bi, or pan, or maybe ace! It’s all up to her. But her attraction to me would be ‘opposite-sex attraction’ yeah.”

“Was that rude sir?”

“No, no, you’re good, bud. And now you know!”

“Thank you sir.”

“Of course! I’m glad you’re asking questions. Anyone else?”

Another beat of silence.

“Alright, cool, good talk team. To wrap it all up, there are all sorts of ways people can experience gender and attraction, and none of them are wrong. Everything I talked about today is good, natural, and worthy of respect. Go ahead and let me know if you ever have questions in the future, I’m perfectly willing to talk about it.”

He took in a deep breath.

“The queer community has long faced oppression on a global scale. However, many cultures saw queerness as natural and didn’t much question it until, ah, interlopers became involved, and rerouted the course of history. But regardless of acceptance or ostricization, all cultures have their own queer histories, their own words and perceptions.

“In recent years, and I mean really recent, queer people have started making great strides in changing legislation and public opinion of us towards the positive, though we still face a number of obstacles. You have probably noted that I am not fond of police. This is in no small part due to the fact that I am transgender. And then of course people like my aunt and various religious institutions will also condemn myself and my peers, due to malicious misconceptions or just straight up bigotry.

“So I understand why you all may… struggle, with this information, for a bit. But I assure you, nothing is as bad as my aunt made it out to be, and if you ever want to know more I’m happy to talk with you about it.” Master Galo beamed and propped his hands on his hips. “Which about wraps this up.”

The doorbell rang. Everyone, including Master Galo, tensed.

“I think I’ll answer that,” he said. “Uh, dismissed? No, wait, wait here, we’ve got a group project I wanna work on this afternoon.”

Nyla was not in a habit of thanking god for much of anything, but she thanked god for that. Finally, a task.

Master Galo made a pleased noise and a bit of chatter Nyla could identify as friendly, there was the sound of something heavy hitting the floor, then the door swinging closed.

She was on her feet and smiling when he returned, leaning his big arm on the doorway and looking happy. “Sweet, so, the stuff we ordered has started to arrive, which leads me to another thing I wanted to talk about!”

Master Galo rounded back in front of the couch where he’d been, clapping his hands together and smiling. Nyla tentatively sat back down. ‘So! I would first like to establish that I am not suggesting you break up your current sleeping arrangement. However, you’re not gonna be able to fit all the stuff you collectively ordered into that one room without it turning into a nightmare, so I’ve thought about it and it’s my idea that you all should have rooms that are your own space. Not to sleep in, obviously, just rooms that you can use to store your stuff and you can decorate them to your own interests and you’ll have a private area you can go to if you need alone time. Sound good?” Master Galo asked, looking to Nyla, to Lilah, scanning over the group.

“You are quite generous, Master,” Nyla said, but no, no, that wasn’t quite right, for him. “Thank you,” she tried again, simpler, far too rude for Mistress, but for Master…

He smiled at her, pat her on the head far too briefly, and said, “You’re welcome. Let’s go check out what arrived, yeah?”

All of Nyla’s dresses, the skirts and top Sasha had ordered from that company, and a couple of Lilah’s things were in the first two boxes, and Evan’s t-shirts and jeans were in the third. “Sorry Greyson, looks like your stuff isn’t here yet.”

Greyson nodded, outwardly impassive, and given that it had barely been his idea to order anything at all that made sense. Nyla and the others followed Master Galo to the basement, their Master helping Evan down and hastening the process, and showed them the rooms he’d selected for them. Nyla hesitantly stepped into “hers.”

It felt wrong. She’d cleaned and examined this room countless times before, but now, standing inside it felt incorrect.

The bed had been folded up into a couch, which was standard for the beds housed in the series of apartments in the basement. The sitting area and kitchenette that existed in the middle of these rooms were indicative that these were for long-term guests, not, not slaves. The closet, filled with more hangars than she remembered, the dresser, the small desk, they were for people, not Nyla.

Except, apparently, they were for Nyla now.

“Oh, shoot, that lock is totally broken,” Master Galo’s voice came from elsewhere in the apartments, “Here, go for this room, then, sorry I totally hadn’t noticed that earlier.”

A broken lock? It was something Nyla had failed to notice, too. Her heart rate accelerated and her head felt tight; Mistress would cane her for missing something so obvious, but she deliberately swallowed and took a deep breath. Master Galo was not Mistress. She couldn’t keep expecting him to act like her.

He was so much kinder. Gentle, and careful, with a sweet voice and warm hands that only ever touched her--

Nyla yanked a hangar off the closet’s bar with far too much force, utterly graceless, and it caused all the other hangars to clatter together and make a right ruckus. Her heart picked back up again, because she was clumsy, noisy, a fumbling little blushing nuisance! She unfolded her first dress and willed herself to remember that making noise was okay, it was allowed now, she could make noise and still be perfect, no one was mad at her, no one was going to come hurt her.

And where was her smile!?

She really was falling to pieces, she thought to herself, pulling another hangar off the rod properly and fitting another dress onto it. Smiling. She was smiling, she was grateful for this unexpected and unasked for privilege (weren’t they supposed to ask for things? Why was this happening unprompted?!), she was graceful and perfect and, fine. She was fine. Her temples felt tight, but she was smiling and composed and fine.

It really was satisfying to see her dresses hung up all neatly, though. When her skirts and sweaters and undershirts arrived, she’d be able to finish filling the closet, and it would look so neat and it would be hers and it was selfish, to be so vain and materialistic, but maybe since Master Galo had ordered it, that meant it was okay?

She rubbed at her right eye and stroked her hand down the material of the first dress, admiring the ruffles around the neckline and the neat, black stripes of the sewn-in green vest. She would get to wear that. She would get to wear all of them, with their pretty patterns and their pleated skirts and their ruffles and lace and bows.

It felt far too pretty for the likes of her.

She wished she knew how to properly show her Master gratitude.

She wanted, she--wanted. She didn’t want to be caned or cut or bleed or cry, but she wanted to do something, something physical, something to show just how much she appreciated everything he was doing for them, to make him happy, like he’d made her happy.

But what did a slave have to give, except her body and her service? He’d already made it clear that he didn’t want either of those, aside from her now mind-numbing chores, and that was hardly something to make him happy. More of just an expected base behavior out of her, out of all of them.

She didn’t know his favorite foods; Greyson never reported any particular signs of delight no matter what Sasha tried, at least nothing that stood out from his regular compliments. She didn’t have any way to engage with his hobbies. She couldn’t kneel at his feet and beg him to hurt her with her lips on his shoe. His base state of friendly and cheery made it impossible to tell what he liked best. The only real, solid thing she knew he liked was when they asked him for things, and it was the receiving of things that Nyla wanted to express gratitude for!

It was the weirdest, strangest, most unfamiliar form of frustration she’d ever felt. Maybe--maybe it wouldn’t count as Attending him if she offered a massage? Greyson was better at it than her, and she hadn’t had much practice in the last decade and a half aside from occasionally working a knot out of Sasha’s shoulder or soothing the nerves out of Evan or Lilah. But she’d been trained properly, and she could quickly skim an internet article sometime to refresh herself.

Oh but if Master Galo figured out she was trying to Attend him, even just a little, he might get mad, and she wouldn’t be able to handle that. She would just have to be extra-perfect for him. Sit and not kneel, smile, be unobtrusive but able to fulfil his every whim or need, maybe ask him for things? But what else could she possibly want that he hadn’t already given her?

She brushed down her apron and left “her room,” walking primly to the family bedroom and pulling out all the clothes from her drawer, which were smaller in number now that her other dress had been sliced open. She went ahead and grabbed Evan’s clothes too, and Master Galo was in the sitting area in the middle of “their rooms” when she walked back. She nodded to him, and he smiled at her before tilting his head and gesturing at the clothes in her arms.

“What’s that?”

“My clothes, as well as Evan’s, sir, from the shared dresser.”

“Oh, good memory,” he praised before returning to his phone, and she couldn’t help but flush faintly under his casual approval. She went into “Evan’s room” and found him sitting on the couch, elbow on his good knee and hands pressed together in front of his face. He looked mad.

“Are you alright?” she asked quietly, so faint ideally their Master would be unable to hear. He looked up at her, dark eyes glinting with what she just knew meant trouble, and hauled himself up onto his crutches. He made as though to walk past her, and Nyla turned in confused alarm, which morphed into full alarm when he closed the door.

“Evan! Master Galo is--”

“Right there, yeah I know,” Evan said, voice mercifully quiet even though he flipped the lock. Nyla could scream if she wasn’t rooted to the spot in shock. Evan took the clothes that were his and gave her a brief “thanks” before he threw them on the floor.

“Evan,” Nyla hissed in bubbling horror, staring at the rumpled fabric.

“Hey, it’s ‘my’ room, right?” Evan sneered as he sat back down with a heavy thump, wincing when he jostled his wound. “Which means I can make a mess of it if I want, right?!”

“Evan, these rooms are gifts--”

“That we didn’t fucking ask for. We’re supposed to ask, right?”

“He told us, it’s because we don’t have space in the main room for the things we did ask for!” Nyla hissed, “And keep your voice down!” She didn’t mention that she’d been having the same doubts. She was trembling, clutching her clothes to her chest. “I--I need to go. I need to finish putting my things away.”

She stepped away from him, needing to pause at the door to summon her smile, to suppress her wild shivers, to take a deep breath and gather herself, and when she flipped the lock she heard Evan call after her, “I’m sorry.”

She turned back again, carefully crafted smile slipping, and Evan had his face in his hand, the other clutching the edge of the cushion. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m just--sorry. I’m sorry Nyla.” He ran his fingers back into his hair and gripped, hard, pulling at his roots. “I’m sorry.”

Her shoulders dropped, chest squeezing, and she swaned over to him, dropping to her knees in front of him. He startled, letting go of his hair, and she reached up her free hand to cup his face. He closed his eyes as she leaned up and kissed his cheek, and nuzzled his face against hers as he pet a hand down her hair.

“Just try to work through whatever this is before you leave the room, okay?” she asked softly, trying to be gentle with him, to not get scared and frustrated like she normally felt when he got like this. Master Galo wouldn’t hurt him like Mistress did; she didn’t need to be scared, didn’t need to be frustrated with Evan because he had more time now. “Master Galo’s in the sitting area.”

“Yeah,” Evan answered her, finger combing his bangs to the side. “Yeah. Sorry. I will.”

She kissed his forehead as she stood, and was able to summon her smile much easier this time. She rubbed at her right eye, brushed down her skirt, and went back to “her room” to finish hanging up her clothes and arranging her underthings in the drawers.

When she finished, she skimmed her fingers over the dustless wood of the dresser. “Her” dresser. Pink with floral designs, old fashioned and expensive, an ‘antique’ that was as good as new. It was… surreal. She left the room, crossed to her Master, and slipped to her knees, then rump, to sit next to his feet. Her hands folded neatly in her lap, and she blinked away the weird feeling in her eye.

“Thank you, Master,” she said again, wishing she could say it better, express it better.

“Yeah, you’re welcome,” he said gently, leaning forward in his seat and petting his fingers through her hair. She allowed herself to tilt her head, eyes slipping closed, and she savored the touch. His knee was right there, it would be all too easy for her to lean in and lay her head against it. But no, no, she was better than that. He hadn’t expressed a desire for her to submit to him in that way and she was going to be perfect for him.

“Master,” she started, reminding herself that he liked questions, that technically all times were good times and she couldn’t pester him with too many, “is there a way you would like to be thanked? I am grateful, and want to show it to you properly.”

“No, Nyla, you don’t need to,” he said gently, and he sounded almost sad. “Just saying ‘thank you’ is enough.”

She tried not to feel disappointed. At the very least, she wouldn’t show it. “As you like, sir.”

The others joined them, Sasha sitting as close to Nyla as she dared, Greyson kneeling at Master Galo’s other side, Lilah sitting on the couch in a way that made them all panic slightly but reaped no consequences. When Evan joined them, a noticeable stretch of time later, Master Galo made no comment on his late appearance, only smiled and put his phone away.

“Great, you’re all here. So, about the project I mentioned. You may have noticed the dumpster out front. I would like everyone to please work together and move all of my aunt’s canes, chains, whips, restraints, muzzles, cages, knives, and the like into the dumpster. Anything she used with the purpose of hurting or humiliating you, I would like to see go. I’ve got a power drill and I’m gonna work on her, uh, dungeon, and rip up those D rings in the den and music room, but just, like. Anything you can think of. Anything used with the purpose of you guys’ pain. Get rid of it, please.”

Someday, Nyla would stop being surprised by all of Master Galo’s many surprises.

Even so, an order was an order, and like many of Master Galo’s commands she found this one easy enough to obey. Nyla rose with all her grace, curtsied, and walked a direct path up two flights of stairs to the fireplace in Mistress’s boudoir.

Mistress had never used the fire pokers on Nyla. Lilah, sure, Evan, occasionally, but Nyla had kept herself perfect, too perfect to burn. But the fear, the ever present knowledge that she could burn, at any moment, at her Mistress’s slightest whim, the moment she stopped being flawlessly, untouchably perfect, had kept her tense as a coiled wire. She stopped by the main floor’s fireplace and grabbed those pokers too, one set in each fist, and all too gleefully hoisted them into the dumpster out front.

She diligently visited every fireplace in the house, after that, removing everything that could and would have burned her, had she not kept herself perfectly poised on her self-made pedestal. Evan was in Mistress’s room, Lilah the den, Sasha the music room. Greyson, Nyla wasn’t sure where he’d gone, but wasn’t going to get bent out of shape over it. She rubbed her right eye, then temple, and returned to the basement.

Master Galo’s power drill was loud, making her wince and the space behind her eyes sting, but she entered the Punishment Room regardless. He’d collected a small pile near the door: the shackles he’d removed from their anchors in the wall, the thin mats Nyla was pretty sure were intended for yoga that had served as sleeping pallets to the two cells, the oil and wax sconces and dishes that had hung from the walls and ceiling. The wooden horse. All of the tools, the whips and floggers and knives. Nyla gathered up an armful, and Master Galo paused in his drilling to smile at her.

“Hey, thanks.”

“Of course, Master. Do you require any other assistance?”

“No, I think I’m good. Dismantling my evil aunt’s evil shit is kinda cathartic, really.”

Nyla bowed, and trotted back up the steps with her load of chains and whips and manacles. It was satisfying to hear them clatter down into the dumpster. She felt weird. Good?? Strange.

“Oh, are you hauling stuff for Master Galo?” Evan asked. Nyla nodded with an affirming noise. “Great, so he’ll stay down there. Lilah, hand me that cane, Grey, don’t throw that in yet.”

Nyla looked and saw that Greyson had brought the dog cages up from the utility room. Greyson cocked his head at Evan, but set them down on the drive. Evan, crutch under one arm and heavy, metal cane in his dominant hand, proceeded to beat the shit out of the cages.

The family mostly just stood there, and watched, as he reduced the cages to little more than messy heaps of broken wire. He was panting, hard, by the end of it, and tossed the cane into the dumpster.

“Did you reopen your--” Lilah asked, cut off by Evan’s, “I’m fine.”

“Okay, it just looks like you might’ve ripped a stitch out, from all’a that.”

“Even if I did, I wouldn’t have done any differently,” Evan said, laughing a little and pulling Lilah in for a hug. “Fuck, that felt really good. You guys should try that.”

“I think th-that’s a y-you thing,” Sasha remarked, and Nyla chuckled. Then giggled. She rubbed at her eye, and headed back inside to grab another armload from the basement. She got the wooden horse up under her arm and shimmy-stepped her way up, the thing large and cumbersome but she couldn’t wait to get it out of the house. Greyson helped her lift it into the dumpster, and Nyla grabbed a third round.

It was on her way back down to grab a fourth armful that the pain struck her, right as her foot came down on the top step. She recognized it instantly for what it was. Ordinary pain was, in a rather hard to describe manner, very different from migraine pain. It was impossible to confuse the two.

A migraine. She was having a migraine. Oh of course, her head had felt tight all day! And her eye, that was her aura, oh, she was so stupid! How could she not have seen this coming?

Oh, god, the pain was settling in fast this time, too. It never set in all at once, but the speed was less gradual than usual, right then. She whimpered. The basement would be no good. Master Galo was using power tools down there, right across the hall from the family bedroom. Her normal migraine spot, under her nice, dark, quiet bed, wouldn’t work this time.

Think, she had a limited amount of time before the pain got bad. Where should she go? The butterfly room? That was nice and dark, no windows, but would it be quiet? She naturally gravitated towards the idea of a bathroom, where the tile would feel cool against her forehead and she could turn off the lights. Upstairs, probably, she went upstairs, hoping to escape the noise of things landing in the dumpster and her family moving and talking around her. Near the back of the house, not the front, not near the driveway. The bathroom off the lilac bedroom? She went straight for it, closing her right eye since she couldn’t really see all that well out of it.

God, it hurt so bad. She closed the door, plunging the bathroom into merciful blackness. It was quiet, just what she needed, her family and Master would be busy for a while yet, they wouldn’t need to come looking for her. She could just stay where she was, curled up against the bathroom floor, in the dark, in the silence.

God, god it hurt.

And she knew it was only going to get worse.

Galo had the bars unscrewed and the dungeon stripped down to nothing more than walls, the floor, and an archaic looking chandelier that he did not have the electrical expertise to deal with. He needed someone with, like, training to deal with that.

Nyla hadn’t come back for a while yet.

Which, okay, it was a big house and she probably had plenty of grudges to act out against inanimate objects, but it was weird that Nyla of all people would start helping haul away the stuff he piled up and then stop midway through. It wasn’t like her.

And when Galo’s brain told him to worry, he was starting to come to terms with the fact that it was usually right. Did it count as anxiety when it was true?

He hauled up a load after scanning the basement, and finding no one there. He got rid of the evil library books as he paced through the first floor, as well as the armchair from the den. He found Greyson and Evan, but no Nyla. Hrm. He asked if Greyson would please take care of the D rings in the den and Evan volunteered himself, which, whatever worked. Upstairs he ran into Sasha in the music room, and he pried up the D rings like he said he would since she didn’t exactly seem like the type for power tools, and was glad to hand the task over to Lilah when she gravitated towards him, leaving the drill in her capable hands.

But where was Nyla?

It was ridiculous to think that she’d been kidnapped by Barbra but Galo couldn’t help but jump to that conclusion. He stalked through the second floor, trying not to be visibly distressed lest he upset the other slaves, but running out of places to look. He opened the door of a guest bathroom, if only for the reason that it was closed, and his eyes widened with horror to see his girl lying in the fetal position on the floor.

“Nyla!” he shouted, rushing forward and dropping to his knees. She flinched, worse than he’d ever seen her jump, and curled in tighter, a muted scream passing her lips, and Galo’s panic bubbled over.

“Nyla, Nyla what’s wrong, what happened?!”

“Please!” she begged, sounding so small. “Please, please no, migraine, Master, please stop!”

Oh--oh. Oh, and his yelling would only have made it worse.

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” he whispered, guilt consuming him as he bent and caught sight of her silent tears. “What do you need, what helps?”

Galo didn’t know anything about migraines, other than “head hurt.” He knew they were awful, horrible things, and Nyla deserved to never ever have one. But he didn’t know--would medicine help? Was this one of those things that nothing helped, and she’d just have to wait it out? How long did they last? An hour? Should he touch her?

“Painkillers. Dark. Quiet. W--” she choked on a sob, high and pained and Galo’s heart broke into a thousand pieces. “Water, please, cold.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll go get painkillers and a glass of ice water? Do you--is the bathroom good? Is this a good place for you to be?”

“My bed,” she whined, hands over her eyes and body trembling faintly.

“Okay,” Galo said, mindful of each word, keeping his voice as quiet as possible. “Can--can you walk? Should I carry you? Should I touch you at all?”

“Just, don’t rattle me, please, don’t--hit my head, please, Master--”

“Never,” Galo breathed, and his heart broke all over again, to know that she still feared him so much, that Nyla had so little trust that she thought he would ever hurt her, much less when she was like this. “Never, Nyla, please, please believe that. I will never hit you.”

Nyla’s breath hitched, a little gaspy inhale, and then she slowly reached one hand out, and gripped Galo by the pant leg. Galo froze, standing on the edge of a brand new precipice, and tried to make his brain work, tried to think fast for once in his goddamn life, but his brain continued its sloth impression and he couldn’t process what this meant, though he felt its importance.

“Help me,” she begged, though it felt more like an admission than a plea.

“Please, I don’t want the others to see me like this; I hate it when they see me like this,” she continued, and that felt closer to normal.

“Okay, okay, I can’t promise we’ll be able to avoid them but I’ll try my best. I’m going to pick you up now, alright?”

“Okay,” she whispered, barely moving her lips, but he understood why she wouldn’t want to nod her head, right then. Carefully, he gathered her up in his arms and stood. She curled in immediately, pressing her face into the crook of his neck, and he felt like he was holding the most breakable, easily-shattered entity in the universe. He felt a surge of protectiveness, a bone-deep need to take care of her, to make it better in any way he could.

When they passed by the music room, its door open and Lilah inside with the drill, Nyla whimpered and pressed her hands hard against her ears. She wasn’t just pressing her face into his shoulder at that point, it was like she was actively trying to burrow into him, curled up so tight and stiff against him he felt she might shatter. He moved away from there as fast as he could, wanting to spare her everything he was able to. He tried to keep his gait smooth as he walked, slow on the stairs, and he actually did manage to avoid running into any of the others slaves.

He settled her down onto the cool sheets of her bed, wishing the slaves had softer pillows and wondering if he could get them any without them freaking out about it, and settled a palm between her shoulderblades.

“I’m gonna get that glass of water and those painkillers. Do you need anything else?”

“The blinds,” Nyla gasped softly, and Galo shut the blinds of the tiny skylight tightly, angled up so practically no light filtered in at all. He moved quickly, giving Greyson a probably-unconvincing smile as he passed him, but Nyla had asked that the others not know, so Galo wasn’t going to say anything. When he returned, he helped her sit up and handed her the medicine and the cup. The cool water seemed to help.

Galo knelt by the bedside, elbows and forearms laid out in front of him on the mattress and his chin on the sheets. He stared worriedly at Nyla’s face, and wasn’t even thinking when he reached out and stroked a hand over her hair.

Realizing halfway through what he’d done, he snatched his hand back with a quietly hissed, “Shit, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to touch your head.”

“T--” Nyla swallowed, “Touch is fine, Master. Just, no… patting, or, percussion. Touch feels, good sir.”

“Yeah?” Galo whispered, no more than a breath. “Would you like me to stay with you?” he asked quietly, stroking a gentle palm down from the back of her head to mid-spine.

“...Yes,” she admitted tremulously. “But--they last a while, Master.”

“Shhh,” Galo hushed, “I’ll stay. The others are busy and they’ll be fine, just focus on you for a little while, shh.”

Galo pet gently at Nyla’s hair, her shoulders, her back, needing to reposition a couple different times as certain parts of his body got tired or sore or lost blood flow. By the end of the first hour, Galo’s anxious concern had burned itself out, and the mild worry that remained was going to bat pretty hard with his boredom. By the end of the second hour, he’d fallen into a light doze and had been there for a while, his hand covering Nyla’s much smaller one, his thumb stroking very, very slowly over the skin on the back of her hand. He was fully asleep by hour three, Nyla’s fingers curled around his tighter than she’d ever dared before, so what a shame that he was asleep for it.

His impromptu nap came to an abrupt end when Nyla shifted, eyes flicking open but otherwise staying exactly where he was. Oh his neck was gonna have a SERIOUS crick in it.

“Nyla?” he asked softly, “Do you need anything?”

She shook her head slowly, and he perked up to see her voluntarily moving it. “It’s mostly gone now, Master.” She sat up very, very slowly, rubbing at her neck, and Galo mirrored her from his spot on the floor.

“Okay, that’s good,” Galo said, still speaking quietly, “Is it like, a fade-out kind of thing?”

“Yes sir,” she said, slowly stretching out her legs and wincing a little.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Sore, sir. And hungry, and--exhausted.”

She sounded tired. Galo was pretty sure he’d never heard her sound quite this tired. Carefully, watching her face for any sign of a negative reaction, he reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

“I’ll get you something to eat, yeah?” he offered softly. “You can stay here and rest.”

Nyla shook her head again.

“I can get up, sir. I don’t want to trouble you and the others will have noticed our absence and I need to walk out the stiffness and eating here would get crumbs in the bed, Master.”

Well, Galo could only really argue with one of those, but doubted Nyla would buy that she wasn’t causing him any trouble anyway. He stood, his own body protesting the movement, and stretched his arms up high above his head.

“Thank you.”

Galo glanced down, letting his arms drop, and smiled kindly when Nyla didn’t continue.

“Of course, Nyla, I’m here for you if you ever need me.” Then, because Galo was allergic to Emotional Moments, “Sooo, are we telling your friends we got abducted by aliens for the last,” he glanced at the time, “three and a half hours, or?”

Nyla giggled weakly, which, ten points to Gryffindor!

“I don’t mind them knowing, sir. It’s just when I have the migraine that I…”

“Okay, that makes sense,” Galo said. Not wanting to be seen while vulnerable.

So what does that mean that she let me? he thought with a flip in his stomach, but pushed the thought from his head.

Sasha seemed anxious when they entered the kitchen, but interestingly enough that anxiety did not seem to spike when she caught sight of Galo. Though that might have been because she simultaneously caught sight of Nyla, who was, as near as Galo could tell, Sasha’s main comfort in life. Best friend? Were they best friends? They might be best friends.

Galo wished he knew more about the lives of the people he Literally Lived With.

“Migraine,” Nyla said with a tight smile, by way of explanation, “Master Galo helped me.”

That did successfully key Sasha up, and Galo smiled, lips pressed thin. He should leave. His presence was an intrusion and would only make them feel like they couldn’t talk freely.

“I’ll leave you to it, then?” Galo offered, moving away from Nyla and sliding his hands into his pockets. Open. Nonthreatening. He knew when he wasn’t wanted.

“You don’t have to, Master.” Or maybe he didn’t. “I’m sure you’re hungry too, sir.”

Nyla sounded uncharacteristically nervous, but that also made sense. She was vulnerable, at the moment, fresh off a migraine and not at her absolute best.

So why was she asking him to stay, then? He wished he knew what she was thinking.

“Yeah?” he asked, searching her face and then Sasha’s, who seemed more shocked than anything. “Okay, cool. We can eat together.”

It was stiff.

Which, yeah, expected. Nyla apparently got peanut butter cravings post-migraine, which, huh! Who knew people got cravings after demon headaches, not Galo!

Sasha did not like that Galo was there. Galo did not fault her for that one bit. Nyla was coming down off a migraine and Galo was preventing Sasha from fussing over her, and Sasha really only seemed to know what to do about him in the mornings because they’d had their nice routine and Galo really didn’t hang out in the kitchen beyond that. He should, like, dedicate some time to Sasha. Lock himself in the bathroom and let her sniff him through the door, he thought with a private chuckle to himself.

He now understood why Lilah had asked for extra kitchen stools, since there was quite literally only the one. Galo had the closest thing to an argument that he’d had, with Nyla, firmly insisting that she be the one to seat herself, then awkwardly stooped over the counter with all his bulk and height.

“Ahaha,” Galo ‘laughed’ self-consciously with a rub to the back of his head. Maybe he should’a sat after all. “Sorry, don’t mean to loom imposingly. Really, I can just… head out.”

Sasha looked away, lips thin, but Nyla’s eyes remained on him.

“You, are not all that imposing. Sir.”

Galo blinked, and was peripherally aware that Sasha was now also looking at Nyla like she’d spouted a second head. Nyla was flushed, and staring at Galo’s shoulder rather than his face, but swallowed and continued.

“When you first arrived, the size of you was frightening, sir,” she said, her voice quiet but Galo was far too enraptured to have missed even a single word. “But you kept Barbara from stealing me, and rescued Evan, and yesterday you gave Greyson both comfort and lenience.”

Nyla reached out her hand and placed it, very delicately, on top of Galo’s on the counter, Galo’s eyes tracking the movement in a fashion that might be described as gobsmacked.

“You have always been kind to us, Master. Stay.”

“Oh,” he said, as something important clicked in place.

#whump #slavery #slave whump #gw #nyla #galo #greyson #evan #sasha #lilah #migraines #aftermath of torture #multiple whumpees #mine #writing #my friend and her husband both get migraines and let me pick them for research purposes #i'm so sick of looking at this #*flings it into the void of tumblr* take it

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yarichinbokutoclub · 4 years ago

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The train was packed. Who knew so many people would be milling about at 1 o’clock on a Wednesday afternoon. You hated it, being around so many people, but with your job at the museum you had learned to tolerate the crowds. This, however, was different, you were crammed in a tiny cabin with God knows how many other people. Don’t these people have work to do? It is a week day after all. So, to put things lightly, your day did not start off on a good note.

You were, however, looking forward to the Café’s opening. It was your light at the end of the tunnel so to speak. With the café being a bit of a hole in the wall and lacking any media presence you knew it would not attract much of a crowd. The perfect place to work on your botany journal (basically just a journal with different plant clippings and facts and drawings. Think Hiccup’s journal in HTYD or Deku’s journal in BNHA.) You were really looking forward to the new pages you could add now that the museum had gotten in some new flora, that of course they let you be the first to see. The journal was a great help when you were giving tours as you wanted to be as thorough as possible in hopes that you might inspire a bright young mind, like what had happened to you so many years ago.

The train finally came to a stop and you couldn’t have been more grateful. You got off as quickly as possible and stopped to take a deep breath, really appreciating the fresh air and the open space around you. After you got your bearings, you adjusted your outfit (gotta look good in case there are any cute boys at the café ;)) and got on your way. The café was only about 5 blocks from the train station so it didn’t take you long to get there at all. You turned off the main street onto a little side one, almost like an alley, and towards the end you saw the café.

The vibe was immaculate. It was everything you could have wished for and more, no crowds and books everywhere, what’s not to love? Taking a deep breath to prepare yourself, you pushed open the front door. A small bell above you jingled to signal your arrival and you were immediately met with not only the eyes of your best friend, Yachi, but also a pair of wide yellow eyes which seemed to be taking in your appearance. Blushing, you tried not to think much of it and made your way to the counter and greeted the cute barista that you knew so well. “Yachi!!! You look so adorable in your apron.” you exclaimed upon getting to the counter, mindful of your volume of course. “Y/n, you actually came!” Yachi replied with a big grin.

“I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to check this place out and bug you on your first day. ;P Speaking of, how has it been, any rude customers yet?”

“It’s been a lot slower than we would have hoped but everyone has been really polite, I honestly couldn’t have asked for a better first day. Anyways, I should probably get back to work. What can I get you? I’ll bring it to your table when it’s ready.”

Yachi, always the positive one and a hard worker too. Scanning over the menu you quickly make your decision. “I’ll have a hot caramel latte and a blueberry muffin! Oh an make sure you do something extra cute for the latte art!!”

“Only the best for you, y/n! I’ll have it right out!”

With that you made your way to a table near a window so you could attempt to people watch without being near any of the other patrons. It was a quiet corner just the way you liked. However, you could still feel those big yellow eyes on you. Looking up you finally made eye contact with the man who had been staring you down and boy was he cute. You could tell he was athletic too, giving him a curt smile you turned back to your table and pulled out your journal. Maybe this could be where you find your wattpad romance after all. Or so you thought.

Yachi brought out your order and you got to journaling about the newest flower in the museum’s greenhouse, the Cytandra Vittata or Candy-Striped Violet. Particularly excited about this one due to the flower’s incredible beauty and unique petals, you made sure to put extra care into the pages. You were having a great time, the coffee was amazing and the atmosphere was perfect for getting your work done. That is until HE decided to stop staring at you and go back to reading his manga. Whatever it was, it must have been incredibly interesting because he was… engrossed to say the least.

Not only did he seem to zone everything around him out, forgetting where he was, but he also felt the need to verbally or physically react to just about everything that was happening in his childish story. He was annoying, sure, but not loud enough to where he could be considered “disturbing the peace” even though he was certainly disturbing YOUR peace. Every two seconds there was an “oooh” or an “ahhhh” maybe even a “WHAT?!” thrown in there. Your patience was certainly running thin and you made sure to glare at him a few times, even hushing him along with the other patrons, but he just was not getting the hint. The next page must have had a huge plot twist or surprise thrown in there because this response, it was the most dramatic. Abruptly, he stood up out of his chair, knocking it to the ground in the process. His eyes were even bigger than before (was that even possible?) and he yelled (yes, this time it was a yell). His exact words were “NO!!! IT WAS HER BROTHER ALL ALONG?! YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!!!!.” Spoilers, am I right?

At this you had had enough. Sure, you didn’t like confrontation, but it didn’t seem like anyone else was going to step in and you knew Yachi would be a nervous wreck if she had to. So, you marched over to his table with the most aggressive scowl you think you have ever sported on your face.

“Are you trying to piss off everyone in the store?! Because you’re doing a really good job if that was your plan!” You screamed at the stranger’s face.

He looked up at you confusion written all over his face. “…Huh?” he questioned.

“Are you trying to tell me you have no idea what you’ve been doing for the past 30 minutes?? Because I don’t buy it. You’re being incredibly loud and rude and you need to stop. This is not the place for that. Some people are trying to get work down and you’re making it incredibly difficult. If you wanna read your manga fine do it but do it quietly. Save the theatrics for your bedroom.” you weren’t trying to be mean but you couldn’t help it. Once you start talking you can’t stop yourself and this time you went a little too far. His hair seemed to deflate, something you certainly didn’t miss because was that even possible?

“I’m sorry miss, I didn’t realize I was being so loud I’ll try to quiet down.” He replied with a huge pout on his face.

“Thank you.” You replied and promptly turned on your heels to go back to the violet you were so excited to study.

Everything was going smoothly now, sure you didn’t mean to be that harsh and you could’ve asked him nicely but your anger took over and you couldn’t help it, though you did feel a bit bad. It certainly didn’t help that your day had started out as poorly as it did and you were so looking forward to the peace and quiet of the café, something that had been so rudely ripped away from you. Another 15 minutes passed by and the silence was amazing, you made some real progress in your journal, even completing a detailed sketch of the flower. After the 15 minutes was up however, the reactions started to seep back out from the yellow eyed man again. He seemed to be over his pouting now. His reactions, although much quieter this time were still quite annoying. You decided to ignore them though, thinking you had been a little too harsh the first time around, and hoping he just slipped up and will go back to being quiet. This, however, was not the case and the disruptions continued for another 10 minutes when you decided you better just leave. Fate is tricky and maybe you just weren’t fated to be at the café today, meaning you’ll try again tomorrow after work. You said your goodbyes to Yachi and made your way to the train station, looking forward to the peace and quiet of your apartment and the soft cuddles of your two cats, Kyo and Tohru.

What you didn’t know, was that Yachi, deciding it was time to be bold, went over to the loud and excitable customer. She decided it best, for business and for her own sanity, if she politely asked him to leave. And she did just that. The man apologized and made his way out of the café feeling a bit defeated but determined to come back again and next time hopefully not get kicked out.

fear & love

4. series of unfortunate events

prev / next

masterlist

PLOT - y/n is in her first year of college at tokyo u., she has a great friend group, a fantastic internship, life is good… that is until she meets bokuto koutarou. this loud and brash volleyball star is about to turn y/n’s life upside down. the question is, will it be a good change or a bad one?

a/n - Im gonna be honest, not really loving this fic but I am pretty happy with how this chapter turned out, as always any advice is welcomed and pls if there's anything you want to see happen just ask!

taglist (open, send an ask) - @dumbb1tc4 @fleurishnblotts@coffeeaddictedmay@bigchaosenergy @noliamallpayne @evan-rose @bokutowo

BOLD COULDNT BE TAGGED

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uwua3 · 4 years ago

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hi bunnie! can i first just say that your name and blog are both so dang cute aaaa 🥺 can i request a best friend!izumi hc? 🥺👉👈 thank you so much 💛

THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! YOU ARE THE CUTEST PERSON EVER~ i am in Love With You !!! also omg IZUMI ♡u♡ she is the Best Girl ever but #AllGirlsAreBestGirls !!! i love her so much, i’m so glad this was requested!!! i am so happy to write this ♡ PLEASE LOVE IZUMI!

summary: together, you and the currian are unstoppable! watching the cooking channel with your best friend just got even better

author’s note: i hope you love this 🥺 i am genuinely so soft over izumi she deserves the whole world

count how many times i say curry, it isn’t even Funny at this point T___T anyways, i was a bit nervous over this because i hadn’t watched the anime, so i didn’t know izumi well as a character! if all else fails, use the traits you know to the best of your ability! i love our curry queen regardless, though~

word count: 2,001

music: good as hell – lizzo ft. ariana grande

my best friend.

🍛 tachibana izumi

you, funny enough, met izumi at the grocery store in the spices aisle

you were unable to decide between which spices were necessary for the curry recipe you were about to attempt, staring at your phone screen with obvious confusion

what was the difference between each type of curry? which one was better? you scrolled down, reading off the countries,

“india, thailand, malaysia, china, south africa, japan...” you mumbled inaudibly before you heard a very distinct crash in the next aisle over. someone must’ve just hit their cart into a display or—

you saw a girl with long brown hair and pink eyes with... wait... were her pupils heart–shaped? you stumbled back as she approached like she was on a mission, standing a mere few feet from you as she smiled pleasantly at you like the situation wasn’t out of the ordinary at all

(oh no... was she one of those pyramid scheme scammers?)

“are you making curry?!” she questioned, leaning forward to glance at your screen only to squeal in excitement at the confirmation. you gulped, nodding with a tinge of doubtful fear

if you said yes, were you about to be attacked right here and now in the middle of a grocery store? you just wanted some curry...

“i’m so happy for you! do you need help? i know the perfect combination of spices for any type of curry! i can make a different curry for each day of the year!” she offered to help, putting her hands together with a pleading look like she was dying to talk about curry

you nodded again and her entire face lit up again, going off on a rant without taking a moment to breathe

she was so knowledgable on all types of curry! you took notes diligently, deciding on japanese chicken katsu curry as the meal for tonight

when you told her, she clapped her hands and giddily jumped up and down. it was honestly refreshing to see someone so enthusiatic about food!

“i’m sorry for randomly talking to you, but i just love curry! do you need help looking for the rest of the items?” she offered to help, already with an armful of the spices you needed and dumped them into your cart

you pondered, thinking as you looked at the girl. she was nice enough, and clearly wasn’t much of a threat if she was willing to approach a stranger without any discomfort

why not? you smiled, offering your hand out to shake as you introduced yourself. she took it quickly, enthusiatically shaking it up and down as she giggled

“izumi! glad to meet you!”

from that point forward, you two became best friends for life!

izumi was the life of the party and brought happiness wherever she went. not only that, but she was incredibly polite and kind! it wasn’t everyday you met a girl that was full of life and always determined to overcome any obstacle in her path!

izumi would go through anything and everything for her friends despite how busy she was 24/7. she juggled being the mankai director (which was babysitting 20 boys), helping other acting troupes, and cooking at night but still made time to see you at least every week

you weren’t surprised when you were encouraged to come over for a company dinner one night and saw so. many. variations. of curry set up at the table. like the other boys, you attempted to hide your grimace (but very poorly, you weren’t a trained actor like the rest of the entourage was)

“what’s wrong? are you okay?” izumi’s motherly instincts kicked in as she hurried to put her hand against your forehead. you had to pretend like you were coming down with a cold the rest of the week and forced the curry down your throat

(the boys secretly gave you water under the table, whispering advice on how to bear it and grin as they made up fake situations to pass your chair)

(the high schoolers just looked relieved to not be the victim that night)

(seriously... so. many. variations.)

(every time you were invited to a meet–up, you texted the groupchat named “stop the currian” to see if izumi was making curry)

(she always was. you still ate it because you loved her too much to say no)

but other than curry, izumi loved cooking! she was subscribed to sooo many culinary and baking channels on youtube. she loved sending you links with a follow–up text that said: “wanna make this tonight? i know you want to eat it! ;)”

(you complained about how it always ended in a minor food fight you had to clean up. you still let her in when she knocked on your front door with bags of groceries)

(after so many visits, izumi was beginning to be proficient at other forms of culinary like baking since you enjoyed it so much)

one time, you even convinced izumi to make her own youtube channel. you had set up a camera omi loaned on a tripod, acting as the best cameraman ever of course

(you had a clapperboard that had the production titled, “izumi is replacing bon appétit’s claire” with take 1 freshly written)

“you got this, izumi!” you encouragedly put a fist in the air, “fighting!”

izumi nodded cutely, wearing her favorite striped shirt with a pastel pink apron. she held a automatic whisk in her right and was already posing with a mixing bowl in her left, ready to demonstrate how to make your favorite dessert

(maybe you suggested the idea because you wanted food, who knows?)

counting down vocally, you watched as your fingers dropped down to a zero and the red light on the camera started blinking. it was go time, and izumi immediately got into action

“hello, everyone! my name is tachibana izumi and today we will be making—”

the camera fell off the stand as izumi’s whisk flew out of her hand and smacked the lense directly in the middle. a sickening thud echoed through the apartment as you two stood in shock, staring at the expensive camera with unease. it didn’t look... uh... functional?

you quickly put your finger on your nose since it was an unspoken rule that touching your nose automatically meant opting out. you were a second earlier than izumi as she gasped like she was offended

“i am not telling omi!” izumi freaked out, running over but the damage was already done. the camera definitely didn’t turn on anymore

(you and izumi bought the same camera that day and switched the memory cards) (omi raised his eyebrows at the sudden newness of his trusty camera, but didn’t say anything as he just took it and thanked you for bringing it back safe)

(yeah... omi definitely knew. but, he wasn’t too bothered to say anything about it)

(“izumi? what did you spend so much money on last month?” sakyo reviewed her financial statement, watching as she nervously sweat and glanced at omi. he just shrugged like he had no idea)

so you two stuck to mindlessly watching the cooking channel on the tv. it was the usual weekend: becoming insecure over the unreal and extremely talented kid bakers who made a whole 3–tier cake in two hours, making fun of america’s worst chefs when they didn’t know how to cut a chicken, and yelling at cheating cooks who were way too competitive on chopped

it was better that way, anyways. maybe going viral on the internet wasn’t meant for everyone. you still got your dessert, much to your satisfaction

(“yeah, yeah. it’s only because you’re my best friend.” izumi laughed, shoving the plate with extra servings as you stuffed your face. she just fondly rolled her eyes as you tried saying thanks with your mouth full)

(“gross!” izumi squealed, throwing the kitchen mitts at you as you fought back, nearly hitting her with one of the pastries. you already know what happens next. izumi stopped baking for you for a long time [a month] as punishment)

speaking of baking, izumi loved making the most ridiculous cakes you’ve ever seen in your entire life

on random days, she’d make the most creative cupcakes ever with individual designs with meticulous attention to detail

(izumi always had to slap masumi’s hands away from the white box she’d set aside specifically for you. he’d pout, hurt, wondering why she didn’t make any food other than curry for him)

(“masumi... you really need to look at other girls.” you remembered advising him, sympathetically patting his back as he angrily accused you of being in love with izumi, too! to this day, it’s still awkward on your end when you see masumi and he thinks you’re his lifelong competitor)

but on important celebrations like your birthday and anniversaries, her cakes were... something. they’d be the most delicious things on earth, but the design would be comically ugly. she’d put the most bare minimum art ever and write the words way too big and it wouldn’t fit. there were always misspellings. maybe it was a curse for being so well–rounded?

another fun fact was you and izumi were the ultimate power duo! whenever you two went to hang out in public, you always made sure some creep wasn’t staring at her and she did the same for you all the time

as friends, it was your job to make sure you two were as safe and sound as possible

(one time, an absolute douchebag tried to wolf whistle her and izumi had to stop you from getting into a fight in broad daylight)

izumi was way too nice. she was such a selfless person and often acted like the big sister you never had. she was always ready with the most agreeable advice and showed up with her arms open. she was so giving, it was easy to see why everyone loved her

but you liked giving back, too! (much to her surprise) you even tried your hand at making some new form of curry by throwing in random spices and calling it a day, but you realized she was the most critical judge ever for any type of curry

(you stopped making curry for her. she would narrow her eyes and push her imaginary glasses up like an anime character. it was terrifying, she always appreciated it but... you shuddered, izumi was scary)

once, you even rented that curry truck to come by for her birthday! you never saw someone look like they were this close to passing out from maximum happiness

(you even bought a director’s chair for her with izumi bedazzled across the back)

(she now sits in it to get that extra confidence boost before a big show)

but the most important gift that kept on giving was spending quality time with izumi when she needed it most

when the anniversary of her father going missing came back around, you were the first person at her room. with curry you knew she liked from that really one obscure place and all the time that day to make sure she way okay

(she was such a big sister! izumi always claimed she was fine and it was just another normal day, but you were always there to provide comfort she didn’t even know she needed)

you took time out of your day to help her with all her mudane tasks after you saw she once physically fainted from tiredness

(it almost gave you a heart attack the first time, but then you noticed tsuzuru also did that too so it must’ve been something in the mankai dorm air)

you then became a well known figure in the theatre community as “izumi’s best friend”

(you were not upset with that title at all, in fact, you hoped it never changed)

who knew you’d meet your best friend forever at a grocery store? over curry nonetheless?

(yes, you’re izumi’s best friend, but it doesn’t mean you’re exempt from the spices rant)

#tachibana izumi #izumi tachibana #a3! act! addict! actors!#a3!#act! addict! actors!#a3! actor training game #a3! headcanons #act! addict! actors! headcanons #mankai a3!#mankai company #a3! x reader #a3 x reader #izumi x reader #a3! izumi #a3 izumi

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sxveme-2 · 4 years ago

Text

blueberry pancakes // bucky barnes

MASTERLIST

Description: A single mother. Juggling being a mom, a full time pediatrician, and a difficult ex who believed now would be the best time to finally be a father. A soldier ripped out of time. Ex-assassin turned superhero. Learning how to balance a new domestic life with handling demons of his past, while facing the trials of the future. a love story began over something as simple as chocolate chip pancakes with hidden blueberries.

Disclaimer: I do not own any original Marvel characters! All canon plots and canon characters belong to Marvel Comics and Marvel Studios. This is an original work. You may not publish it anywhere else

Status: Unedited

Note: Takes place after endgame. I have elected to ignore Tony's death and Steve's leaving. Did not happen. Quick Reminder! My works are only published here, AO3 and on Wattpad, thank you.

Chapter Thirty-One : The One With the End

Warnings: Child Birth

Word Count: 3293

Lily let out a breathy sigh as she sat up in her bed that morning. Her breathing was laboured from her crying the night before, and eyes felt swollen and puffy. A feeling she'd become accustomed to over the past few weeks. When she became coherent, a new feeling of dread fell over her shoulders. It was her birthday.

The knock on her door only solidified that.

Hunter pushed open the door, and walked in with Rose with a plate of blueberry pancakes and orange juice. Butter and icing sugar coated the sweet breakfast and Lily smiled brightly as she opened her arms for her son. The boy ran forward and tackled his mom, hugging her tightly and wishing her a happy birthday, before rolling to the end of the bed with Joey.

Rose waddled forward and smiled, tilting her head as she placed the tray down, eyes scanning her sisters face, "You alright Lily?"

The older sister pursed her lips, forcing a fake smile on her face, "No one likes getting older."

Rose nodded slightly, taking a seat on the other end of the bed beside Joey and Hunter. The three sat in silence as Lily began eating. Lily wasn't really sure what to say to them. Birthdays were never really a big thing for her. She went all out for Hunter, but never enjoyed them herself. She preferred to just go on with her day like it was nothing. It was easier than having all of that attention on her for the whole day. Agreeing to the dinner tonight was more so for Gen's sake than her own. It would put her best friend at ease. So Rose was staying home with Hunter while Lily went to the cafe and spent a few hours with her best friend.

"Can I style you today?" Rose grinned, wiggling her eyebrows at her sister, hands resting on her swollen stomach.

"...Do I?" Lily chuckled, sipping her drink, "Will I end up walking out of the house looking like I own 57% of a company?"

"No. But it'll get you out of those sweats," she grinned, "Plus it's your birthday present. I bought you clothing. Don't worry, it still fits you're 'don't talk to me I'm a ball of anxiety' style."

"I do not dress like that!" Lily laughed, scoffing halfway through.

Hunter turned his attention to his mom, raising his eyebrows, "Mom. I'm twelve, and I know that's your style."

"Ha!" Rose laughed, standing to her feet, "Looks like our little man's gonna follow in his aunt's footsteps and go into fashion."

"No." Hunter stated, turning his attention back to Hunter, "I wanna join the military like Bucky."

Lily choked on her drink, the orange liquid staining her grey pyjama top. Her mind went blank as she placed the cup down, staring at her unbothered son. Rose above him was wide eyed and stunned at the sudden confession. Lily wasn't even sure how to process the information. She never would have thought about Hunter doing something like that, let alone following in the footsteps of his mothers ex-boyfriend. But she figured it made sense, he looked up to Bucky more than Lily could fathom.

"When did you decide that?" Lily managed, wiping her mouth with a napkin, facing her son.

"After hearing Bucky's stories on my birthday," Hunter shrugged, scratching Joey's ears, "And I fully decided when he went on the mission before you and him broke up."

Rose stared at Lily's shell shocked face. Lily could barely peel her eyes off of the back of her son's head. He was so nonchalant about it all that Lily felt a shiver of fear slide down her spine. This seemed like such a casual topic for Hunter, all while it shredded the last bit of Lily's heart that was intact after the end of her last relationship. She didn't know if this was something that Hunter was truly serious about, or if this was his weird way of trying to get his mom back together with the supersoldier.

"Okay buddy why don't you go get dressed okay?" Rose hummed, shooing the twelve year old from the room with the dog following suit.

The moment the door shut behind the boy, and his footsteps were far enough away, Lily broke once again. Her tears fell down her cheeks rapidly as her heart grew heavy and lead like in her chest. Rose struggled onto the bed and tugged her sister close, letting the elder cry into her shoulder. Letting all of those broken pieces shatter into something unfixable.

The only one able to fix it too far from her reach.

-----

Lily stared at herself in the mirror. She wasn't used to wearing dark colours, Rose knew this. However, Lily now stood in front of her bathroom mirror in a black knee length tennis skirt, with a black and white striped sweater tucked into it. It wasn't something she was used to. She only really reached out from her comfort style when her and Bucky got further into their relationship. She took a guess that Rose knew this, and used it as leverage to get her sister to finally grow from the shell of who she was.

"I feel like I look like a sore thumb." Lily muttered to herself, running her hands down the front of the skirt, readjusting it at the hips.

"I heard that!" Rose called out.

"Then stop listening!" Lily replied, turning her head back to the mirror.

Running a hand through her golden hair, Lily tilted her head. She didn't hate the outfit, she just wasn't used to it. But she supposed it was her 34th birthday, she could experiment with fashion a little. Besides, it was only her and Gen for dinner and a bunch of strangers that still occupied the cafe. It's not like anyone would give her a second glance. Touching up her lipstick, Lily turned and walked from the room, smiling tightly at her sister.

"You look great, Lil." Rose nodded, wincing slightly.

"You okay?" Lily asked, walking forward and placing a hand on her sister's nine month pregnant stomach.

"Yeah yeah I'm fine, he's just a bit of a kicker recently." Rose chuckled, standing to her feet and walking from the room, Lily trailing her.

"I can stay home if you need me to, Rose. I don't mind." Lily insisted, following her younger sister closely behind.

"I'm fine Lily, really," Rose sighed, easing herself down the stairs, "He's just kicking. I know the difference between labour and kicking."

"I said that too, and gave birth later that day." Lily further pushed, placing her hand on her sister's shoulder as they reached the bottom of the stairs.

"No. Lily, you're going out. It's your birthday," Rose sighed, handing her sister's purse to her, "Now go. Hunter knows how to dial 911 if in some freak case I end up going into labour. It's 7:30, you know Gen hates it when people are late."

"No she do- "

"Go!"

-----

Lily sighed as she stepped out of her car, embracing the warm and slightly muggy air of the city. As much as she adored the smell of the grass and the noises of kids playing, Lily always had a soft spot for the hustle of the city and the sounds that came with it. She had lived in the thick of it for a bit with Gen, and she enjoyed it. But knew that it would become too overwhelming for her if she stayed too long. Hence her desire to be out in the suburbs with her own individual space.

Paying at the meter, Lily locked her car. She ducked and dodged around pedestrians as she walked towards the cafe that beckoned her forward. Her hand rested on the iron door handle and she pulled it back, beaming at the comforting smell of coffee and croissants. Taking a quick survey of her surroundings, Lily walked forward towards the back of the cafe. Where she could only assume Gen was slaving over an oven working on a meal for her and Lily.

"Well if I didn't know any better, I'd say you're cooking for a family of seven." Lily chuckled as she walked further into the kitchen.

"Good lord!" Gen exclaimed, dropping her spoon, "Announce yourself when you walk in here Lily!" She chuckled, turning and walking towards her.

"You just looked so focused." Lily teased, wrapping her arms around her best friend.

"Happy Birthday hun." Gen smiled, pulling back and pressing a kiss to the blondes flushed cheek.

"Thanks love, now can we eat? I'm starving." Lily teased, turning and walking back out onto the slightly crowded cafe floor.

The blonde found her seat in a booth just adjacent from the kitchen, and slid in. One of the servers brought her over a cup of coffee and left the pot, wishing her a happy birthday before she scurried off to help the other customers. Lily pursed her lips as she watched the young girl hurry around, a round bump protruding from her stomach and stretching at her apron. With a tight smile, Lily took a sip of her coffee.

"Okay I've got something to confess," Gen sighed as she walked out with the two dinners in her hands, "a certain group of people called and reserved a booth here tonight."

Lily raised her eyes to meet her best friends as the latter slid into the booth across from the blonde, "...what certain group?"

"Before you lose it on me, Elijah took the reservation not me," Gen added quickly, raising her hands in defense after putting Lily's chicken parm in front of her, "but it may be the group your ex-boyfriend is a part of."

Lily dropped her fork onto the table and pinched the bridge of her nose, "Are you kidding me? Gen you told me this would be a peaceful and nice dinner, just the two of us."

"I know I know I know!" Gen sighed, twirling her own pasta on her fork, "There's nothing I can do. I put them at the booth farthest from her though so, don't worry. There's no chance you'll run into your robot ex."

-----

Liar.

Turns out, Gen, being her forgetful self, put the Avengers at the table directly across from their booth. Leaving Lily in the direct eyeline of Bucky or whoever decided to sit on the far side of the table. Either way, it wasn't a good placement. And of course, right when they sat down, Gen realized her mistake and stared at Lily with wide and apologetic eyes.

Only to receive the dirtiest glare from Lily.

"I could have sworn that I put them on the other side of the cafe, in a booth." Gen sighed, feigning innocence as she returned her attention back to the food in front of her.

"You also said it was the Avengers. Not just Sam, Steve, and Bucky." Lily hissed, sipping her coffee and staring down her best friend, "What are you playing at, Genevive?"

"Tomato tomato," Gen sighed, waving her hand, "It's not like they're going to come talk to us. No one has been in contact with them in a month. Not since you broke the terminator's heart."

Lily dropped her fork again and raised her eyebrows at the brunette, "Really?"

"Oh relax. Now I'm going to check on your cake in the back. Don't go flirting with Captain America while I'm gone." She teased, standing from her seat and walking towards the back.

Rolling her eyes, Lily pushed her plate away from her and focused solely on her coffee. She tried with every part of her to avoid turning her gaze towards the hushed voices of the three Avengers who were sat a mere few meters away from her. However, even the strongest wills can bend. She dared a glance, dark eyes lifting from the strong liquid in her cup to just get the slightest peek at what he looked like.

She regretted it instantly.

Lily instantly locked eyes with his steel blue ones. Heavy eye bags that matched her own weighing down those once bright and lively eyes that Lily had fallen in love with. His beard was overgrown and hair too long and unkept. His entire face was fallen and solemn, as though he lost all life in him the day she told him to leave. His frame was fallen and thinner than she remembered.

He looked equivalent to her.

Shallow breaths, sunken shoulders. Troubled eyes and heavy thoughts. She had caused that. Lily's breath caught in her throat as she placed her cup down, tearing her eyes from his. Without a second thought, she stood from her seat. He followed suit. The cafe seemed to fall silent as the two stood at the same time, both daring the other to come closer. But Lily didn't intend to speak with him. Instead, she walked past him with her chin up. Right towards the bathroom opposite of the kitchen.

The steps grew quicker as she got closer, before slamming the door shut without a second thought. She placed her hands on the sides of the marble sink, attempting to catch her breath. The cool feeling on her hands brought some relief, but not much. The blonde lifted her head to stare herself down in the mirror. Her eyes seemed hollow and cheeks fell inward. She had lost a part of herself the day he left. After she told him to. It was her doing. She pushed him away and refused to talk about her feelings.

She destroyed both of them.

Fixing up her makeup and attempting to recenter herself, Lily felt every bit of dread fall on her like a blanket. If she had talked to him, told him her fears, her anxieties, this could have been avoided. They could have still been together, a pairing that worked so well it baffled Lily. He would still be in her arms, safe and away from the danger. She would have still been the girl he greeted with a kiss when she came home from work. But no. Instead, they were husks of people missing the other half of themselves.

Turning on her heels, Lily opened the bathroom door. Only to come face to face with the man who had plagued her thoughts for over a month now.

"Hi." He said softly, voice deep and gravely.

"Hi." She replied, heart picking up as she stood in front of the door, letting it tap against her back gently.

"Happy Birthday." Bucky whispered, taking a box out of his jacket and reaching forward, handing it to her.

"Thanks." She replied, voice equally as weak as she took the box, staring at him with confusion.

"Open it."

Lily nodded, her hands shaking as she went to open the leather case. She wasn't sure what he was playing at. If he was just being a nice person, if this was a hurtful prank, or hell, if he was trying to get her back. She wasn't sure. It all rested on the leather box that she held in her hands. But the moment was cut short when he phone vibrated in her pocket.

She whipped it out, ignoring the thud of her wallet on the floor. She'd pick it up after the call. Sliding her phone up, Lily answered her sister's call. But she didn't get to speak before she was running out of the cafe at Rose's three panic filled words.

"My water broke."

-----

Lily wasn't aware she could drive as fast as she did. Hunter had called an ambulance and the two had already made it to the hospital when Lily pulled up. Without a second thought, she tore through the entrance and stopped at the front desk, chest heaving and face red.

"My sister's giving birth. Rose Osborne. Came in with a little boy. My name's Dr. Lily Osborne. I work in the children's wing." The blonde stuttered, breath still trying to catch up with her voice.

"Right this way, Doctor." The nurse nodded, leading Lily through the doors and towards the maternity wing.

Lily followed hastily after the nurse, only picking up the pace when she saw Hunter sitting outside of a room. She ran forward and wrapped her arms tightly around the boy, pulling him tightly into her chest. Her breathing relaxed as she kissed the top of his head, bending down to be his height as she gave him a tight but warm smile.

"You did great buddy, now I'm gonna go help Auntie Rose bring you your cousin." She whispered, kissing his forehead before turning and walking into the room.

-----

Three hours. Lily held Rose's hand tightly for three hours as the latter officially became a mother to a healthy baby boy. Three hours later, Lily had a large bruise on the back of her hand from the sheer grip of her sister. Three hours later, the father of said child showed up. On the phone though, with his new girlfriend.

He didn't get far. Lily refused to allow him in the room until Rose was ready. And he didn't put up a fight, showing just how willing he was to truly become a father to the young boy that was swaddled in his mothers arms.

"Do we have a name for the little guy?" The nurse cooed as she walked back in the room, smiling at Hunter, who sat at the edge of the bed, staring at the baby boy in Rose's arms.

"Leo." Rose sighed breathlessly, "Leo Logan Osborne."

Lily smiled and kissed Rose's head before excusing herself from the room. Feeling a bit more relaxed, she slid into a seat and pulled out the leather box that Bucky had given her. She flipped it a few times in her hands, before pulling the trigger and opening the lid. Her heart hammered heavily against her chest as she pulled out the bracelet, smiling softly at the charms that he had already put on it.

Pancakes. Coffee. And a dog.

Clasping it around her wrist, Lily nodded to herself. Agreeing with herself that she would call him tomorrow, when everything was a bit more relaxed. Or more so, when she was less anxious about speaking with him again.

Peaking into the room, Lily smiled at Hunter curled into his aunt's side, staring longingly at the young boy in Rose's arms. Shutting the door softly, Lily turned towards the wall and walked towards the cafeteria, her own stomach rumbling. She could only imagine Rose's hunger. As she walked forward, something pulled her deep within to walk faster. So she did. Her feet moved faster as she rushed for a spot in line, staring up at the options.

After ordering and paying, Lily found herself coming face to face with a large chest in front of her. With the same intoxicating scent she had come to love over the last few months. She shut her eyes, before forcing her neck upwards, a tight smile on her lips as she met eyes.

"You left your wallet." He stated softly, reaching out with the leather item.

Lily pursed her lips once more and nodded, taking the wallet and sliding it into her pocket as she met his eyes once more. His eyes stared down at the bracelet on her wrist, and she grinned at the blush that formed on his cheek.

"Thank you." Lily whispered, "For the bracelet as well."

"It's my pleasure," Bucky commented, reaching his hand up and tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, "What'd you get?" he said, earning a deep chuckle from her as she leaned into his touch before answering.

"Blueberry pancakes."

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