#type: one-shot

[christian-zelda]

Man, I wish we had gotten something like this instead.

Was meant to be a little thingy but I GOT CARRIED AWAY. The last panel is inspired by @eedaeth incredible Botw 2 OC.

[clairewritesandrambles]

More Than This - Scott Miller

Summary: A late night in the library with Scott results in revelations.

Pairing: Scott Miller x F!Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Heavy making out, Scott is a bit of an ass, that's about it tbh

A/N: I'm a little nervous about this one, I'm not gonna lie. This one was born out of a "surprise kiss" prompt from @broadwaybaggins, so if you like it make sure to thank her. Thank you to @seeyalaterinnovator for looking this one over for me. I wrote this over the course of like a week and basically all of it was between the hours of 11pm and 3am, so if this sucks... Uh, sorry.

You were going to kill Scott Miller.

Not only had he chosen to sit at the table next to you, despite the desolation of the library at this time of night, but now all you could hear was the rhythmic smacking of his gum. That habit was one of many that had annoyed you since you two had first met, and fought, in your first class at MIT four years ago.

"Scott!" You snapped, staring at him as his head popped up to look at you. His brow furrowed slightly at you before he realized what was bothering you, a smirk taking over his face. He cracked his gum loudly, his face breaking into a triumphant smile at the sight of the muscle in your jaw jumping in annoyance.

"Were you born annoying or did that come later?" You asked, flipping the page of your notebook aggressively enough to rip it on a few of the top coils.

"Only since I met you," he replied, nonchalantly shrugging his shoulders. "You bring out the worst in me, what can I say?"

You rolled your eyes at him, eyes drifting back to your notebook as another self-satisfied crack of gum came from his tongue. You had seen the fear in the eyes of the library staff as they left and saw you and Scott staying behind for a late night of studying. You two had become infamous to the building for the fights that occurred over textbooks and private rooms, but you were determined to show that you could survive one night alone with him without resorting to violence. Even if he was making it incredibly difficult.

You shifted in your seat and attempted to refocus on the problem in front of you, but the formulas in your notebook had started to bleed together. You glanced at the clock on your laptop, scowling as it switched to 1:15am. Your body was screaming at you for sleep, but you knew that if you wanted to beat Scott on your upcoming project you'd have to power through.

Glaring at Scott you quickly saved your document before you grabbed your water bottle and walked to the fountain on the other side of the floor. He could be trusted to not steal your things, but could not be trusted enough to not mess with your notes. You had learned that the hard way.

You began walking back to your table, still feeling the physical pull of your body to sleep, coming to a sudden stop when you realized that the resource book you had been using was no longer where you left it.

Instantly your eyes slid over to Scott. Sure enough, there he was leaning back in his chair as he flipped aimlessly through your textbook. You could feel the blood rushing through your body in anger as you slammed your water bottle on the table, making Scott look up at you in mock surprise.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" You snapped, stalking towards him.

"What's the matter?" He questioned, rising out of his seat as he took the defensive position to your approach.

"Give me the book back, Scott. I just want to beat you on this project and go home." You tried to grab it from his hands, but he was quick to raise it above your head.

"It'll be here tomorrow; you could always just go home now." You scoffed at the suggestion, kissing your pride goodbye as you began jumping to try and reach the book. "I can see the circles under your eyes, I'm doing you a favour."

"Don't patronize me," you said. "This is just another plot to make you feel superior. We both know you've hated me since we met; you don't actually care about anyone other than yourself."

You were surprised when, instead of a sarcastic retort, you were met with a scowl from Scott as he lowered the book, no longer taking joy from teasing you.

"You really think that low of me?" Your stomach dropped slightly at his question, combined with the pink tinge to his cheeks and furrowed brow. Maybe you had been too harsh. "You were the one who started that argument and then never tried any other approach with me afterward."

"Would it have mattered if I did?"

Scott let out a low chuckle as he took a tentative step towards you. "You know, for someone so smart you can be really dumb."

He stood so close to you that your chest brushed his with every breath. Your brows knitted together at his words, the meaning coming to you a split second before his gaze dropped to your lips. Then he was kissing you, one of his hands coming to cup your face as he gently moved his lips against yours.

You stayed still for a moment, the sweetness of his movements in such conflict with your perception of Scott that you felt like you were short-circuiting. Before the rational side of your brain could catch up your subconscious body pushes you closer to him, hands knotting in his worn Bruins sweater that you had become so familiar with over the years. You could taste the spearmint of his gum, almost being thankful for his obnoxious chewing for the first time. Being this close to him you could smell the hint of Irish Spring that hid under his usual scent of an evergreen forest that had just experienced rain.

God, even his smell was a contradiction; a mix of frugalness and frivolity.

You deepened the kiss, pulling him closer as you tried to ignore the butterflies emerging in your stomach. Scott backed you up in response, grabbing your thighs and lifting you onto the table when you hit it. He kissed you with the patience of someone who seemed to think he had all the time in the world to do so, hands running over your body as he pulled you desperately closer.

Finally, he broke the kiss, allowing you to breathe properly for the first time in several minutes, and began kissing down your jaw and neck. "You can be so fucking frustrating," he sighs, sucking at the junction of your collarbone and neck.

The rational side of your brain was yelling at you, desperately trying to get you to remember that this was the same man you had hated for four years. Beneath it, however, was another voice asking if you really had hated him, or if you had simply felt safer telling yourself that you hated him.

You couldn't deny the way your body reacted to his touch or the way your heart had always sped up when he gave you his full attention. The way arguing with him gave you a thrill you had never experienced with anyone else. The fact that your classes together were the highlight of your week.

Yeah, you were so screwed.

But as quick as you realized these feelings, your brain began fighting back against them. This was still Scott, after all. How could you know if he shared your feelings or if this was simply a moment of lust? Was this a secret plot to humiliate you?

"Scott," you breathed, tugging on his hair to get his attention.

"What?" He asked, chest heaving. He was close enough that his breath fanned over your face, his deep blue eyes looking so deeply into yours that you were sure he could see through all your facades.

It was terrifying and confusing.

"I, um," you stumble over your words, having to rip your gaze away from him to calm your body enough to speak. "I should really get back to studying."

You could see his disappointment bleed out of his body at your words, his face falling slightly before he corrected himself. Back to the Scott you were used to: carefully manufactured for no one to see his private moments. The brief moment of vulnerability was enough to make your heart scream at you to pull him back in by his collar, but the whispers of insecurity from your brain stopped you from doing so. You could only hope that you were successfully hiding your inner conflict on your face. Maybe you two really were more similar than you thought.

"Right," he said, stepping back to allow you to slide off the table. "Sorry."

You avoided his eyes as you grabbed your textbook off his table, sitting down in front of your stuff as you tried to refocus. You knew it would be futile, your already exhausted brain running laps around the events of the night, but it was at least a little easier to sift through your thoughts without Scott's expert mouth on you.

You couldn't help yourself from stealing a glance at Scott, back at his own table. He had put his earbuds back in, aggressively typing as he looked at his computer with enough focus that you knew he was not going to look back at you.

You rested your head on your hand as you reopened the textbook, trying desperately to form any coherent thoughts. Your brain was combing through your memories of Scott, untangling all the moments you had been too blinded by your perception of him to see the full picture.

All those times you had insisted on sitting in his favourite study spot on campus, claiming that it was to annoy him. Reflecting on it now, though, you weren't so sure it was to annoy him. After all, you had never thought to spread yourself out enough that it would force him to find a new place. Instead, you had sat there and left the other chairs at the table empty, knowing that Scott would be too stubborn to give in and would take a seat in defiance.

The years of assuming that Scott was looking for a fight when he would approach you, not even considering for a second that he may have simply wanted your attention directed towards him.

As you continued going through the years you felt yourself being pulled into the floor, utterly exhausted by the mental gymnastics of the night.

How could one kiss change so much of what you thought you knew?

Your eyes open slowly, your body fighting to keep them closed despite the sound of Scott calling your name and gently shaking your shoulders. Your arms were folded under your head for some comfort, your body's fight for sleep apparently having finally won. Your eyes flicked to the clock on your computer, reading out that it was nearing 2am.

"Come on, you should get home," he said once you had woken up enough, nodding towards the exit.

You looked toward him to answer but found the words stuck in your throat and settled for a simple nod. He had already packed away his own things, his backpack slung over one shoulder and his old grey MIT hat covering his dark hair.

You closed your laptop, beginning to gather your things as you packed them into your bag. Wordlessly Scott grabbed your textbook, one which had been put to the side for your class, and returned it to the cart marked for your class.

When you didn't hear the expected sound of the exit doors you looked up, seeing Scott shifting his weight as he held his car keys in his hand.

He looked up at you as you gave him a quizzical look and twirled his keys on his finger. "It's the middle of the night. My mom would kill me if she ever thought of leaving you to get home on your own."

You briefly thought of refusing and taking a cab instead, but he was right about the issue of time. At least you weren't the only one who dreaded being in the same car after tonight if Scott's nervous motions were anything to go by.

You thanked him as the two of you walked out of the library, making your way to the parking lot where his black Audi was waiting. Scott held the door open for you as you climbed into his passenger seat, gently shutting the door after you.

As you sat and looked at his interior, you couldn't help thinking of an incident from a few weeks after you two first met. Scott had just beaten you on a unit test in class, so in retaliation you had parked your car behind his in the parking lot, boxing him in as he tried to get home. You, of course, had feigned innocence and claimed that your car had simply broken down in the position. It wasn't entirely unbelievable, your car had already been beaten up at the time and was now completely undrivable, but you had known from the second Scott's head popped out of his car that he didn't believe it for a second. Looking back on it, maybe you really had more of an active role in the state of your and Scott's relationship than you had previously considered.

Scott got into the driver's seat, tossing his bag into the backseat before starting the car. He fiddled with the heat, scrolling endlessly through his phone in search of a playlist. Every motion of his body was filled with nerves, emphasized by his eyes flitting to you every few seconds.

He finally decided on an old rock song from the 80s, putting his phone down as he sat back in his seat, his hands flexing around the wheel. You were about to say something in an attempt to put him at ease when he spoke first. "I'm sorry about earlier."

"What?"

"I shouldn't have kissed you out of nowhere like that," he explains, pausing slightly before continuing, "especially after everything."

"Oh," your heart dropped at his words, the conflicting emotions from earlier resurfacing in your chest. "It's fine."

You opened your mouth to ask him more about it, the confusion of his words mixing with your surfaced feelings to create a bitter taste in your mouth, before deciding against it and instead giving him directions to your place.

Like clockwork, your thoughts began to race again as you ran over his apology in contrast with his actions earlier in the night. The part of you that was still coming to terms with your feelings was eager to believe Scott's words, willing to believe that he could be cruel enough to lead you on without the intent to follow through. Had he simply seen you as a conquest? A challenge to overcome and then once he had proven that he could have you if he wanted, he'd turn around. Was he just horny and you happened to be around? Was that what had caused his whiplash reaction in the night?

But then the part of you that wanted him, the part that was unsatisfied with lonely nights spent studying, would argue. You had successfully ignored any actions from either Scott or yourself that had hinted at possible romantic feelings for four years. Could you really trust your cynical side to make rational decisions when it came to him?

You were thankful for Scott's music filling the car as you both sat in silence, turning over these thoughts in your head and only stopping when providing a new direction for Scott's driving. You snuck glances at him, but his focused gaze on the road didn't give away much to either side of your internal argument.

He finally pulled up to your place, forcing you to call a ceasefire for the war inside your head. You reached for the door, feeling like all you wanted to do was sprint for the safety of your bed, but your fingers refused to pull the handle for escape.

"What was your goal?" You asked, turning to look back at the driver's seat. Scott knitted his eyebrows together in confusion, prompting you to continue. "We've been at each other's throats since we met and you just suddenly kiss me." You watched him open his mouth to respond, but you decided to keep going. "And then you just tell me it shouldn't have happened! You just completely changed everything between us and then expected me to go back to how it was like it was nothing. How did you expect me to react to that?"

The part of you still rooted in your rivalry rejoiced in the guilty look on his face, though that voice that had been warring with you all night felt a pang of sadness at the sight, head dipping to look at your lap in anticipation of his response.

"What did you think would happen?" You continued, deciding to get your thoughts out before you had the chance to lose your confidence. "Did you think I'd be a notch in your bedpost after you've hated me for this long?"

"I've never hated you," he said, turning his body to fully face you now. "What aren't you getting about that? I wasn't trying to embarrass you."

"Then what were you trying to do?" You felt like someone was physically squeezing your heart, anxiety pooling in your chest at the potential for both joy or disappointment that could come from his words.

"I thought I made myself clear when I kissed you. You're the one who broke the kiss, that's why I apologized." The grip on your heart relaxed enough to allow a flutter of hope at his words.

"So, if I hadn't stopped kissing you..." You trailed off, unable to meet his earnest gaze. Despite the hope building inside of you at his words, you were determined to not allow yourself the potential disappointment from reading him wrong again. "What would you have done after?"

Scott let out an exasperated sigh next to you, finally making you peek at him. The street lamp outside illuminated his face just enough for you to see the amused smirk on his face. "You really are an idiot."

You tilted your head up further to get a proper look at his face. His expression matched the soft tone of his voice, both in direct contrast to his teasing words. Before your brain had the chance to talk you out of it, you cupped his cheek and brought his mouth to yours.

The dam that had held the butterflies from earlier to a trickle burst open to a flood, your heart celebrating its victory over your brain for the first time in your carefully conducted life. This time, neither you nor Scott were patient. You were both pulling each other closer, fingers threading through his dark hair as your body bumped the console of his car.

Even when you two separated to catch your breath you stayed leaned into each other, his fingers dancing over your lower back. Your fingers curled themselves into his sweater as you pulled him back towards you, relishing the taste of him and the warmth that spread through you as those walls you had built through the years began to fall.

You knew you should be going inside to sleep, but now that you had experienced Scott in earnest, his touch and taste spreading over you with every movement, you couldn't break yourself away. The practicality of a relationship could be figured out later, for now, you just wanted to make up for all the time you had spent too blinded by what you thought you felt to see the potential of him.

[lothirielswandc]

— G O T H A M —

Please don't be dead. Raven’s nails etched crescent moons into the Batmobile’s dashboard. Please don't be dead. Please.

The engine revved as Harley pressed down on the gas, speeding through an intersection. Only one car horn blared, quickly fading. Night traffic in Gotham was particularly scarce.

“We’ll get him back. Everything will be fine. I think.” Harley gnawed on her bottom lip, gloved fingers tightening on the wheel.

Raven tucked her knees to her chest. Her legs wouldn't stop shaking. White strands of hair trickled down her shoulders, bright against her black see-through tights and jean shorts.

Life without Raven’s powers had been amazing, unlike Clark’s. The little tight ball of tension, ever present in her chest during social interactions, had faded to a shadow. People weren't nearly as irksome. Raven could smile, or raise her voice, or kick a rock — and nothing would happen. It was exhilarating, the feeling of being fully human.

And now her miracle was a curse.

“You look constipated,” said Harley.

Raven glared at her.

“I mean, you look like you’re going to explode,” said Harley. “Take deep breaths. Breathe. Sitting like that prevents yourself from getting as much air.”

Raven ignored her. It was futile to ignore her body’s instinct to curl around itself. It was easier to endure the pain. “How close are we?”

“Three more blocks.” Harley’s eyes always had a dim, ghost-like pallor to them. They scanned the street signs. “Two…one…here.”

The Batmobile screeched to a stop. The inside throttled around them, lurching them against the seatbelts. Raven’s elbow slammed into the door. An uncomfortable flash of searing heat crawled across her skin.

Raven ignored the pain as she threw the door open. Her boots slapped the puddle-splattered cobblestone as she broke out into a run.

They were in one of the older, Victorian districts of Gotham. Dead leaves skittered across a small, hidden square. A cracked fountain was at the center. Angel statues, stained with graffiti, watched her with soulless eyes as she passed.

Raven didn't know where she was going. The violet neon sign for a hair salon — the only sign of life — was an educated guess.

Harley caught up with her, red and black pom-poms dancing atop her converse as she sped forward. Even the metal bat clutched in her fist didn't slow her down.

They stopped at the entrance. Raven flexed her fingers, leaning towards the door, but Harley’s bat blocked her.

The ex-clown peered into the darkened windows. “It’s been awhile since Professor Pyg terrorized the populace. I don't have a clue what to expect.”

“Let’s go.”

Harley’s bat didn't move. She glanced at Raven, ghostly eyes unblinking. “Hold up. Let’s go over the ground rules first: you’re not a Supe right now. You’re a civilian. There’s a huge difference, even if Pyg doesn't have powers.”

“ Harley.” Raven gritted her teeth as the seconds trickled by. Damian was close. What condition would he be in when she found him…?

“I’m not a civilian. I know how to fight,” said Raaven. “Damian’s family members express themselves with their fists. I’ll be fine.”

“But you haven't been mastering your emotions like you did with your powers. It’s hard to think straight and be rational…I know you hate that Raven, but you have to be on guard,” said Harley.

Raven nodded. She stared forward.

Harley lowered her bat. “Let me go first. Fists or not, I’m the big guns right now.”

Harley stepped in front of Raven. She pointed her bat at the door as she clasped the doorknob and squeezed.

The door creaked open without a fight, inviting them into the shadows.

Blood pulsed in Raven’s ears as they entered. Her eyes studied the empty barber chairs. Their reflections shot worried glances at them from the dusty mirrors. For the first time, Raven missed her powers. Her ability to sense the life forms around her, to feel what they felt — a sure way of sensing a hidden presence.

Harley continued to stalk forward bat first. Her fingers flexed at the base.

“It looks empty,” Raven whispered.

“ Shh !” Harley’s pigtails bounced as she turned and scowled at her.

Raven pressed her lips together. Harley prowled to a door at the end, marked for employees only. The darkness thickened around them as they moved deeper in. Raven’s mortal eyes strained to catch movement.

Harley threw the door open. The facade ended. A metal stairway descended before them. Fluorescent lights flickered.

Harley and Raven exchanged a look. The gymnast’s lips barely moved. “Assume they know we’re here. I don't know what kind of security this place has. No cameras in the front. If they have motion sensors, they’re hidden well. This has trap written all over it.”

As they descended the steps, faint music crescendoed, rising up to meet them. Opera music. Hairs rose along Raven’s arms as a male soprano sang in Italian. She wrapped her arms around herself, holding Damian’s hoodie closer, inhaling the scent of pine.

“Why are all of us Gotham villains so fucking dramatic? It’s like we’re walking thespians,” Harley rolled her eyes.

Raven’s ears started to ring, tuning out the music. Her hands shook. She had felt less fear facing near-infinitely powerful beings than what lay ahead.

Are we enough? Are we too late?

They turned a corner. A dome-like room stretched out along the end, but there was a wall of glass that stood between them. Like those hospital rooms where doctors performed operations on the other side.

A shadow glided across the glass.

Harley pressed up against the wall. Raven mirrored her, her heart wild and sporadic compared to the hard stillness at her back.

They crept forward, opera music growing louder.

The shadow on the other side of the glass became more distinct as they inched forward. It had wrinkled ears with sharp points. A lab coat with dark stains covered bulking shoulders.

Raven’s stomach convulsed as she studied the face. He wore a pig’s mask — no, a pig’s face: pink flesh, stout nose and all. I should’ve seen that coming. But it’s still gross. And ruins Charlotte’s Web for me.

Professor Pyg waved a meat cleaver in his hand like a conductor before an orchestra. He hovered over an operation table, peering at the naked, unmoving form before him.

Raven’s mouth fell open. Damian.

Raven rushed forward. He was there. His limbs were limp at his sides, strapped to the table. His beautiful bronze skin was bleached white beneath the fluorescents.

“Hold it!”

Harley wrapped her arms around Raven from behind. Completely forgetting she was her ally, Raven elbowed her in the gut as she broke free.

“STOP!”

Professor Pyg paused. The cleaver was inches away from Damian’s bare chest.

Raven slammed into the glassy wall between her and the nightmare at play. She searched for a door handle, following the curved wall. Harley was muttering curses behind her.

Raven stumbled into the metal panels of the door. More pain, white-hot needles assaulting her skin from the impact.

They nearly fell through the entrance as they entered the room. Harley’s bat was aimed at Pyg.

“Hand Robin and his incredibly endowed package over, and no one gets smothered in honey barbecue and slapped on a grill for Labor Day!” Harley peeked around Pyg at the operation table, her wide eyes focused between Damian’s legs.

“Harley, stop staring!” Raven hissed.

“What? Oh, yeah! Good for you, sweetie!” Harley yelped as Pyg threw a cleaver at her face.

Raven and Harley scattered. Raven ducked down, bolting for Damian. The door groaned open wider behind them.

“Finish them, my failures!” Pyg cried, drawing another cleaver from the depths of his lab coat.

Bodies stumbled forward in patient dressing gowns. They were unrecognizable beneath layers of thick, white gauze.

“What kind of unlicensed, plastic surgery office are you running down here —? Think you can take a crack at my knees?” Harley flipped back to the door, launching herself at the bodies.

Two escaped Harley’s lunge. They staggered towards Raven.

Raven pulled her arm back and let her fist fly forward (a Batfamily favorite). Her punch landed square in their bandaged face. But there was no scream. No muffled grunt of pain.

Do they feel anything — ? Physically, emotionally…? Raven raised her fists again, suddenly relieved not to have powers. Her eyes prickled as they lumbered toward her without the slightest human hesitation.

Arms wrapped around her. Raven kicked the one before her in the groin, and threw her head back into the other. The room blurred for a minute.

Raven shook herself free. The room teetered as she backed away, watching their swirling shapes. There was a dull ache in the back of her head.

Pyg’s victims paddled forward, puppet-like punching bags made of flesh.

Raven stumbled into a sharp metal surface. The operation table. Her fingers clasped the hard, icy edge as she spared a glance at Damian’s face.

Up close, Raven didn't see any new cuts. What few scars Damian had, she knew by heart: a stab wound from Slade, a long line down his torso from Ra’s, no doubt one too many scratch marks on his back from too-heated nights together.

Damian’s eyes were closed. Raven leaned over him. Her fingers caressed his cheek. Slivers of white strands slipped down to mix with his black locks.

“Damian…?” her voice cracked.

His eyelids fluttered.

A glint of metal flashed across the room.

Raven ducked as the air whistled by. The cleaver stung her cheek.

She planted herself at the end of the table, guarding Damian’s head. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, riddled with goosebumps.

Professor Pyg leered over the opposite side, brandishing another cleaver.

“Where the hell does he keep those things — ACK!” Harley was buried beneath a pile of mummified victims.

“You mustn’t take him from me! He is the closest I’ve ever come to perfection —! All he needs are a few…modifications.” Pyg’s eyes trickled down Damian’s bare body.

Raven’s grip on Damian tightened. Even without demonic urges to own and dominate everything, Damian was hers. Her vision blurred red.

“Although,” Pyg’s voice turned from full of inhuman greed to conversational, gesturing at her with the cleaver, “You have incredibly flawless bone structure. That face, those eyes…! I would be a fool to let such an opportunity go!”

Damian’s foot slammed into Pyg’s chest. A sickening crunch filled the room. Pyg screeched as he stumbled backwards.

[sushirrrry]

wrangled

a harry styles one-shot. 14k words. cw: age-gap, sexual content, spitting, spanking, squirting, dirty talk, humiliation kink, coarse language, dom/sub kink

Forte Ranch.

Kettle Falls, Washington.

June Forte is the 24 year old daughter of Travis Forte– the owner of the largest bison ranch in eastern Washington. When she returned home from college, her wishes of becoming a teacher in the area land her with a few different jobs– one that also includes the family business.

It's not lost on her that when she starts noticing that a superbly handsome, older ranch-hand who introduces himself in a deep-posh accent as Harry Styles, that she seems to lose a bit of focus on the picture: make enough money to leave Kettle Falls for good.

But, the older man seems to keep running into her no matter how many times she tries to leave. Maybe, she recognizes, that it isn't a coincidence.

When Harry and June are one day left alone, the tensions are higher than ever. Once June gets a taste, her intuition starts to let her know that maybe seeing the dimples underneath the brim of the Stetson is easier to lean into rather than run from.

He's not letting her run away that easy.

"Goddamnit, Fury– let's go!"

She pulled at the lead; the rope pulled at her hands a bit when the horse continued to stand his ground, obviously more powerful than her.

A quick sigh, a puff of air to move some of the hair off of her face. June couldn't help but groan at the horse's stubbornness that kept him inside the confines of his stall.

She had a lesson in an hour now. Not that it would have been a huge deal— the family that she taught for were very laid back, but her need to follow a schedule made Fury's outburst quite annoying as it would take a bit of time to get him out now.

The horse-riding lessons that she had been giving were supplementing the cash flow through the summer. Next year, she would be starting a position as a teacher at one of the local schools in the area. June had gone to school in Seattle; it was the biggest culture shock for her when she arrived in the big city.

From growing up on the ranch to moving to the big city with just what she could fit in her dad's pick-up–she had loved every moment of it. She loved seeing the way that the traffic built up everywhere in the early mornings, the honking horns, the sleepy travelers in the coffee shops every morning.

It was a learning experience that she had been blessed with. But, in reality, her heart stayed in the eastern mountains; the smell of the fresh air every morning gave her such a high that she hadn't been expecting to miss with her whole heart.

Living on this ranch, in this small town, had been in her heart this whole time. She hadn't recognized how much of her she still had to learn.

When you're young, you want so bad to leave. Then, you see the rest of the world, and you find home so much more appealing. It feels secure, it feels like a place that you can come back to when you're finished exploring.

It's a place to relax. A place to replenish. A place to house your soul.

Now, she say her fighting with her horse who seemed to have the upper-hand.

"Fury, if you don't come on," She rubbed the horse's nose, giving him a look as he tilted up his head quickly. "You're being so stub—"

"Might wanna give him something to entice him."

The sound behind her makes June jump with a fright, a gasp escaping as she had been lost in her own world. There's a man standing on the opposite side of her now, unlocking the gate of the horse stall. She hadn't noticed him before, so she wondered how long he had been standing there watching her struggle with the ropes her hands. 

A chestnut mare stands, grunts softly in front of him as he looks back at her. June recognized the man, which didn't seem to happen often. The farm has lots of people coming through, many stay for weeks– months, maybe. The summer months are preparing for the winter; she knew that a lot more came around at this time of the year.

But she recognized him.

There wasn't a person who wouldn't.

The man's accent threw her for a moment– not realizing if she had heard him speak before. She mustn't have, or she'd know the low drawl of a foreign tongue.

But there's a few certain men that have been around for a bit. This man, in particular, she thought. He wears his hair longer, a bit down on his ears. He pushes it back into his Stetson, the chocolate curls have grown every time she sees him closer.

He has a soft scruff along his jawline that was really only visible up close; a white tank top that has seen better days when it was a pure white on the rack. June lets her eyes wander for a moment before she sees that he notices, a hint of pink painting her cheeks as she watches that he seems to go on about his day without another word.

Not to mention: if you stared at him in the heat of the eastern Washington sun, it was entirely too close to see the shade of green that his eyes shone. They practically became translucent at how luminous they became.

June was a bit taken; her hands adjust on the lead as she watched the man throw a bridle over the large mare's nose. He clicked his tongue to get her to follow, the mare following him out of the stall easily. June watched at how easy it was; she knew Fury was a bit hard-headed to begin with, so it couldn't have been that easy no matter what he had said to her.

As the man started walking away just a bit, Fury took a step forward which helped June aid him out of the stall. It threw her for a moment, her body moving forward to help lead the horse where he needed. He followed, though a bit slowly as he shook his head when she pulled in the lead towards the saddling. 

"See, told you," The man spoke once again, nodding his head a bit towards his mare, "Men are always enticed by pretty ladies."

He had taken the saddle off of the stand, throwing it over the mare's back. June's eyes stared at the way his muscles popped through the sleeveless shirt, pushing the heavy riding saddle up further on the horses back.

"Going for a ride?" The man spoke again, watching as June hooked Fury up to stand so that he was secured. June hadn't spoken yet, feeling her voice caught in her throat over the way that he had been a bit chatty with her.  Her eyes drifted over to him, knowing he had been talking to her again which elicited a response.

She bit her lip, pulling up on the loops of her jeans that hugged around the curve of her hips.

"No, I teach, actually." June commented, brushing down Fury's neck before pushing some of his mane out of his eyes.

The horse chewed a bit, making her smile as his lips tried to nip at her arm. "Have a lesson soon. He's the best with kids, gives them a hard time but it's good for them to learn how to be a bit more assertive. He listens when you're real strict with him, just not well."

"Really all the qualities of a man, huh?" The man smirked; they stood next to each other at the station before June looked over and he had started to move towards her. His hand outreached, his eyes truly on her now as they became closer with each step he took. "Harry Styles."

June swallowed back, her hand moving out towards his as they locked together in a moment. "June Forte. You're a worker here?"

Harry's eyes shift for a moment when he notices the deep blue of her eyes and the familiarity of her generational smile. His tongue flicks out to run over his bottom lip as he lets his eyes drag over her a moment. June squirms under his vision, her breath halted as he takes his hand away and their touch loosens.

"And this is your ranch, I presume." He speaks, his words standing in the air.

June shrugs her shoulders up as if his comment didn't mean much. "Not mine– well, my family's, so technically will be mine or my siblings someday. My dad's dream was to own it, and I guess now he does. Was my grandads, and my great-grandads. He built it, and it's just a family heirloom now. But yeah– we live up there."

Harry's breath baited for a moment, a small scoff of a chuckle leaving his lips as he moved back towards the mare. The mare stomped on the ground, his hand moving to comfort her outburst.

"Guess I don't need to be flirting with the ranch owner's daughter, then. May be a conflict of interest."

June raised a brow at his words, feeling a hotness come across her neck as she moved to throw the big brush through Fury's chestnut coat. She faced away from him now, her head turning to look over her shoulder at the way he continued to smirk at her.

For the first time in a while, June's sharp tongue felt dull. She didn't know what to say as she felt some hair fall into her face as she managed to push the heavy brush through the horse's coat.

"Never been a huge rule follower, though." He followed up, pulling the reins of the tacked horse; he walked backwards out of the barn with his eyes on June– the shape of her body only let his eyes fall down and around her curves.

A soft chuckle came from her lips as she heard the clicking of his tongue, guiding the mare out. "Easy, cowboy." She called back, in a surprising quip, "My ranch, my rules."

"So now you're the boss?" He quipped, "giving me mixed signals, June." Harry paused for a moment, giving her a moment to comeback.

"Let's just say I'm pretty close to the guy in charge." June tilted her head, "But I'd say that flirting with the boss's daughter isn't in your best interest if you want to stick around."

June watched the man quickly bite his lip as if he was stopping himself from another remark.

"We'll see about that one." He called back, his boots crunching on the gravel once again, his eyes staying on her even when leading the large horse out of the barn. "Might be the opposite effect if I'm lucky."

June bit her lip at the thought of him– wondering if he had seen her before. Her legs adjusted just at the thought of his low, raspy voice. She hasn't heard it before, but now all she could hear was his words in the back of her head.

"Hope you find a four-leaf clover out there, gonna need it." June said back, watching as he moved away, a wink flying back at her.

She huffed, looking at her horse before a shake of her head made her feel a bit dizzy.

Maybe it wasn't the head shake that made her feel that way.

***

The following morning, Fury continued to give June quite a time. He was a stubborn horse, but she knew that he trusted her and vice versa. June never felt that she had a problem with him, he had been her horse for over ten years now.

June grew up with horses, riding and watching them was in her blood. She loved riding and watching people become more comfortable as they rode more. It was a pleasure for her to teach young kids to be comfortable and confident while riding, especially when it taught discipline and hard work.

Nothing about riding horses was easy– she continued to learn that the hard way. It took trust, and lots of effort to make sure that the animal underneath you trusted every part of you. The hardest part was putting your life in their hands. But, it was always worth taking that chance.

He kicked a few times, the young girl that she had for the lesson this morning was mostly scared that she was going to fall off. June reassured her that she would hold his lead, but that she needed to be strong.

"When you're scared, he's going to be scared," June tried to reassure her, watching the young girl— her name was Natasha, she was around eleven. "You have to be in control of him, and he's going to respond to you. But we can end the lesson a bit early if you're feeling some nerves— that's okay, too."

Natasha gave June a look; she was unsure, and June could read all over it. However, Natasha pushed through some of her nerves, which led to June eventually letting go of the reins and letting the girl trot some laps around the outside arena space.

"You got it!" She yelled over, staying on the fence, her eyes lighting up at the girl's excitement over her accomplishments of getting the horse to where she wanted him. "Let's loop around one more time, and then bring it back to the center."

June pushed her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. The outside training grounds was a large area of the ranch, covered by trees and small patches of grass. She tucked some hair behind her ear that had fallen out of the messy bun she pulled at the base of her neck.

A small noise caught her attention as she started to make her way to the center of the arena to meet Fury and Natasha. June bit on her lip as she squinted in the early morning sun that was casting over the field down to the bison pasture. The gates had opened, watching the man from earlier in the saddle atop the chestnut mare.

His head turned to check that the smaller bison calves had made their way through to the other side of the fence.

"Shut 'em in!" He yelled, pulling at the reins of his horse before the other ranch-hand pulled at the metal gate on the other side.

The field sat opposite of the smaller training field that had been built for June's benefit; she absolutely loved teaching, loved the elements of getting young riders out on the back of a horse to feel the fresh breeze in their hair. It had been so therapeutic to her growing up when everything felt that it could have fallen apart at any moment— this was her world.

Growing up on the ranch had been a saving grace for her. It was the yin to the yang of the city that she had grown to love. She had never had the opportunity to fall in love with another place like she had with Seattle.

It didn't hurt that these were the kinds of views that she had, either.

June hadn't been paying attention as she heard her name being called; her head whipped around as she watched Fury stomp a few times and start to buck and push the young girl. June watched her expression as she held at the fence, watching the young girl struggle with the large stallion.

"Hold on, Natasha!" June yelled, sitting up on the large fence before she cupped her hands over her mouth, "Pull the reins real hard to the left!"

She could see the fear on the girls face as she tried to brace, tried to do what June had told her to. She wasn't strong enough to manage the horse as her foot slid from the saddle and her body flung to the side and off into the dirt of the ring.

June gasped outwardly with a few curses as she ran towards where the girl was flung off. Fury moved away now that she felt safe enough that she could grab her and move out of the ring. She felt horrible not being to stop it before it started, not reading the language of the horse before it was too late.

"Are you okay, sweetie?" June asked, the young girl sitting up on her elbows as she tried to brush herself off. "You're not hurt, are you? Nothing feels broken?"

She shook her head, the helmet bearing her fall as she seemed to just be a bit more traumatized than hurt. The adrenaline must've been moving through her as they stood up, June helping her as she looked around the ring to notice that the horse had made his way out of the ring through the gate she had opened, ready to lead them out.

"Shit!" June yelled out, her head moving around at an attempt to find the horse that had been trotting away. She tucked the hair behind her ear as she turned to look around.

"I'm so sorry," Natasha started, obviously in shock, "I-I didn't– I got scared."

June turned to the girl, shaking her head profusely. "No, no, sweetie. It's fine– as long as you're okay."

June took Natasha out of the ring, climbing up the fence and over to the grassy knoll. Her hands landed on her hips as she searched around for Fury who had gotten loose.

"Fuck," She whispered under her breath.

She didn't expect him to get so agitated. She hasn't had that happen before, which set her alert on high. Fury was the horse that she trained on, and without him, she couldn't hold onto her lesson schedule.

The next one was in twenty minutes, so she needed to figure out a plan on how to catch him.

The first part of the plan was to find the horse that had seemingly run away and out of the gate. Her attention moved back towards the young girl, who had taken off her helmet and seemed to have calmed down just a bit. She rubbed at her elbow that had a bit of a scratch.

"You head back to barn," She told Natasha, "If you see him, holler really loud for me. I'm going to go to the other fields, see if I can catch him."

The young girl agreed, making her way back down to the barns where her mother had been while she took the lesson. She would tell them what had happened, and to make sure they could catch him if he got around.

June started up towards the bison fields– the ranch handlers had been up there just a few moments prior to the incident, and she may have an idea of where the horse had run to. The property was large, almost three hundred acres of land. But, with the number of trees and wooded miles, it would be harder to catch him than it was with the open spaces.

The Forte ranch was surrounded by mountainous regions, which was good for the bison and the elk that were seemingly farmed in the area. June's family kept bison and yak, which was separate to the ranches out in the southwest. Their ranch was green and grassy, surrounded by lakes and streams with glaciers and chilly mornings.

The summer heat didn't always feel like summer, which was what made the mornings so delightful. It was June's favorite parts about the lifestyle of working outside, she felt like there was so much more to see and so much more to take in. It was her own sense of meditation.

"Hey," June called out to the two men sitting on the fences. "Did you see my horse run by? He threw my rider off and fled, and I didn't really see where he went."

The two men seemingly similar looked at one another before shaking their head, practically ignoring her as they continued to haul a few bales of hay into a truck that was backed up to the fence. "Sorry, hon, no."

June placed her hands in her back pockets before she stared at them for a moment. "Okay, well, he's black. Long white stripe down his nose, kinda pink on the end. His name is Fury, but he doesn't usually respond," She blinked a few times, starting to ramble as she thought for a moment, "Probably why he's being a pain in the ass."

She could tell that the men were seemingly uncaring for her request, so she sniffled out of awkwardness before her boots started to move her to the other end of the field.

A good thirty minutes flew by as she walked along the edges of the property, whistling softly for any sight of where the horse could've gone. The sudden sound of clicking made her head turn towards the wooded area; a strike of fear spooking her as she turned. It wasn't that she feared being on her own, but something about being vulnerable ate away at her.

Her heart instantly dropped as she saw two horses, one ridden and the other being held close by the familiar leather reins. The rider in question familiar as she felt her lips quirk up in a smirk at the look on the man's face. She released the breath she had been holding in.

"Think you're supposed to stay on the horse, not let him run away." The deep voice teased. He had been holding the reins of Fury while riding his own.

"He threw my rider," She told him, "I was trying to make sure that she was okay, and he ran off."

"She was quite young," He commented, obviously seeming a bit worried now. He slowed his horse down, the horse standing in front of June as she went to pet down the mare's nose. It crossed her mind that he had noticed her earlier, possibly been staring. "Was she okay?"

June shrugged, nodding. "No broken bones. Maybe a bit of broken spirit."

"You know what they say," He licked over his lip, "Gotta' get back in the saddle." It was then that a smile broke on his face, which halted her breath at the beauty of it.

She laughed at his dry humor, raising her brows. "They do say that, but I'm going to have to do a bit more training with him. He needs to be better for younger riders."

Harry threw the reins over his horse's head, June caught them in her own grip. She looked back up at him again with a small smile. "I appreciate your help– catching him and all that."

"Pretty good portion of my job," He told her, turning the horse a bit so he could face her better.

June had started to lead the horse back in the direction of where the ring and the barn were before Harry stopped her with his words.

"C'mon, hop on," He told her, shifting in his saddle, "We're almost a mile away. You don't want to have to walk."

June's eyes shifted a bit as she pulled at Fury's lead, walking backwards as she thinks about his request for a moment. It catches her off guard, but she shakes her head.

"I think I can walk," She assures him him with a chuckle. He sways a bit in the saddle as he starts after them, obviously going in the same direction.

"Didn't say you couldn't," He remarks back, June hears his tone and looks back instantly, watching his eyes lay on her. Her stomach dropped at the way his gaze felt; his words playing off the sharpness of his jaw, "Also wasn't looking for an answer, just action."

June eyed him for a moment, almost a stand off from her spot on the ground. She inhaled sharply before she bit the inside of her cheek. She didn't understand the feeling in her chest that had anchored its way down to a bit of heat. The authoritative speaking of his voice made her swallow.

"But what if I wanted to walk?"

June watches the twitch of his face when she denied him– when she didn't do as he asked. When she didn't succumb to his request; which, she was learning was more of a nice way to demand rather than request.

The man slipped off the saddle, moving away from the mare before he was now standing in front of June with her hair pulled from her face. The freckles on her nose were surrounded by a bit of sun-kiss, which the man took as a reward for being so close. His eyes trained in her for a moment before he noticed the hitch in her breath as they were toe to toe.

June subconsciously took a small step back before she felt the touch of his hand on her wrist. Her eyes stayed along the collar of the navy t-shirt that seemed a bit pulled at the collar. While a contrast to the white tank he wore yesterday, this accentuated the bronze of his skin from working out in the summer heat. The warmth of the summer sun has bronzed him, leaving the ink of his arms darker in contrast.

He took a package out of his back pocket, the cigarette between his fingers and dangling from his mouth now as his bright green eyes have a playful lift to them. She watches him teasingly as he lets it dangle from his tongue before placing one on her lip too, waiting for her lip to catch it.

She doesn't tell him that she only smokes when she can't sleep, or when she's stressed out by something her family has said. But she doesn't say anything, just sends him a smirk as they stand toe to toe. His fingers snap the lighter to his, hers next as he takes a draw.

"Anyone looking for you?" His voice was as smooth as leather as he kept his eyes directed to the way her cheeks sunk into breath in the smoke.

"Probably." She responds, drawing her lips between her teeth. She felt the stare down but folded as soon the dimple popped through the right of his cheek. "I have a lesson that should be starting."

He shrugged, "Your horse ran off, nothing you can do."

June went to speak, her head turning towards Fury before Harry looked down the gravel road towards the home– over a mile away like he had mentioned.

Her words got caught in her throat before she can respond, just putting the cigarette up to her lips before she licked her tongue over her bottom lip that had turned into a smile. June bites the inside of her cheek before she looks over Harry who's already moving away from her.

"What're you doing back here?" He asked her, his European accent ringing a bit different, "thought you moved to the city."

Her thoughts ran to the fact that he knew that much about her. She wondered if her dad had mentioned her before, or if he was just paying attention. Either way, her answer to him stayed true.

"I knew I wanted to work my way back here," June told him honestly, "I wanted to work back home. But I need to save some money."

Harry bit his lip as he held the reins of the horse, pulling his over just a bit to start back down the path. It was slow, but it was moving a bit. June knew she was late to her riding session, but she figured it would've been fine anyways– she wasn't going to let her students ride Fury at this point.

"You're young," Harry told her with a chuckle, as if he was trying to explain the world to her, "You've got to explore a bit before moving back home. How do you think I got here?"

June tucked some loose hair behind her ear, "How did you end up here, I mean? It's quite far."

"Five thousand miles, give or take." He tells her, walking alongside her now. They seem to be moving at a slower pace. Either way, Harry knew that he wanted to be next to her.

June took a last draw of her cigarette, throwing it on the gravel. "Way too far for me. I'd miss my family way too much."

Harry flicked the cigarette, the ashes falling a bit before he nodded a few times. "That's because you have a really great family," He looked ahead, chuckling a bit, which June caught before furrowing her brows. "I don't miss my family at all, truthfully. Not much to miss there. So, maybe I just don't get it."

June nodded a few times, understanding the implications and biting her lip at his words. There's silence in the air before she takes in a breath and pressed her lips together then, as if she's trying to find words to help alleviate a pressure that she added in. But, he speaks before she gets a chance to.

"I just think people maybe need to take a few more chances," He says, "Live a little more freely. What's the worst that can happen if you do what you want?"

"Well, most criminals live by that narrative," June tells him, which makes him laugh a little bit at her remarks before she looks at him with the blue eyes that he can't seem to fully grasp could be that color blue.

"Within reason." He adds, and he stops mid step before he watches as she turns to face him at his abrupt stop in the road.

June looks at him, a fluttering feeling in her stomach as his body moves, letting the leather reins go before he stops in front of her again. It's the proximity that sends her thoughts on a tailwind of what could happen next; the adrenaline pushes in her veins as she stares up at him. He's closer now than before, his head has dropped a bit so he can really look at her, but she's acknowledged that, pushing her chin up to make sure she can hear exactly what he's saying.

"Maybe it's the fact that I don't like playing by the rules, though." The smell of the tobacco was filling her nose as they stood so close. His eyes remained deferred from hers, watching the way that the lips and chin were pulling up, almost subconsciously.

"Seems a bit criminal, if you ask me." She teased, tilting her head a bit as she begged him to look at her. 

"I mean," He chuckled, letting his fingers move up to her chin as he took it between them to steady her, "It would be criminal to let you beg any longer. Bit pathetic to watch."

"Not begging." She pushed back, pulling her chin away from his grip, which tightened his jaw. She noticed the way that her defiance made him react, which sped her breathing up.

"Tell your body that, sweets," He bit, "I could say anything, and you'll react to it."

He licked over his lips, watching as she tried her best to stay calm, to keep her breath under control. Her lips were pursed, her stance was trying to stand off a bit, but he could see right through her—he saw that she was trying her best to stand on her own but knew that she would fold right then and there.

It was the game that Harry liked, he liked watching how she would react to him when he spoke to her. She was young, practically ten years younger or so, he could assume—she was so impressionable and the fight for dominance was almost sweet. Harry ached as he watched her try to stand him down and his eyes moved to her lips before they drew up to her eyes, watching the ocean waves of blue.

June pulled away, suddenly. She gave him a smirk before she clicked her tongue to have Fury follow her down the road.

"You think you've got me figured out," She called, looking back over her shoulder. "Not going to work with me, cowboy."

Harry bit the inside of his cheek, watching her walk away. His eyes fell to the way that she walked, seeing the swing of her hips as a tactic to use against him. But, he did what he needed to do. He followed close behind, watching her every move—the silence in their walk back not lost on him.

"Something enticing?" June teased, noticing the way that his eyes had danced over her curves from behind. Harry's eyes lifted just a bit, settling in her eyes before he sent a wink her way.

The silence on the walk back to the barns felt good; it felt understood. It's why they both smiled to themselves, neither one seeing the other.

***

"You think I can really pull him?" June looked at Shelby, "He's older– I don't know, Shel."

"You aren't even seeing the way he looks at you," Shelby said to her friend, taking a swig of her beer. He's not taken his eyes off of her, and somehow June knows that deep inside of her, but she can't bring herself to look back at him. She's a bit timid like that; a sharp tongue when confronted, but a tail between her legs when she thinks of it.

The next night, June had gone out with her friend, Shelby, for a drink. It wasn't lost on her that the town was small. Most everyone knew each other, which made the Friday nights out on the town hard to avoid people you didn't want to see.

You really needed to want to be there, or you would be seen by someone you didn't want to see. June hadn't even thought of it when they went out, that she could possibly see him there. After their encounter yesterday morning, June had kept her distance. Not in a way that she felt was stand-offish, but in a way that felt like she was trying her best to let him come to her.

Dating and flirting weren't new to her, but the idea of playing this game scared her a bit. He wasn't new to this; they weren't trying to figure this out together like she had experienced in college. He was older than her, he had experience with this game.

It scared her a bit, because she didn't know how to handle herself in this type of situation. She wanted to come across as confident, but she knew that he had the opportunity to make her fold.

"You need to be drunker," Shelby stated, pushing her half-empty beer to her, watching as June wrapped her hands around the bottle. It was warm to the touch, not fresh in the slightest. "Let's go to the bar to get more."

June looked at her friend after downing the rest before she fully understood what that meant for her.

Shelby had gotten up, which made June follow her. The strawberry blonde realized without another second to spare that she had walked into the lion's den– eyes were on her as she approached the countertop bar.

One pair of eyes, specifically.

At first, she hadn't recognized him. Without the hat and the dirt-ridden t-shirt, she saw the way that the denim jacket hugged his back. The curls had a bit of bounce to them, and her mouth felt dry as she tried her best to divert her attention away.

But they were almost arm and arm and she had wondered if he would notice.

Of course he had. The scent of cherries and lime only made sense when his attention turned back towards a person who had brushed against him now. He had seen her across the room as soon as she came in with her short skirt and boots. He noticed the way that her waist dipped in with the form-fitting top and the slight curl to her hair.

He sat with his beer in his hand, a rowdy few friends were next to him as he kept his attention on her. June felt heat down her neck as she tried to ignore the staring but started to enjoy the feeling of being seen.

"Two whiskey sours," Shelby leaned across the bar to ask for before June looked at her with confusion, knowing that adding a bit of liquor in the mix would either make it better or worse—she didn't know. Her friend smirked at her, watching the bartender start to assemble their drinks.

June kept to herself for a moment before she heard a stealthy voice next to her. The jolt of her head towards him even surprised her as she licked over her lips at the way that he was looking at her.

"You following me, doll?"

June scoffed; her sharp tongue ready. "You don't think I have better things to do?" She quirked her eyebrow at him; feeling the closeness of them as she stood, and he sat on the barstool under the dim light of the grungy pub.

"No," He shook his head, taking a sip from his bottle before he turned to face her now. She was practically between his legs, his knees on either side of her as she stood closer to him than she thought. "I don't think you do."

He looked the same as he had yesterday morning; he was clean shaven on his cheeks, a bit of scruff on his lip and a twinkle in his eye that was undeniable among the green. A denim jacket covering his shoulders and tattooed arms that were on such display this morning. The hair sat longer on top of his head, just enough to add the definitive addition of chocolate curls.

June could barely look at him without her knees buckling at the bar top. But she took the drink from the bartender with confidence, trying to anchor herself.

"Well, you're wrong." June tells him, taking ahold of the cocktail before taking a sip and trying to play hard to get. A game she knew– a game she played far too often.

Harry watched the way she popped her hip, knowing she did it on purpose.

"I'm never wrong," He bit back, still playful. His eyes met June's, and she didn't dare look away. "So, try again."

June cleared her throat, standing against the bar as she let a breath out. What she hadn't anticipated was the way that his bent knee fell behind her own, pulling her closer between his legs at the busy bar.

June went to speak, a small gasp leaving her lips as she placed her hand on his shoulder as she lost a bit of balance. Her hair fell into his face as she felt herself push away. The smirk on his face only made her blush as she pushed off from him.

"Go on," He urged, "Try again."

She raised her eyebrows, noticing her hand still placed on his shoulder. "What if," She cleared her throat, "It's you who is following me?"

Harry took a sip of his beer, lazily, eyes staying on June as he shook his head softly.

" 'Course I am," He bit his lip, "Who wouldn't?"

His honesty came across, making her feel a bit speechless when she looked at him. She downed a good amount of the whiskey drink quickly, knowing that the quicker it went down, the quicker she'd feel it.

"Looks like what I said about criminal activity seems to be true," She let the straw of the drink rest on her tongue as she looked at him, "You're a bit no good."

"Never denied it," He downed a bit more of his drink before he raised his brow at her, "But you keep coming back, don't you?"

Her tongue rested on the straw, playing with it a little bit as she felt the flirtatious spirit running through her. The cat and the mouse were at their height, now.

"Just gathering all the facts on why I should stay away," She told him, pushing her hair back off of her shoulder. The small top only leaving little to the imagination; Harry tried to hold it together as he swallowed dryly.

"How's that working out for you?" He asked, his hand making its way to her hip as he pulled her a bit closer. June took a step, finding her balance as she stared at him for a moment. He knew the look on her face as he had seen that look a few times before.

A part of him felt the words deeper, which initiated him to reach for his wallet.

"Mind if you let me drive you home?" His voice was thick with a dry, hoarseness that only solidified her position backing into his lap.

June practically melted at his touch, his hand on her hip as she nodded a few times before turning towards him then.

"Don't think that should be a problem." She muttered over the music playing across the bar.

June's eyes found Shelby who was standing at the bar, just a few people over before she winked at them. She moved away, just so that Harry could stand on his feet as she watched the man throw a fifty down on the counter to cover the drinks.

"Drinking fifty dollars' worth and then driving me home?" Her attention turned towards the man as he gave her a lazy smile. "Feels a bit dangerous to get in the car with a drunk stranger."

"Feel like it's my job to pay for you too if I'm getting you to leave your friend to come spend time with me, hm?" Harry walked backwards a bit, reaching for her hand before they reached the door to the bar. "You looked like you were having a good time. But I got something to show you."

Her hand fit into his, her breathing escalating just a bit at the way that he maneuvered her grip, making his stronger instantly as he led them back to the Ford pickup he sport around town.

"I was having a good time," She tells him with a bit of a flirty essence, one that held a bit of attitude as far as he was concerned, "And now you're taking me from it. Wherever you're taking me must be pretty good."

Harry bit on his lip as he sniffles, scrunching his nose at her comment. Her comment only pressing his buttons.

"I'd apologize but I don't know if I'm sorry." He commented, cocking his head.

"You'll only have to apologize if I'm left disappointed–"

When they reached the blue pick-up, his hands instantly grabbed at her hips. They pushed her body into the iron to hold her captive against the side of the truck. It wasn't hard enough to hurt her, but hard enough to ground her. She hoped there'd be a small amount of pain as a reminder of the moment.

"You're not gonna question me, are you?" He asked her with the softest voice; the threat in his tone only heightened her senses as she flinched at the way he spoke.

The inside of her thighs fluttered at his growl of a voice. "N-No," June answered, "No, no, never."

His lips brushed against the side of her ear, pulling his body away from her just for a moment before he nodded and found the moment to understand her.

"Good girl," He praised, moving his hands upwards to her waist. The slim part of her torso melted into a perfect hourglass figure. Her hips were wide and held his sight, but his hands loved the feeling of the curve.

June's breath halted at the way that he held her– at first with a physical grip so tight, and then an invisible string of persistence.

The small pub rested just on the outskirts, in the mountains, but just far enough from the ranch. The radio played lightly; the windows were rolled down as the horizon line were just baring a bit of light.

Harry had driven the truck up to one of the horse barns that sat just close to June's guest house, where she had been staying. It was a bit further on the property, but she drove past it almost every day.

"What are we doing here?" She questioned him before he opened the door. He went to the other side to help her out, taking her hand as she jumped down. He had taken her waist in his hands to help her, the touch of him on her was enough to make her breathing hitch.

"Have something to show you, I told you." He said, taking her hand in his as he led her back up to the darkened barn. When they arrived at the open door, he flickered on a switch that gave the large space a bit of light.

When they both walked into the small barn, the only lights were overhead, the sound of the crickets chirping filled the silence. June followed Harry's lead before she noticed that they stopped at the stall at the end of the row, down closer to the tack room.

"Here we are," Harry nodded, leaning his arms on the side of the stall gate. When June turned towards the mother horse and baby that were laying on the ground before them. She felt her heart melt at the sight of the small, brown foal that had two white spots on the top of its forehead.

"Oh my god," She gasped, watching as Harry smiled at her surprise. "Aren't they the sweetest thing?"

"He was born this morning," Harry leaned against the gate, watching the two horses on the ground before he turned back to June. The mare simply in awe of the small baby, seemingly tired as she laid next to him. "Needs a name."

"The ranch has a history of naming them after the stars, you know," June tells him, walking over to the little foal. His legs tucked under him, two bright white spots perfectly in the middle of his forehead.

June leans down a bit, hesitant not to scare him. Her hand reaches out to pet the small foal before she runs over hand over the white spots.

"Well, mum is Forager of Stardust," He tells her, keeping against the gate with his arms crossed, "So, we'll keep it in the family."

June starts to giggle as she turns back to Harry, eyes wide, "Ziggy Stardust– hands down, has to be."

"Ziggy Stardust? Alright, then. Sounds like a perfect name to me." Harry questions with a laugh; his smile becoming a bit more than the typical lazy one he likes to sport. June noticed that the crinkles by his eyes were a bit more defined, her nods insinuating her answer.

June turned back to the little foal before watching as his dark brown eyes blinked a few times with the lashes so long and fluttered. Her heart was built from the small creatures around the farm, the life that had been put into this lifestyle.

It reminded her of the sweetness; the parts of her life that continued to only get better the older she got and the more she enjoyed the peacefulness of simplicity.

This was it– this was the simplicity she craved. The rebirth, the gentle touches that reminded her of what life really was all about. She loved watching the ranch run on its own, watching as it grew everyday with small details.

Harry had moved towards a bale of hay that sat in the corner, taking a seat on it as he leaned against the stable wall. He watched June nuzzling the foal before she turned her head towards him again. He gave her a tilted smirk, dimple pressing into his cheek as he watched the nurturing love that nestled out of her.

"Did you grow up on a farm?" She asked, looking back at him before standing up from her spot. She managed to make her way through the tall stable hay before taking a seat on the bale with him. The small spot was snug, but neither of them seemed to mind.

"I did," He nodded a few times, "But it was a lot different. Sheep and goat, mostly. England is also a bit flatter, so it was a lot easier to ride than it is here. But I just figured that this would be a bit of an adventure."

"Think you made a good choice?" June asked, crossing her arms as her legs settled straight out just like his.

Harry raised his brows before he felt that he couldn't stop himself from smiling all the sudden. He wanted to believe that the few beers had something to do with it, hours ago now, but he knew that it wasn't. His eyes were downcast as he started to nod a few times.

"The views here are incredible." He answered, looking up at her, "But the scenery around here is good, too."

June nodded a few times, sniffling.

Harry decided to return the question, looking back at her. "Do you think you made the right choice coming back home? Assuming you liked the city, I guess."

June shrugged her shoulders, knowing that being home was always difficult in some capacity. She loved her family, loved the ease of being able to go places and knowing exactly what to expect. Home seemed to be a place that was easily accessible to her, all the time. Her family would always bring her back—she always knew that she could lean on them without an issue or judgement of feeling pressured to leave.

"I think I made the right choice to come home and to do what feels easy right now," She nodded a few times, "I think coming home from college is scary because you're like," She shrugged, "You feel like you don't have a direction anymore. You're in school practically your whole life—it's all you know. And then to think that you could go somewhere else and live a new life after that. It's just a lot. They're letting me stay in the guesthouse until I can get my bearings."

Harry understood, to some degree. But he was the opposite—if it wasn't new, it wasn't exciting. He wanted to see new things and to not see the same view twice. It meant that you weren't settled, even though the idea of settling wasn't bad. It was just different.

"It's probably good to know that you have a space in the world somewhere," He agreed, settling a bit, "I understand that. I didn't go to college, but I get that you want to feel like you're... you. And you're not having to reintroduce yourself to a new place or new people."

"My family knows exactly who I am," She smiled, "And that's what I want right now."

That was the truth—June wanted to just stay here until she was able to get her own place, maybe down the road. She could have the best of both worlds—one day she'd be able to live on her own, but still be able to stay connected to the place that felt so close to her heart. Teaching riding lessons was her only income, but it helped pay her loans and aided in her weekend ventures with her friends, specifically Shelby.

There wasn't much more she could have wanted now. Happiness seemed to manifest itself in the little things.

But, of course, after the small incident with Fury yesterday morning, she didn't know that she would have been able to trust him. It felt that there was more she could do about it, but she knew that his outbursts had been due to her lack of maintaining his trust and boundaries. He was also just an asshole half the time, and it wasn't something that she could put up with if he continued.

June sighed a bit, thinking of it when she noticed that Harry had taken interest in her sudden displeasure.

"What's wrong?" He asked. She blinked a few times, watching as he seemed to understand that her sigh was of annoyance.

"Well, I'm not going to be able to give anymore lessons until I can get Fury figured out," She shook her head, watching the man as he listened to her quandary. "I have to get him straightened out or I'll have to get another horse ready just to train on, and work with Fury until then."

Harry bit the inside of his cheek as he let his eyes move to the side, seeing if he would get the reaction he was looking for.

"Bet you're a real good rider, huh?" He teased, poking his tongue into the side of his cheek as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Probably give good lessons, too."

June pulled her lips into her mouth to keep from the smirk that was approaching, but she rolled her eyes instead. "What a line."

"I'm just asking!" He lifted his hands in defense as he chuckled out a bit, "Was maybe looking into some lessons to help you out."

Their outstretched legs bumped into one another as she pulled at bent knee up to hug into her chest. "I charge a hefty fee."

Harry shrugged, running his hand through his hair. The unruly curls were a bit out of control as he sniffled gently at the way that the hay tickled his nose. "I'll pay up-front."

June shifted her jaw as she licked over her lips. It was a bit dangerous, this game that they were playing. But she had an idea in her brain that she was going to take his advice.

What was the worst that could happen?

She sat up, back straight. Her eyes were downcast as she looked over at him, then. He didn't know how to respond to her stare before he felt the way that she pushed her knee over his lap. Her hands steadily placing on his shoulder as he looked up at her with a smirk that said all of the words that she desperately needed to hear.

"Alright, then," She sunk her teeth into her bottom lip, "Let me give you a lesson or two, cowboy." Her hips sank into his pelvis, pushing gently with the added pressure as she took a seat like he had inquired for.

Harry sat up a bit straighter, watching as she straightened up, too. Her skirt flowed over her thighs as he let his hands place on the outside of her hip for helping her balance. A smirk coated her blushing cheeks as she tucked her hair behind her ear in a nervous habit.

"I'm already learning so much," He teased her, waiting for her to make another move. She thought she may have a grasp on how to approach him but became nervous as she started to take charge. It was evident to him as she settled into his lap, but he loved the initiative.

They faced one another and she bit her lip at the way that he talked to her. He paid attention to her, let his hands get to know her before he pressed further.

"Dare you to kiss me, though." He said to her, watching as she gave him a look of confusion. She chuckled at him, as she shook her head, but he just smirked, "No one can pass up a dare."

She did exactly as he had dared, pressing down so their lips met. It was like finding water in the desert as she immediately pushed forward, needing more as soon as she got a taste. Her hips rolled at the feeling of his hand making its way to the back of her neck, almost like he was guiding her closer. He was showing her what she needed without words.

The kiss allowed him to press his tongue into her mouth which elicit a whimper from her, his cock straining underneath the jeans that she had been pressing on. He followed, letting his own whimper strain out at the thought of her pressed against him. The skirt not allowing anything between them except the panties he imagined she'd have on.

Deepening the kiss, he pulled her hips forward just enough that he was allowing her hips to ride into him. The coolness of his belt made her shiver, her thighs immediately reacting to the touch.

"You wanna let me take the reins?" He offered, his voice deep and raw as he felt the closeness of them. Her back arched into him, his words giving her a break as she nodded fervently.

"Please?" She asked, practically pleading.

It didn't take any longer before he threw his arm around her, picking her up into his lap as he found the grounding of his feet. Swiftly, he held her up on his waist as she wrapped her legs around his middle, holding on as they pressed their way through the barn.

The small tack closet next to the stable was the closest they got before he threw open the door and led them in.

Harry threw her on the table, letting her sit as he continued to let his lips fall over her again and again. With her help, his hands pulled the denim off of his arms and back, pieces of clothing seem to fall off easily.

He gently allowed his hand to move to the inside of her thigh, pressing down a bit to gauge her reaction.

Her skin was hot, his eyes were down as he guided his hand to the place that she needed him most.

"Please, please," She continued to plead, his ears ringing from the way that she needed. It was so innocent and cute, almost like she hadn't any idea how badly he could wreck her.

"Turn around." He demanded, pulling away just enough to give her room to move. When she didn't, all he saw was a deer in headlights, watching him for a moment like she didn't know what he was asking of her. She swallowed, licking over her lips as she got to her feet.

Her slow movement initiated him to grab her by the hips to turn her around quickly. His hand pressed on her back, pushing her to her elbows on the deck of the tack room.

"When was the last time you were fucked?"

Her throat was tight just at the words that left his mouth; her breathing racing as she anticipated the quickness of this. She had been waiting for it; hoping he'd understand she had been quietly asking for this.

"Been a while," She answered breathlessly, her legs pushed apart as he stood behind her. The flow of the skirt barely covered over her ass before he pushed it up to reveal it all. "N-Not that long."

His eyes grew three sizes larger as he took in the detail of the black lace that lay over her milky skin.

Harry pulled himself down, letting his knees sink to the ground. His eyes were level with the lace as he quickly let his fingers rest on the waistband, pulling them off of her and down her thighs.

She gasped at the feeling, his eyes never leaving.

"Goddamn," He commented, his thumb pressing softly into her. She jerked forward at the initial contact, eyes shutting as she leaned into his touch. "Knew it," He chuckled, "Knew you'd get yourself wet for me."

His thumb moved out slowly, her reaction exactly what he wanted. She pulled back with him, wanting to be filled– he knew exactly where he needed to get her.

"Needy," He berate, his words having a bit of edge. Her eyes flickered open as she gasped at the feeling of his hand slapping the harness of her skin. His thumb removed as he spanked her again, lurching her forward. "So fucking greedy."

Her knees trembled at the feeling, left untouched as he stood behind her. The sound of his belt made her eyes shut as he undid the button on his jeans and smirked at the way she settled underneath him.

"Don't mind that we don't have a condom, right?" He asked, his hand moving to the reddened spot on her skin that she ached took feel again. He smirked, knowing the words he would say would only make her a bit restless. "Can wait if you really need me to."

Her head turned around, her lips a bit raw from where she had been nibbling on it.

"No," She shook her head, "No– no. I'm safe, we're okay." She pleaded, and his smirked lifted at her neediness.

His hands pulled on her hips to arch just a bit for him. June quickly felt the teasing way his tip pressed against her soaked cunt, her hands turned white knuckled as she gripped tightly onto the wood. It was just the feeling alone– she hadn't even seen him, but her anticipation was high.

"Just letting you know," He pressed the tip right into the softness between her, giving her a sensation of euphoria just from how turned on she had been. She let out a moan, her eyes shutting. "We play by my rules. When I say down, you go down. When I say suck, you suck. No backtalking. I'm giving you the best fuck of your life, so you listen to me to get what I know you want. Got it?"

He hadn't even given her a reason to moan, her words caught in her throat as she nodded with. A subtle whimper— the strawberry blonde hair flinging over her shoulder as he moved it away. His lips found their home on the back of her neck, sucking gently at the skin.

"You're going to be such a good girl, though, aren't you? You would never disobey me, huh?" He cooed; his lips continued to ravish at her hair line as she threw her head back in an ache to feel the pleasure he was offering.

June's hips moved back gently, but his hands gripped at her before she could push herself onto him. The slight action gave him a sense of power; his hand smacking onto the curve of her.

The cracking sound familiar to one of a whip— she gasped at the feeling, her eyes closing shut just at the pain that radiated in such a burning sensation.

"Fuck," She whispered, knowing that she was simply dripping at the need. She had never been in a position of such need— she had never needed someone to give her what she needed in such a way that it brought tears to her eyes just to think about it. "I-I'm sorry— I—"

"I'm not." He stated, his breath hot on her neck. A coolness laying underneath—the metal of the cross hitting at her shoulder when he grabbed her hips towards him. When he pushed in, it took a fluid motion before they both moaned out in pleasure. It was a shock of intensity that Harry had truly never felt before.

Sure, he'd been in this position before— but like this? He had been with beautiful women, seen beautiful things. But the enticing scent of wildflowers and sweet vanilla only flourished as his nose brushed the softness of her shoulder.

Harry tried to keep his composure— trying to follow the red behind his eyes, but suddenly feeling the urge to cum at any moment which made him a bit nervous at the quick build-up. It was exceptionally better than he had expected; he had been more turned-on than he had thought.

His forehead rested on her shoulder blade; the small strap of her tank-top the only small detail that was between his forehead and her skin. Harry bit his lip slightly as he wondered when he would be ready to pull out to continue fucking her into an oblivion that would send her to the stars.

But he felt incredibly, incredibly close to the edge just at the initial feeling of her. He grunted in a bit of frustration as he shook his head to try to clear all the thoughts that had gathered there. The curls of his hair fell into his eyes as he shook his head. His hands kneaded into the fleshy skin that curved over the small skirt that still rested on her thighs. He had just pushed it up enough to give himself access to what he really needed.

Focus, he thought to himself.

"You are so goddamn tight," He watched as her back arched a bit at his words. Her chin turned to the side, just enough where he could now see her side profile. Her eyes were shut, mouth parted in a small, dainty way. "No one's fucked you in a while, have they, darling? You lie to me?"

Harry pulled himself out just a bit, watching where they connected as he felt himself slip back in. The tightness surrounding him made his eyes clamp shut. She felt incredible to him on every level that he couldn't think of anything else that moment.

It was dizzying.

"N-No, not like you— not like this," June muttered. The way that her hands gripped over the table in the tack room was almost pain to her fingertips. "You're so deep, fuck."

The sound of her voice elicits a response of his hips bucking into her, the rasp and grunt of June's voice painted a beautiful picture in his memory.

"You like me deep like that?"  Harry licked over his lips, eyes moving down her body as he moved his leg to her thigh. "Pull this up on the table— go on," He urged, "it'll be good for you."

June felt the pat on her thigh, Harry's hands slid the remaining clothes down her legs to leave her completely free on the bottom. He pulled out for a moment to help her lift her leg, balancing herself as she felt suddenly empty without him filling her up.

Watching as she lifted her leg on the table, pushing herself up, Harry dropped to his knees as he took in what he saw. A certain hunger elicits his eyes as he grabbed onto the back of her thighs, spreading them apart. In an instant, she felt the spit on her already dripping cunt as his mouth attached to her almost like it was made for his lips to wrap around.

Her head drew back at the feeling of his mouth on her, the knot in her stomach was undoubtedly loosening as she felt the nudge of his tongue against her clit; the feeling of his nose gracing her. In the last twenty-four years, she had never been blessed with a partner that would have given her the opportunity to feel this way. She had never been with an older man before, either.

Maybe her innocence had been brushed away by the complete raging needs of his wandering hands.

Either way, she didn't know if she could get any better than this. The softness of his tongue with a stiff edge and control, the scruff of his upper lip taunting her as he spread her thighs further apart while his mouth took her from behind.

"Could ruin you in so many ways." Harry hummed, his tongue dripping from her arousal that coated it. "You want me to ruin you, doll?"

Her hair fell into her face as she nodded fervently, her hand pushing the locks away as she tried to catch a glimpse of him but leaned forward instead.

"Yes— I want you to ruin me, please." Her voice was a shy, timid tone but it held all of the power of her needs. He knew exactly what she needed, and he would gladly give her every bit of it.

Harry immediately felt the words go straight to his cock; the feeling of arousal only tempting him further and further. What was it about this girl that gave him such an issue? He hadn't always been so easy to please, but something about the way that she moved her hips, her small movements only made him want to be rougher.

A girl that didn't know what she wanted was always the best— it was the moment when she found exactly what she was looking for, but never knew how to express it that made him cum the hardest. Harry wanted to push every ounce of her until she was begging for it.

June lurched forward just a bit as he stood back up from his position, moving to enter her once again. The slickness of his spit mixed with her arousal created the perfect lubrication that guided his swiftly back into her.

Deeper this time— much deeper. He held onto her thighs, pushing his hips into her at a steadier rate as the soft hums of her whimpers started to go deeper and become significantly more adulterated versions of moans. He felt the way he slipped in and out of her like she had been made to pleasure him.

"Keep quiet," He urged, "You're going to get us into trouble if someone hears us."

"I want them to hear how good you're fucking me," She urged, a whimper coming out as he slowed his motions to tease her further. "Fucking me so good."

He leaned in a bit close to her ear, pulling back her neck as her body contorted to meet his needs. She was in his grasp, only moving in the way that he needed her to. His hand pulled at her throat; the coolness of his undone belt buckle was against her thigh as he pushed in completely to get as close to her as possible.

The moan that escaped her lips was cut short by the hand that cupped over her mouth, which only pushed her further.

"You're going to be quiet or I'm going to pull out, do you understand me?" His voice was deep, low, and cold as she shut her eyes to the sound of it. She felt the push of two of his fingers into her mouth, a surprise at first. "Brats get punished and I'm going to leave your little cunt wanting more if you don't listen."

June hadn't felt this way in years— there had never been a man to satisfy the needs that had been built up in this way. It really hadn't been that long since she hooked up with someone, but she had never felt this way in her entire life. She had never felt this full— this satisfied. It was extraordinarily rough— it was to the point where she hadn't ever known a pleasure like this before.

She couldn't have imagined this.

"You understand?"  He says finally; she hadn't recognized that he had truly been waiting for a response before continuing. She had concluded that his pleasure was aided with being in charge. June couldn't understand the way that she became extremely, unbelievably pleasant for him. A few more thrusts pushed her to the brink of extraordinary delight before she dipped her head at the throbbing feeling between her legs.

"I understand— I do, I do, fuck– fuck." She whimpered out, unaware of the way that his thrusts had pushed on her enough that her muscles involuntarily ached as her orgasm became all the sudden wet— a solid gasp releasing her lips as she felt him pull out just at the feeling.

Harry's eyes darkened to a color of coal before he watched her inevitably drip down her own legs, the sight only causing his own mind to fall to a place of filth and absolute insanity. The gushing liquid was only a sight that he never thought he'd see like that– especially from her.

The innocent act was truly just an act.

"Jesus Christ," He commented under his breath, a bit taken by the sight. He choked back for a moment before he looks at the way he left her cunt dripping with need over the dark brown boots that had pushed her legs open. "So, fucking messy, aren't you?"

He watched the way that June's breathing heaved for a moment before he let his hand run down her spine— almost like she had been a bit surprised, like she hadn't expected her body to do anything like that.

Harry paused for a moment, watching to make sure that she was okay. Even in the rough moments, he watched to see if she seemed alright— his head tilting a bit as he hadn't heard anything else from her. A small coax from his hand on the small of back made him pause for a moment.

"Hey," He spoke quietly, "You're okay, doll, hm?"

June felt extremely exhausted already, almost like her body had started to fail her with how her legs trembled in this position. Her head turned back to look at him, a small nod coming from her without any words as she tried to find herself back in the moment.

It was an odd feeling in his chest as he started to feel an ache that went from extremely vile— filthy as he fucked this girl against the tack closet desk, to a sense of vulnerability that he made have started to push her a bit further than she was ready for. She didn't know it until her body was giving her pleasure that she hadn't felt before.

In an attempt to aid in some relief, especially to the legs that shook a bit more than a small foal, he pulled June back to a standing position. Her confusion on her face was obvious before Harry grabbed her by the waist to place her on the end of the desk instead. The skirt that had been pulled around her thighs had been pulled down completely.

"Get you off your legs so I can finish you off without you falling out on me," He told her with a sly smile, "Anyone ever made you feel this good?"

He watched the girl— completely wrecked with a face of pure softness. Her eyes were dazed, her attention stayed on him as he she shook her head. He felt better that she was conscious, even if he had taken practically everything from her.

"I can tell," He tells her softly before he tucks the hair out of her face, "Sorry you've been so deprived," Harry comments, "Would've done it for you sooner, if I would have known. Good thing I know now, hm? Won't let this happen again, angel, promise.

The feeling of their lips presses together as June grabs at her thigh so that Harry can move into the position between her legs once again. His tongue tastes like tobacco, a hint of the gum that he had been chewing.

Harry pressed the tip of his cock back into her to finish what he had started. His muscles ached in his abdomen as he felt himself tense at the feeling through a few more thrusts as he faced her now.

"Feels so, so good," June's words had whimpered out of her, a bit surprising at how quiet she had been and started to become even more so. "I-I'm— it's— fuck. Please, please more."

Harry's hands had made their way to her hips, making sure she had been pulled completely to the front of the desk so that he could feel her deeper. His vision moved down to the place where they connected; a hint of heat on the back of his neck as he thought of the moment more intrinsically.

"C'mon," He coaxed, their noses brush as he lets his forehead rest against hers. His breathing hitched for a moment as he felt her hand move to grab at his bicep. "C'mon, give me one more. You can do it."

His hips snapped further into her; June breathed into his mouth with a hot gasp as she screwed her eyes shut at the feeling of his cock nudging at a place that elicit such a firework of intensity that she hadn't ever felt before. It didn't matter how many college nights, bar hookups, serious relationships— none of those had the control that Harry had over her.

This was a feeling that he had crafted to ensure that the other person felt extraordinarily vulnerable and taken. She recognized that she wasn't the first, and certainly wouldn't be the last. 

She was okay to just be his right now.

"Mm," She bit on her lip at the thought of what had caused her to be sent over the edge prior. She wanted to know what to ask for; she didn't know what she needed, but she was certainly going to try. "W-Want you to...to c-call me a slut," she said with a small voice, just heard between them. Her eyes had turned away from him with a sheepish-shy feeling. "Need it."

Harry paused for a moment before he let his hand move to underneath her chin, propping her up to look into his eyes. He needed her to say it to him— needed to see her embarrassed and shy, wanting him to treat her like a one-night rather than a forever.

"I only call it like it is," He tells her with a grin carved like a devil, "I just have to call you a slut so you drench my cock? Is that it?" He knew he had to push her further, get her to a place in her head where she felt sexy, where she felt loose to the point of unraveling. "Letting me fuck you in a little closet on your daddy's ranch— such a pretty little brat." 

"Fuck me," She whined, knowing that her words would travel if she were any louder. "I-I'm gonna–"

"Do it." He coaxed.

Just at the sound of his words, he could feel the way that she unwound herself— simply, he didn't recognize that his words really did have the effect. His lips part as he watched her body fully shake with a convulsion the wetness coated his front with a small spray of her. Drenching his clothes and their boots as they sat with gasping breaths, he stared at the way that her pussy reacted to him, wondering how his words affected her so easily.

She was wrecked.

"That's such a good fucking girl," Harry told her softly, pressing himself back in, nodding fervently as he reassured her. Her cry was let out of the feeling of sensitivity that came after her explosive orgasm.

His hand placed on the back of her neck, pulling her forward a bit as he snapped his hips harder into her so that he could reach a place of pure euphoria. He couldn't begin to replay the actions of her pretended innocence, wondering if he would ever get to see anything like it agan. "Not going to last—fuck."

In an instant, his muscles tensed with an aching feeling that pushed his hips deeper into hers. Harry's lips placed themselves on her neck, kissing at the spots with a gentle softness—he knew what he had been in for in this intense, heated hook-up, but his cock had found a ferocious love for finishing inside of her all of the sudden.

It was all encompassing.

"Shit– shit." He hadn't even thought of the repercussions of not having the condom but needing to be careless for a few moments of time. He fell into her grip, holding onto her softly as he felt their breathing becoming less heavy.

June's legs were wrapped around his hips like an anchor, her head sat heavy on his shoulder as he mustered up the courage to pull away. He didn't really want to pull out completely, knowing it felt too good to let his cock feel the tight confines of her walls.

He slowly pulled his hips back, letting the mess fall out with him.

"Oh, fuck." He muttered under his breath, watching the display of a horribly sexual sight. One that someone would pay money to see. "I've never felt anything like that."

The way that she breathed against the wall, up on the table. Her eyes were shut as she held herself up and wondered if her choices had been worth it. She blinked a few times, almost like her body was now shutting down after the intensity of their passionate love affair.

Harry waited for her to respond to him, to look at him. He watched as her chest raised and lowered, knowing she was still breathing, but seemed to be missing from behind her eyes.

"Hey," He pulled her back from against the wall, whispering to her sweetly as he felt himself breathing a bit fast, too. "C'mon, doll, we should go clean up. I think we can sneak out the back."

Her movements felt heavy as Harry tried his best to bring her back to her feet. When he felt that she was steady enough, he let go of her to place his jeans and belt back into place, watching her shakily redress herself. The quietness of the small tack closet didn't hinder them, as Harry placed a kiss along her cheek before he let his hands fall on the doorknob.

"I'll go first and then you can follow me," He tells her, watching her nod in agreement. "Front door or back door?" He asks, in reference to the small guest house that June had been staying in. Her breathing had finally fallen into place. The desperation of need still on her eyes, which only excited him to get her back alone.

"Back." She tells him, quietly. Using her words wasn't so bad, but her legs became a bit unsteady, so she held onto the table behind her.

Before he opens the door, Harry gives her a quick once over. His eyes land on her lips before he steps forward to leave a kiss along her pout, letting her sink into him once again. The taste of her instantly feeds him as he groans into the feeling.

It was about time he found the feeling everyone told him he should be looking for. It was a myth for so long, but just in the way that he lips melted into his was enough to make to him blush. Her hands in his hair at the back of his neck, the feeling of her nails along his jaw settled his need for the moment before he pulled back and gave her another peck.

"Don't be too long," He told her, "Don't want to have to wrangle you back to me." 

She smirked at his challenge as he opened the door to slip out. Her eyes shut at the way moved, closing the door behind him. A settled feeling in her chest only made her stumble back just a bit, letting herself rest on the table before she took in a solid breath.

Home had seemingly never felt so right.

[b0ther]

ain't even jealousy

you fucking hate the basketball team, but there's no one you hate more than aomine.

pairing : aomine daiki x reader (feminine pronouns. afab) rating : explicit, not safe for work (sexual content) type : chaptered tags : aomine is a bully im not even kidding he is quite cruel, porn with PLOT, reader is besties with satsuki, reader also has a crush on imayoshi, reader also was wakamatsu's ex, hate sex, semi-public sex, manhandling, vaginal penetration, thigh fucking, semi-clothed sex, some slutshaming going on here, reader has big tits, slight dubcon. word count : 4,323

author's note : title from 'want u back' by cher lloyd. this is comissioned by a dear friend. hope you enjoy mwah. this first chapter (and whole fic im ngl) is centered around the onsen episode.

( masterlist │ ask/request │ ao3 )

After a long and hard day at school, all that you ever really want to do is to quickly get to your part-time job and finish up your shift. Perhaps you can get some convenient store food after that, or go straight home to shower and rest.

Whatever it is that you daydreamed of, it wasn't this.

Satsuki calls out to you, her voice soft against the bristling wind with her lithe arms circle around yours as you try to walk away, dragging her body forcefully with you. She whines your name over and over again, over the beating speaker against your ears before you finally had enough, ripping your headphones off your head, turning to face her.

“Satsuki!” You try to sound stern, but you end up whining in the same tone that she used. You can only be so serious as a high school girl, after all.

Her pink strands fall against her face messily; you use your other hand to tuck them behind her ear as she elongates the way she enunciates your name and begs, begs, begs you to listen to her. “Please! Just—”

“Satsuki!” You groan, shaking her off your body. “I’m busy. I have a part-time job, I’m failing maths, I have club activities. I can’t just… ditch everything and go !”

“You can!” It’s like she was not listening to a single word that you uttered. “It’s a month away and on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday—which you can begin asking for a leave day starting today , they will definitely let you if you do it a month in advance!—and maths!? That’s easy! I’ll teach you!”

You slant your eyes at her, arms crossing on your chest. “Alright. What about my club activities?”

“You mean your journalist club? One that encourages their members to leave their comfort zone in order to bring back interesting stories? One that basically has a crush on the basketball team?”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, don’t be dramatic.”

She gasps. “Don’t you love me!?”

“Don’t do this to me…”

“If you love me at all, you wouldn’t even think twice about going with me. Imagine me, a girl, going alone on an all-boys’ trip to some secluded place—”

“You’re being dramatic—” You tried reiterating your point.

“I’m not!” She whines, even louder this time, attracting attention from all the other Touou students around you. “You literally have nothing to lose by coming along! Give me five reasons—five good reasons—and I will literally stop bothering you.”

You shake her off again, and this time, Satsuki lets go and stumbles back a couple of steps as the mischief on her eye continues to shimmer. You have never lost an argument to Satsuki—but there is a first for everything, and you have a feeling that you are going to break some personal records today.

“First,” you take a deep breath as you hold up a finger. “Aomine’s gonna be there—”

“Perfect!” Not giving you a chance to speak, she cuts you off, eyes glimmering like starlight. “You like him!”

She strikes a nerve with this one.

One of your eyes twitches as you cross your arms under your chest. The excited smile on her face fades in an instant, recognizing in an instant that something is wrong.

Recognizing in an instant that something she should have known about is wrong.

She blinks a couple of times, trying to use all that intelligence in her head to analyse the error in what she said (which turns out pretty useless—guess all that she is good for is basketball).

“Have you been paying attention at all?” You begin to blabber after letting out a huge gasp, arms waving around in the air. “We’ve been friends for years— years ! Since the first year of middle school, and you know nothing of  my strong, burning opinion of Aomine!? Flash news, Satsuki, it’s not love!”

“You—” She stammers, “You talk about him a lot!”

“I complain about him a lot!” You correct her, blowing out air in frustration, feeling somewhat betrayed that your best friend had just accused you of liking your archnemesis… your enemy… your�� your rival.

The point is! You hate him!

You would rather live in a world without television and the internet and good music if it means that you will have to never hear him say another word.

Aomine.

You shiver in annoyance.

Just saying his name irks the hell out of you. Imagining his face causes a feeling close to that of an explosion in your chest. You just wanna grab him by his face and shove him down a flight of stairs.

You cannot even count all the shitty things he did to you in high school: revealing your crush on Nijimura Shuuzou not just to the then-basketball team captain, but the entire student body; tripping you in the cafeteria multiple times; stealing your undergarments during P.E. and commenting crassly about how you were two sizes under his favourite adult model. Granted, you never told Satsuki about the last thing. That shit was just too embarrassing—you were glad that no one else was in the room when he threw your bra back at you.

Still, your frustration remains at her. Jogging down memory lane boils your wrath, and you close your eyes to calm yourself down.

He’s just a bully.

A damned bully.

And you would be damned if you are going to willingly spend your weekends in the same vicinity as him.

“Well… Dai-chan likes you!”

You roll your eyes.

Yeah, right.

You would agree if she had claimed that he found you attractive, or he thinks you’re hot. But liking you? Highly improbable—impossible, even.

Aomine Daiki does not seem like he is capable of feeling any emotion aside from boredom and mischief. The only thing he loves, or even likes, is probably his beloved Aya-chan from his gravure magazines.

You’re not even sure if he still likes basketball.

Which is a shame—seeing someone so tall gradually shrinking to the size of nothing, even if you despise the guy, the whole ordeal with whatever-the-fuck Satsuki’s basketball team went through still managed to extract some sympathy from the bottom of your heart. You’ve been paying attention to Aomine, after all, albeit not under any positive light.

“Whatever,” from past experiences, you know better than to argue against Satsuki. “I don’t care anymore. And you know what? Aomine himself and your blatant disregard of your best friend’s feelings—me!—should be enough to fit all five criterias!”

You know that look in her eyes, the way her lips press against each other and how one of her hands is clenched into a fist. 

“I’ve been friends with him for 16 years, (Y/N),” she bumps her fist against her chest in pride. “Best friends, even! I know him better than you do!”

You scoff. “People who like someone don’t bully them, Satsuki. Open your eyes.”

“He isn’t bullying you!” She groans.

“Oh, so now not only are you attempting to kidnap me, but you’re also defending my bully?”

“Argh!” Satsuki hugs your arm again, earning her a groan from you. She calls out your name again, enunciating each and every syllable. “ Pleeeaaaaseeee? You don’t have to pay a single dime! You don’t even have to see Dai-chan if you want to. Imayoshi-san will be there—you like him, right?”

You slant your eyes at her in suspicion, not buying anything she just told you. You just know that you will have to see Aomine sooner or later if you come with her to the onsen. 

“No man is ever worth that much headache, Satsuki.”

“Yeah,” she sighs, still shaking you ferociously. “But it’s Imayoshi-san!”

You decided to come along. Because of course you did.

It’s either that, or Satsuki pestering you for the rest of the month, bringing either Imayoshi or Aomine or whoever she thinks will get your attention.

And Imayoshi Shouichi? Sure. He’s hot as hell.

But is he worth dealing with Aomine?

You like to think not.

Satsuki dragged you along to a basketball team meeting—the one that would be discussing the practice trip and the whole onsen ordeal.

It wasn’t like you needed to be there at all. You know just a little more than the average person about basketball. All that you were preparing for the onsen was your clothes and deciding whether it’s you or Satsuki who should be bringing her hairdryer.

“Why me?” You said, crossing your arms when the attention of the entire basketball team was redirected towards you, and Imayoshi laughed. The only problem they were facing was convincing Aomine to come along.

And you were happy with not being the babysitter. You were happy with twiddling your skirt as you sat on the edge of the stage of the hall, scrolling down your social media timeline as the team argued on how to get that blue-haired freak into coming.

That was until Satsuki ruined your afternoon by offering up your name.

To your surprise, everyone in the team seemingly agreed almost immediately to offer you as a sacrificial lamb to feed Aomine’s ego and coax him to at least come to the trip.

“He likes you,” Wakamatsu scoffed when you asked why, and you glared at him, but said nothing. Out of respect, you guess, to the upperclassman. It’s not like you respect him, though. You’re on bad terms with a lot of the basketball team, but no matter your disagreements with Wakamatsu, you will never dislike him the way you loathe Aomine.

“He does have a soft spot for you,” Imaoyshi mused as he flashed you a smile—and lord , you cannot say no to Imayoshi. Especially when he’s being so nice.

You saw Satsuki smirking from the corner of your eyes and internally cursed her.

That was how you found yourself climbing the ladder leading to the rooftop. 

And that was how you found Aomine with one hand between his backpack and head, and the other holding an obscene magazine.

He doesn’t even spare you a single glance—probably thought you were another manager or even worse: Satsuki again. But the moment you open your mouth to call out to him, his head snaps in your direction, an eyebrow raised in amusement as he pushes himself to rest his body against his elbows.

“What are you doing here?”

You try not to let your rage spill. You try to keep the boiling water down. You close your eyes, take a deep breath, and continue to climb the ladder before approaching him.

Think rational, you think to yourself, he hadn’t even said anything yet.

“The Captain wants to see you,” you manage to say between your gritted teeth, staring down at him before looking away. Imayoshi didn’t ask you to make Aomine see him, but Aomine probably respects Imayoshi more than you, so you try to throw him under the bus just to get out of the situation quicker.

“Imayoshi-san?” He frowns before repeating his initial question: “What the fuck are you doing here?”

I want to punch him.

“You own this roof or something?”

“Calm down,” he scoffs, tilting his head before eyeing your body up and down. You shift your weight into your other leg, ignoring the uneasy feeling on the pit of your stomach. “I just wanted to know.”

Sighing, you glance up at the sunny sky, sweat starting to form on the base of your neck and you are dying to leave at that very moment. You shelter your eyes from the sunlight, despite finding it more appealing than Aomine’s face.

“We’re discussing the practice trip thing—whatever, and also the onsen trip,” you lazily explain, not bothering to hide your disinterest. “Imayoshi-senpai wants you to be present for the meeting. Obviously.”

You cannot fathom the fact that you were explaining his basic responsibilities as a club member to him. What a fucking child.

“You coming with us?”

His focus seems to be misplaced, and you glare at the sky, imagining it was his stupid face.

“I’m going with Satsuki,” you correct, still not willing to look at him. “I don’t give two shits about you or the basketball team.”

“Hey,” he sits up, wrapping his fingers around your wrist before tugging your body towards him. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.”

You scoff, finally letting your gazes meet before pulling your hand away. “Fuck off.”

He, in fact, does not fuck off.

Aomine pulls on your wrist again, this time hard enough for you to lose your balance and fall, your knees landing on the coarse floor as the bottom of your skirt rides up your thighs. The skin of your knees scraping against the gravelled surface and you curse, jerking your hand away only to immediately shove his shoulder.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!” You shriek, annoyed at how he remains unmoving even as you push him again.

He towers you, even when sitting, and keeps his eyes peering down at you.

Maybe it’s the heat that day; summer has just ended, but even the soft Autumn breeze cannot conceal the searing flare creeping up the skin of your cheeks. Aomine slants his eyes and grabs your wrist yet again—you weren’t quick enough to retract away from his athletic instincts, and so, you fall again when he pulls you in closer.

You hiss in pain as your knees drag more against the floor, desperate to find your balance only to grab on his shoulders.

“Hey,” He calls out to you, a lame attempt for your attention. “Look,” he says again, and your dumb ass looks.

He grabs the magazine on his lap and tautens the pages together, showing you the spread where he left off before you interrupted his peaceful afternoon. “(Y/N), remember Aya-chan?”

The girl that ruined your life?

How can you forget?

You cannot hide the distaste in your eyes as your eyes scan her beautiful, black hair falling against the sheer material of her white uniform top. The black lace bra she was wearing underneath is apparent as she pushes her two tits against each other, legs spread to reveal an equally seductive pattern on her panties.

Before you even realise, Aomine’s arm begins to wrap itself around your waist as he holds you up, fingers creeping up the side of your torso, tracing invisible lines before resting on one of your breasts. Your stomach begins to churn in excitement, embarrassingly enough, and you press your legs instinctively when the muscle between your thighs tighten as he continues fondling you.

You circle your arm around his neck under the pretence of keeping your balance.

“Mhmm…” He clicks his tongue, resting his face on the side of your upper arm—his nose touching the side of your tit as his hand palms your other one. “I feel like you’re no longer two sizes under Aya-chan. Maybe a size under? Maybe the same size?”

You grit your teeth. “You talk big. Have you ever seen her outside your magazine? She probably edits her photos.”

He grins, gaze shifting to drink in your frustration. “No, but you’re real, and I’m groping you right now. Isn’t that better?”

“Better than your pretty Aya-chan?”

Aomine raises an eyebrow, humming knowingly. You can’t even believe the word escaping your mouth.

“You have a cute side to you after all,” He muses after a short, mocking whistle. “What do you want me to say? Want me to tell you how much better you are than her?”

“Want you to shut the fuck up.”

“Calm down, tiger.” He laughs, pulling away from your arm. He tosses the magazine to the side, straightening his back to press a short kiss to the peak of your cheekbone. His hand begins to work; he slowly kneads your breast while continuously trailing kisses down to your ears. Your nipples brush against the fabric of your damned lace bra, and he stops for a moment only to tug on where your bud is protruding.

A whimper leaves your mouth.

“Excited are we?” He whispers, voice dropping lower as he presses his lips against your ears. “I like hearing you like that.”

“Shut up,” you run out of words, turning your head to the other side, exposing your neck to him. Which turns out to be a bad idea, as he takes it as a sign to sweep his tongue over the skin of your neck.

“A–Aomine—”

“God,” he chuckles. “Who would’ve guessed that you can be this sexy?”

He pulls away from your neck, and drags his hand from your tits to rub against your torso, feeling the material of your uniform. He presses one hand on the small of your back, pressing his forehead against yours. In a swift motion, he pulls on your body, drawing out a squeak as he lays you down against the concrete floor.

“What if…” he trails, rubbing a thumb under your eye as he hovers over rested body. Your cheeks sear with heat, alongside your chest and the pulsating on your cunt. “...I just fuck you right here?”

“W-what?” You whimper.

He laughs. “I’m hard as hell. You made me this way.”

“You were the one groping my tits!”

“You liked it,” he shrugs, pushing himself off of you, forcing both your legs open as he moves between them. His fingers begin to unbutton your uniform, unravelling the bra you are wearing underneath. Sucking in a deep breath, he stops midway down your torso, and without taking his eyes off your chest, he asks, “Want me to stop?”

Your cheeks flare, and you don’t answer him. You don;t even look at him.

He takes a quick glance at your expression.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’.”

“...Whatever.”

A wide smirk forms on his face, fingers continuing to unbutton your uniform all the way down.

“Do me a favour and get up for a bit,” he murmurs, pressing one of his hands against your back once again to get you to sit up. The feeling of his palm against your bare skin sends you to shivers, coupled with the soft wind whistling between the two of you.

“What’re you—”

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as his fingers fumble with the hook of your bra. It took him two wrong moves before getting it right with the third—the fabric loosens around your body, and you pull him closer to conceal your humiliated expression.

“See,” Aomine chuckles after some awkward motion, tossing your stupid bra to the side when he finally gets it off. “You’re so pretty like this.”

“Shut up,” you groan, nails digging into his skin deeper and deeper.

He pulls himself away from your grip, taking a nice hold on your torso to pull your ass up his lap, letting you fall against the hard floor again.

“Goddamn,” he mutters, roaming his touches against your legs. His eyes cannot leave the heaves of your jugs.

“Stop fucking staring,” your hiss, trying to pull your uniform together, hiding your chest away from him.

Aomine scoffs, using one hand to unbuckle his pants. Your eyes travelled from his face to the loose button on his collar to the wet stain on the grey briefs around his hips to the bulge underneath them.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

He tilts his head at your question, furrowing his eyebrows as he takes his cock out from under his briefs. “Fucking you?”

The precum leaks from the tip of his cock, little drops of white strings rolling down his length. He pulls your hips closer to his body and presses it flat against your soaked panties.

He groans at the contact. Your warm slick welcomes him entirely as he presses more against the fabric, rubbing his tip along the length of your pussy.

“S’that feel good?” He whispers, hastily hooking his fingers on your panties, pulling it up your legs, then tossing it to go with your bra. He presses his arm on the side of your head, leaning into you again.

“Don’t put it in,” you whine, trying to hold back your hips from rolling. “You’re gonna get me pregnant.”

“You can’t say shit like that,” he groans against your neck. He positions the tip of his cock against your cunt, and even with your sopping lips, you aren’t sure if you are ready to accommodate his size at all. 

“You don’t want to be a teen dad,” you bite your lower lip, hand going to rub his neck.

“I wanna fuck you, though,” he breathes, using his thumb to run along your wet slit. “Wanna fuck you raw, wanna cum inside’a you.”

You tremble with his words, feeling two of his fingers now circling your pussy. “D— don’t be stupid.”

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he whispers, making your cunt wish it has something to tighten around. “D’you know how long I’ve been wanting to get you like this?”

He pushes himself off of you, and holds your wounded knees as he watches your chest heaves, heavy tits rolling with every staggered breath. He flips your skirt over, exposing even more of your cunt to the chill.

He rubs his length against your slick, his tip now pushing against your swelling clit. “I’d jack off and wonder if you were tighter than my fist,” he wraps his cock with his hand and places it again on your entrance, pushing in a slow, deliberate motion.

Between your drooping eyelids, you saw him inaudibly mutter a curse.

“Used to wanna fight Wakamatsu ‘cus he’d stuff this pussy all he wanted. Right?” He scoffs with a stupid, satisfied smile that you wish you could wipe off his face. “Shame that you broke it off, huh? Did he dump you when he realised how much of a whore you are?”

“Shut up…”

“Well, I don’t care. More fun for me.”

“Aomine—“

“Who else have you fucked in the basketball team?” He grunts. “In Touou?”

“Shut— shut the…”

You slap the back of your hand against your mouth—not willing at all to let him hear you be satisfied with his size—biting down on the flesh as he pushes his cock in. All of his cock in.

“Aomine—”

His cock is dragging against your wall, kissing every possible inch of your insides. Your hole continues to burn as he stretches you wide open, draining every last bit of energy from inside of you.

“ F-fuck…”

Your hand goes to fondle your own tit, rolling your hard nipple between your fingers, sloppily trying to garner more and more pleasure. His dick fills you more and more, stuffing you full, before finally stopping.

“Don’t act all reserved now,” he raises an eyebrow as you mewl out his name. He stays still for a moment, a bud of sweat rolling down his temple before pulling out of your homey cunt. “You don’t have to lie.”

Aomine bites his lips, letting his cock rest between your pussy lips. He sees the way they engulf his dick, moving his hips to rub against your core.

“Letting me fuck you on the school rooftop,” he murmurs, “where’s your fucking self-respect? Well, I wouldn’t be surprised if this isn’t your first time getting dicked down up here.”

Your eyes slant up at him, but he quickly shuts down any of your retaliation by pressing his thumb flat against your clit, slowly circling the nub. Your teeth press down hard on your bottom lips.

“We aren’t— we are not …” You babble, putting a thumb between your teeth to stop yourself from moaning, “...having sex.”

He scoffs, drinking in how your eyes roll with your head turned to the side.

“I was inside you just a moment ago.”

Filthy noise of his cock squelching against your cunt filled the air—if someone were to come after you, they would hear Aomine’s dick fucking your pussy lips.

“Fuck,”Aomine spits, pressing your legs tightly against each other then down on your lips.

“A-ah,” You gasp as he drills into your thighs, the tip of his cock rubbing quick and hard against your swollen clit. “Oh my God—”

“Are you cummin’?” He breathes, one hand reaching to roll your tit on his hand. “Fuck, baby,” he murmurs, and you whine at the nickname. He snickers, “You’re so sexy like this, y’know that?”

Your back arches, little whimpers of encouragement swallow your pride whole as you fall completely into him. Aomine grunts at the expression, seeing the lewd expression on your face. He picks up the pace, slamming his hips against your ass.

“M’gonna cum,” he hisses. “Fuck. Wish I could shoot my load into your tight little cunt.”

“Fuck it,” you manage to spit between your groans, “F-fuck it. Just— oh God, just don’t stop—”

Your words rile him up even more—he tightens his grip on your leg, his fingers bruising your fragile skin. Your head begins to spin. Your slam your fists against the ground and your mind numbing orgasm comes the moment strings of Aomine’s thick, white cum comes flying down your skirt and stomach.

“Shit,” he loosens the grip on your legs, letting them fall even with your still convulsing ass and core. His gaze stays on the tip of his dick, the white cum oozing from it, then to your face—your parted lips, dumb eyes, and the sweat dripping down the side of your head down your neck.

He feels himself getting harder as he watches your plump lips whine, wondering how they would wrap around his thick length, if the colour of your lipstick would stain the veins of his cock.

“You coming to the onsen trip?” Aomine tries to distract himself.

You roll over, blindly reaching out for the bra that he tossed God knows where.

“Fuck you.”

[tamas-love]

（ 제목 ）JAKE THOUGHTS.

PRESENT.⠀⟡​⠀in which, jake goes from your admirer to your boyfriend. REQUESTED.⠀⟡​⠀by anon: "whatdyou think bf Jake would be like? Sfw"

（ 심재윤 ） — pairing = fem!reader x bf!jake ୨୧ warning = nothing, just physical touch and jake being a cute golden retriever. ୨୧ wc = no count.

a/n : sorru for accidentally deleting this anon's request, but here you go anonnie!! i hope you like this <3

click me! ↓

admirer!jake who was so excited when he found out you were in the same classes as him on his schedule. admirer!jake who asked for your number with the excuse of talking about a group project. admirer!jake who noticed you were failing in math and offered to tutor you at his place, free of price. admirer!jake who makes sure you're comfortable and have food at all times when you're at his place. admirer!jake who walked you back home since it was too late to be alone. admirer!jake who did little things (like making you lunch, buying your favorite snacks, bringing you drinks in the morning during school) that made you warm up to him easily. admirer!jake who walked you home on particular night from his place and decided he'd shoot his shot. admirer!jake who gently pushed you against the entrance door of your house, his hand beside your head. admirer!jake who slowly leaned in, looking at your eyes softly for permission--once you nodded he leaned in and press his lips against yours. his soft plump lips, gently kissing yours. admirer!jake who showed up the next night holding a big basket filled with your favorite snacks, a pair of matching pajamas, and your favorite plushies to give you as he asked you out. you excitedly said yes and celebrated with a long make out session and jake who stayed over the night.

present!bf!jake who takes you out on a date every weekend when he has free time. present!bf!jake who takes photos of you when he finds you cute and saves it to his album named 'my baby girl' present!bf!jake who posts you on his story everyday, makes sure to give you 100 hugs everyday, and 100 kisses everyday so you don't get lonely or accuse him of not loving you. present!bf!jake who shows his love and affection through physical touch (his hand on your thigh--gently rubbing it, interlocking your fingers, playfully picking you up, giving you back hugs, making sure his hand placement made your heart flutter..) and acts of service (buying you food, letting you go on his phone with trust, cutting your steak into easy bite pieces, making you food even if you didn't ask for it..).

© tamas-love on tumblr, © tamas-love on wattpad ㅤㅤ𓈒ㅤㅤ𓈒 taglist open.⠀⦂ ⠀@nheyri , @uoalirie , @moonpri , @minaz-luv

[riddleauthor]

⛥ 𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 𝑳𝒂𝒅𝒚 𝑹𝒊𝒅𝒅𝒍𝒆

Hey babe, I'm Lady Riddle! Here you'll find imagines and one-shots about the Slytherin Boys, playlists, moodboards, p! links and other things I'll discover along the way. Check it out! 🖤

Please send me asks as much as you want, especially ideas for writing (I'll respond once your request is ready) <33

★ 𝖘𝖑𝖞𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖓 𝖇𝖔𝖞𝖘

imagines (soon)

ghostface pic (mattheo, tom, theodore)

erotic gif (mattheo, tom, theodore)

ghostface p!link 1

ghostface p!link 2

ghostface p!link 3

ghostface p!link 4

slytherin boys playlist

★ 𝖒𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖔 𝖗𝖎𝖉𝖉𝖑𝖊

p! links pt. 1

p! audios (soon)

carnal desires imagines

b&w vibes playlist

riddle brothers playlist

★ 𝖙𝖔𝖒 𝖗𝖎𝖉𝖉𝖑𝖊

p! links pt. 1 (soon)

p! links professor pt. 2 (soon)

professor riddle playlist

riddle brothers playlist

★ 𝖉𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖔 𝖒𝖆𝖑𝖋𝖔𝖞

p! links (soon)

p! audios (soon)

★ 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖔𝖉𝖔𝖗𝖊 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖙

p! links (soon)

p! audios (soon)

★ 𝖑𝖔𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖟𝖔 𝖇𝖊𝖗𝖐𝖘𝖍𝖎𝖗𝖊

p! links (soon)

p! audios (soon)

★ 𝖇𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖘𝖊 𝖟𝖆𝖇𝖎𝖓𝖎

p! links (soon)

p! audios (soon)

★ 𝖗𝖊𝖌𝖚𝖑𝖚𝖘 𝖇𝖑𝖆𝖈𝖐

p! links (soon)

p! audios (soon)

★ 𝖕𝖆𝖓𝖘𝖞 𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖘𝖔𝖓

p! links (soon)

p! audios (soon)

English is not my first language. I hope you like it! <3

Don't repost anything anywhere else besides playlists and don't claim them as your own! For any requests like translations send me a message. Reblogs are appreciated!

[featguler]

Heyyy i have a request for tchouaméni 😄 , where his girlfriend is clingy towards him , always needing to cuddle him just to sleep 🥹🥹🥹

'til there's no tomorrow ────── you reach for his side of the bed.

♡ ────── pairing : aurélien tchouaméni x reader ♡ ────── tags : reader is female. her ethnicity, nationality, and appearance is not specified. slight depiction and description of anxiety. pre-established relationship with aure. ♡ ────── wordcount : 490 ♡ ────── notes : anon don't kill me but i kind switched the positions a bit... and this ends up being tchouameni not being able to sleep without his gf LOL. i might do another one where his gf is extra clingy though, just bc it's such a cute idea!! i hope you enjoy this :3 title is from niall horan's you could start a cult ♡ masterlist.

“Aurélien?”

Aurélien would say that as a professional athlete, sleeping has got to be the one aspect of a lifestyle like his that had been undermined like crazy. It’s always stamina, and focus, and strength. But lack of sleep causes your body to gain deadweight—it will grow to rot, stewing in stress while eventually weakening.

This fact had been drilled in his mind.

Sleep. Sleep. Sleep.

Even resting is not the same as sleeping.

It is so easy to listen to people in a pair of overpriced joggers and headband ramble on and on about the importance of actually getting the proper amount of sleep, but when you are faced with the reality of a hurt knee joint, or a deteriorating passing performance, your brain just can’t help but insist that instead of spending your nights on the bed, you should be on treadmill, or on a field.

His knee aches, and it shakes. Aurélien had been staring at an empty for the past half an hour or so, the muscles in his legs screaming at him to take a small jog around his house to feel some sort of long-needed adrenaline.

He has enough of being on the bench, if he can just be frank.

Hearing your voice calling out to him in the pitch black, he tenses for a moment, looking behind him, his eyes already adjusted to the dark. “Yes, my love?”

“Are you here?”

Aurélien chuckles, shifting so that he could get a better view of your closed eyes. His hand reaches to stroke your head. “Where else would I be?”

“Not sleeping?” You ask, mumbling your words. You open one eye, trying to search for him, before giving up and closing them again. “Come here, baby, you gotta sleep.”

“I will,” he laughs softly, leaning down to place a soft kiss against your forehead.

“No,” you pout, scooching over to his side of the bed, gripping his arm. “Come here,” you whine, “I wanna hug— wanna cuddle.”

“Aww, “ he coos, giving in to the sweet sound of your whine. He throws himself under the blanket, sprawling one arm under your head while the other wraps itself around your waist. “Are you comfortable?”

You murmur your answer, unclear, before repeating with a quiet, “Yeah, yeah.”

Aurélien watches the way your eyes open lightly, then close again. Your breath is slow, relaxed, and even through the dark, he can see your pretty face change into one expression from the other, as though you have gone back to the land of dreams.

He moves, pressing himself closer against you, lips on top of your nose, before timidly calling out your name, like he is afraid that he would take away some of your precious sleeping time.

When he sees that you did not answer, he chuckles to himself. “I love you,” he says again, still somewhat terrified that he will wake you up, “I love you so much.”

[sweetchestnutdaydreams]

◤Unspoken Feelings◢

Character: Spencer Reid x Reader Genre: Fluff, Friends-to-Lovers-ish Word Count: 1,345 words Warnings: None for this one! Summary: Working late in the office with Spencer Reid has you battling your feelings for him, but when an innocent slip of the tongue turns into an unexpected exchange, you might just realize he feels the same way.

“You’re really pretty.”

“Hm?”

The words slipped through your lips without permission. You’re not sure if you’re happy that Spencer didn’t hear, or if you’re disappointed. His large, warm chocolate-colored eyes blink in your direction, his pen sliding dexterously from one finger to another. It catches your attention, as always, mesmerized by the way his long, slender fingers move with such skill. It should be a crime to have hands like that; it’s incredibly distracting.

“Nothing.” You shake your head and return to writing your report. It’s hard to find the right words, or even to remember the flow of the investigation, with the way his gaze burns through you.

“You sure?”

You nod vigorously and offer him a brief smile. Spencer hums, not entirely convinced, but lets the subject drop, much to your relief. You’ve been working together for a while now, and you’re very good friends—close enough to have spent several evenings at each other’s apartments. That’s given you plenty of time to realize that Spencer is a very, very pretty man.

No, you snort inwardly while erasing a misspelled word, you realized that the second you laid eyes on him. It didn’t take you months to figure it out, just the milliseconds it took for your eyes to communicate the vision to your brain.

And how could you not find him handsome? With his gorgeous curly hair, often messy, making you want to run your fingers through it, or his eyes that convey so much emotion it’s hard for you to maintain eye contact. And that’s without even mentioning the softness in his words and gestures, the gentle way his lips curve when you’re clumsy or ask a question, and the indulgent way he answers with his beautiful voice, sending pleasant tingles through your body every time.

Everything about him, you sincerely think, is breathtaking. It’s a shame, and embarrassingly comforting, that other women don’t seem to have noticed it. He’s not taken, and in your delusional mind, you tell yourself that maybe you still have a chance to move beyond the “best friend” category if you can just get over your fear of rejection.

It’s not so much the thought of not being good enough for what Spencer deserves that stops you, but the fear of forever changing your perfect relationship. Are you selfish enough to want more, even though you’re already in a comfortable position with Spencer that allows you to be close to him? It’s greedy of you, and you know it—risking everything for the chance to call him “boyfriend” instead of just “friend” seems ridiculous, pathetic.

A sigh escapes you as you run your hand along your face, trying to chase away the drowsiness and those intrusive thoughts. The back of your chair creaks as you lean against it, glaring at your report. You’re not sure what to blame for your lack of focus, which has kept you at your desk so late. Normally, you’d be home by now, eating ice cream after a long, steamy shower, brooding over your life choices—or the ones made by the characters in your TV show.

“Careful, you’re going to burn a hole through your report with that look.” Spencer’s voice startles you, and you momentarily forget he’s sitting right across from you. His eyebrow is raised, and the corner of his lips is curled into a small smile. “Are you sure you’re okay? Usually, it takes you two hours, fifteen minutes and—”

“Stalker,” you murmur under your breath, just loud enough for Spencer to hear, cutting him off mid-sentence.

He lets out a mock huff. “You’re the one who’s always staring at me.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you’re speechless for a few seconds. You know you’re not exactly subtle, your gaze drawn to the genius like second nature; but it’s another thing to have it pointed out to you. Spencer seems a little too proud of himself, chuckling just enough that you toss your pen at him. He dodges and throws one back at you—unlike him, you aren’t as lucky.

“Ouch,” you scrunch your nose as your hand flies to your forehead. “Intimidation!”

“Hey, you started it,” Spencer immediately retorts, feigning offense.

Your teasing continues for several minutes, enough to make you forget about the unfinished task still sitting on your desk. But it drains what little energy you had left, and you barely suppress a groan. The silence returns, this time broken by the creaking of Spencer’s chair and the rustling of fabric.

“Are you done?” you ask, trying to hide the disappointment in your voice.

“Hm.” He grabs his satchel after putting on his coat. “We’re done for the night.”

“Uh—no?” You chuckle, tapping the polished surface of your desk. “My report isn’t even halfway finished.”

Spencer moves behind you, gently sliding your chair away from your desk before spinning you around toward him. You let out a surprised sound, your hands gripping the armrests before you shoot your friend an accusing look. He gives you that annoying smile, the one that unfortunately makes your knees weak and your breath catch.

“Uh—yes,” he responds, a bit more firmly than you’re used to, as he gathers your things and hands you your coat. “You can finish it tomorrow morning; there’s nothing urgent.”

“I hate putting things off until tomorrow.”

Your brows furrow, a pout on your face. Despite this, you still stand up, letting Spencer help you into your coat, buttoning it from the bottom up. His knuckles brush your cheeks as he straightens the collar, making sure your neck is shielded from the chilly breeze, every touch leaving a trail of fire on your skin.

“There’s no point in forcing yourself to finish tonight if you’ll just have to redo everything tomorrow.” Spencer’s voice is gentle, with that edge of indulgence that, from anyone else, might make your hair stand on end.

You roll your eyes as you walk toward the elevator. There’s no point in protesting—when Spencer gets like this, it’s nearly impossible to change his mind. And right now, his mind is set on driving you home for a good night’s sleep. He’s thought of everything, because when you reach the parking lot, you see his car is already running, and when he opens the door for you, you’re greeted by a wave of warmth.

The drive to your place is quiet. At this hour, there aren’t many cars, and the radio is turned down to the lowest volume, barely disrupting your conversation. It’s probably—scratch that, it’s definitely—the best part of your day. Just you and him, in the car, sharing what feels like an intimate moment.

“Thank you,” you say softly as he pulls up in front of your building.

You sling your bag over your shoulder and open the door. The temperature has dropped another notch since the start of the ride, and a shiver runs down your spine. You lean down to give Spencer a smile, which he returns cheerfully.

“It’s no problem. Want me to pick you up tomorrow morning?”

The offer makes your heart jump ridiculously. It’s not unusual for Spencer to pick you up in the morning and drop you off after work, especially after a big case like the one you’ve just wrapped up. But that doesn’t stop your body from reacting the way it does every time.

“If you don’t mind,” you say, biting your lip. It’ll give you the chance to stay in bed a little longer and enjoy more time with Spencer, without everyone else around or the horrors of your job looming over you.

“Of course not.”

You thank him again and close the door. As you turn to head toward the entrance of your apartment building, Spencer’s voice catches your attention. The passenger side window is rolled down, and he’s adjusted his head so you can see each other.

“Yes?”

“I think you’re pretty too, by the way,” he says casually, with a little chuckle.

Suddenly, it feels way too warm, and you almost trip as you make your way into the building.

[byechristopher]

pleaseee a fic where chris and reader meet for the first time (she's lowkey sad or some shit like that idk) and he's all starstruck by her 😞

lucky you.

–CHRIS STURNIOLO FLUFF.

Author's note: hey y'all. I got the idea from this lovely anon (thank you for the request!🤍) and combined it with something that actually happened to me. Fate truly works in mysterious ways – so take this long, sappy story (based on true events, pft). I hope you like it! Do not copy/steal my work. :)

Warnings: long, sappy fluff. Very slight angst if you squeeze, but nothing crazy. Very long, didn't proofread!

My mom used to always say – "that's life; when one door closes, another door opens". And if I still lived in the same house with mom, she'd know; I haven't seen an opened door in a long while. It is unfair but it is what it is and I had no intention of succumbing to tears in the solitude of my nightly despair.

Seated on the chilled bench, I instinctively drew my knees towards my chest in a desperate bid for warmth. The sheer elegance of my black tights, though adorning my legs, proved futile against the biting cold. Unfazed, I refrained from complaining; after all, they were my cherished favorites. Mascara was most likely smudged from my previous ugly crying, yet I ignored it, taking solace in my sweater's embrace.

Leaning my head against my knees, my fingers absentmindedly engaged with the laces of my shoes – a subconscious act of distraction. In the midst of this self-imposed solitude, a sudden exclamation pierced the quietude.

"Shit!" I heard a voice, someone angry. The mysterious guy threw his hat on the pavement and scoffed, his hair nearly as messy as mine. His gaze shifted towards me, a thorough assessment from head to toe, "care if I sit next to you?" he asked quickly. Without much ado, I responded with a nonchalant shrug. I didn't care, I had way more things to worry about.

I could feel him rummaging through his pockets, trying to find God knows what, he seemed upset, anxious, "want a cig?" I didn't see him, but I saw his extended arm in front of me. I don't think he was looking at me either.

"Sure." I murmured under my breath, taking a cigarette from him half-empty packet.

"Why does life have to be such a fucking bitch?" I chuckled in response, treating it more as a statement than a question. Offering another shrug, I watched as he scanned the area, likely in search of his lighter.

"If I had the answer to that, I'd probably murder this bitch." I chuckled, he chuckled too.

He held the lighter in front of me and only then did I turn my head to look at him – he was definitely not what I expected to see from what I've heard. While I didn't dwell on it for long, it seemed he did, as seconds passed without his lighter igniting. His intense pale blue eyes remained fixed on mine, and I briefly removed the cigarette from my mouth.

"Hello?" was my mascara that smudged that I scared the guy? He hasn't uttered a word.

"Oh.. sorry." he shook his head, as though attempting to shake off the reverie that had consumed him in the past few moments in his own world, "I just.. didn't expect you to be here?"

"Well.. I'm pretty sure we haven't met before. So how come you didn't expect me?.." I was confused.

"No, I mean.. you are very beautiful." he almost whispered but I caught that, and if I was just a little disconnected from reality, I probably would've blushed.

"Oh. Thank you." my lips turned into a thin line – I put the cigarette back into my mouth, grabbing his lighter instead.

He chuckled, "and I thought I didn't know how to take a compliment." he took his lighter back, taking a puff of his own cigarette.

"Don't you hear like a thousand compliments on a daily basis?" with my knees still pulled up to my chest, I embraced them tightly, resting my head against the comforting curve of my legs.

"Hm. And yet this was the best compliment anyone has ever given me." he placed a leg on the bench, just so that he'd be able to have his whole body face me.

I couldn't help but laugh, "yeah, I'm good at giving things. Not receiving."

He nodded, his hat still on the ground although he didn't seem to care, "understood.." he smiled and wow, he had a nice smile, almost contagious, "a fellow people pleaser, nice to meet you. I'm Chris."

I reciprocated with a nod and a quick smile. My name slipped off my lips swiftly, echoed by him, and I couldn't help but notice how much better it sounded when it rolled off his tongue.

"Will I ever see you again?" he looked me dead in the eye.

"Probably not." I pursed my lips, looking back at him.

He nodded as if he understood and dropped his burnt cigarette to the ground. Chris grabbed his hat and got up, offering another smile, "I believe in fate."

"I don't." I teased, smiling.

"You probably should." he shouted, already far away from me to speak normally.

What an interaction.

It had been quite a while since said interaction. Not that I thought about the guy a lot, but he definitely was in the back of my mind. Even when I was outside, he'd still cross my mind every now and then, like a nice, distant memory.

I chuckled as I gulped down my whiskey – the music was too loud for my own liking but it was a Saturday night and it'd be a pity if I stayed home once again; my friends begged and I actually like hanging out with them. I watched as my friends danced with each other, not too far away from me, as I rummaged through my purse to find the money so I could pay and leave.

"Fucking.. shit.." I cursed under my breath, turning my phone's flashlight on because the lights in that bar were bright as fuck, but apparently not enough to actually help me see.

"D'you need any help?" I heard a somewhat familiar voice shouting behind me. I turned around and my eyes widened when I saw him.

"I.. you!" I was beyond surprised, to say the least, because I was truly convinced I'd never see him again. Not because I didn't want it; but because I had enough on my plate already.

"Shit.." he whispered, and if I wasn't already looking at his lips, I wouldn't be able to know what he said, "..see, I told you fate works in mysterious ways."

"This was just a coincidence." I convince myself.

Was it, though?

"This was no coincidence and you know it.." he grinned and I let my eyes travel down his body for a few seconds – he looked best in black, ".. I need to see you again.." he muttered.

"Well, it seems you will indeed see me again." I smiled.

"Does that mean you'll give me your phone number?" he grinned and I saw his eyes do the same thing mine did to him; check me out.

I hummed, "..hmm.. no. We'll see if fate actually works." I smiled.

"You can't be serious.." he tilted his head, looking at me in disbelief, "I found you again, how can I leave when I don't know if I'll ever see you again?"

"You said you believed in fate."

I found him undeniably attractive and intriguing. However, at that moment, I realized I wasn't emotionally equipped to entertain the idea of liking someone or embarking on dates. The weight of my personal struggles loomed large, and I couldn't shake the fear that if he discovered the extent of my problems, he'd likely reject me. Hence, I concluded it was better to distance myself now rather than risk inevitable disappointment later on.

It's not like I'd see him again.

Truly, it's been more than a month since I last saw him; I did think about him way more often than usual but he still remained a nice, distant memory. A memory that was in the past and would never be in the future.

"Yo, we're leaving already? It's 2AM." my friend whined, although we were already walking down the stairs, toward the exit, with our jackets on and bags in our hands.

"No, love, we're just taking our fucking bags for a little walk." another friend replied, rolling her eyes and I couldn't help but laugh at their bickering.

Immediately after departing from the bar, he made his way out of the restaurant located directly beneath it. You have to be fucking kidding me.

"You.." he whispered, his eyes widened.

My mouth hung open, my eyes as wide as his; I really couldn't believe it this time. This couldn't be a coincidence, right?

"What.. are you doing here?" there was nothing else that could leave my mouth at that time.

"I work here.. now, you can't tell me this is a coincidence." he walked closer to me, although still keeping a distance to be respectful.

It definitely wasn't but I was still in the same mood I was back then.

"I can't tell just yet." I teased him; deep down I wished I could give him way more. But I knew I couldn't.

"Don't.. tell me.. are you not gonna give me your phone number? Again?" he chuckled in disbelief once again. I nodded.

"He better be a murderer, bitch; that's the only valid reason for you not giving him your phone number yet." shit, I completely forgot that my friends were literally behind me, staring at us; they knew nothing about this.

"Stop." I whispered to my friend and I don't think she heard me but she definitely saw the expression on my face.

"Please?" he said and I almost gave in when I saw those eyes.

I have always been self-destructive but this wasn't it, this time. It was realistic, right? I really couldn't do this; I knew he wouldn't be able to keep up with my lifestyle so I was just doing me a favor by saving myself from possible heartbreak. Right?

"I promise you now; if we meet again, I'm opening up to you. Fully. My phone number, my likes, my diskikes." I gave him a teasing smile, which he seemed happy to receive.

"Pinky promise. Now. I trust fate but not you." he chuckled and so did I.

"But you trust my pinky?" I laughed but he seemed serious, despite his playful stare. I sighed, still smiling, wrapping my pinky around his, "..promise."

This would probably never happen. It's fine.

This time, I really thought about him; dreamed about him even. That was very unlike me but it happened either way. I seemed to be doing lots of things that were unlike me lately – like going to this bar again. I wasn't going to see him but I was hoping to.

The whiskey was cold against my lips, my black dress hugging my hips as I sat down on the couch.

"Third time's the charm."

No.

I turned my head and saw Chris speaking to the friend group that were sitting next to ours; I saw them getting up and leaving, Chris replacing them.

"Oh God.. what did you tell them?" my grin was wider than usual, I really wanted to see him after all.

"That.. I needed to sit next to you. And that it was a matter of life and death." he smiled, taking a sip of his own drink.

"You're crazy."

"For you." he said, searching for something.

Before realising, I saw his phone in front of me, signaling me to dial my phone number. And of course, I did.

"So. Start. Tell me everything."

"Do you have free time?" I tilted my head, still looking at him.

"For you? Always." he chuckled.

I cupped his cheeks and pulled him closer, looking into his eyes to make sure he wanted to kiss me as well. And as soon as I felt him leaning towards me, I placed the softest kiss on his own soft lips.

"Take me home?"

[to-thelakes]

heard ( carmy berzatto x reader )

content warnings; depiction of panic attack and anxiety, mentions of suicide/death (mikey), reader gets a cut (but super minor)

summary; you've had a really overwhelming day and carmy has to calm you down from a panic attack he mostly caused

dropping this here and running, i'm in love with carmy berzatto, i'm so sorry

Working at the Beef was stressful. Usually, you didn’t mind. In fact, you loved it. The stress meant that you didn’t have time to overthink anything because you were being ordered to do a million things all at once. It was good. You loved it.

But not today. 

Carmy had given you a new recipe to learn and you were fucking up creating the pea puree. Somehow it always ended up too runny and no matter how you changed the temperature while you cooked or how long you left it to reduce, it turned out like shit. Runny, tasteless shit.

It was like the universe had decided to take a cosmic shit on your already fucked up day.

You had left the house at the ass crack of dawn and unintentionally woken up your roommate who had decided to call you and berate you for your entire journey on the L. It’s safe to say you were regretting your 12 month lease with the roommate from hell. But you tried your best to swallow down all the cruel words and carry on with your day.

Work had always been a good distraction but it was two hours till service started and you felt like you were already losing it. You were sure everyone could see how you were cracking under the pressure too.

As you tried to learn the new dish, Carmen would come over every five or so minutes to check on your progress, taste the dish and you could see him getting increasingly frustrated under the surface. 

He had been unusually calm since the start of the day but the cracks were beginning to show. Since everyone had come in, Marcus had been distracted by his desserts which meant he had ignored all his usual prepwork. Carmy had kindly tried to remind him that desserts was not his job yet. Then Sydney and Richie had been arguing all morning which Carmy, of course, found himself in the middle of that. 

On top of that, Richie had decided that today was the perfect day to bring up how Carmy shouldn’t have even owned this place. That it was Richie’s place and just because Mikey had left it to him didn’t mean shit.

That had riled Carmy up and the two had a screaming match in the front room before Carmy came stalking back through to the office. You knew that if you fucked up on more attempt at this sauce, he was gonna lose his shit at you. 

You had never been at the receiving end of his anger before so you knew that if he lost it, so would you.

So as you fired up the next attempt, you replayed every piece of advice that Carmy and Sydney had given you since the start of the day and tried your best. You really tried. Even if T had distracted you halfway through, you thought that the puree had come out perfect.

And you were relieved. Because in your attempt to create this dish, you had forgotten about the rest of your prep work. 

“Fuck,” You cursed under your breathe as you noticed Carmy heading your way. You knew that you were about to be shouted at, you could just tell, and you could feel the anxiety rising in your chest. You had just finished plating your latest attempt and the puree seemed to be at the right consistency. Hell, it even looked good. Your station was spotless and clean. There was nothing Carmen could be mad about.

Except for no prep work. 

You glared at the plastic tubs of veggies like they could have done anything to change your fate.

“How's it looking, Chef?” Carmy asked, a frustrated edge to his voice. You snapped your head towards him and forced a smile onto your face. The tension in the room seemed to increase ten fold at that action.

“Pretty sure I finally got it down, just need to finish prepping the veg and then I’m ready for service,” You responded, forcing a smile onto your face. Carmy nodded and you passed him a fork, slipping away to the box of veggies. This was probably going to take you until dinner service.

You really fucked up but you ignored the anxious feeling in your gut in favour of beginning your prepwork. With a knife in hand, you quickly began to chop. You were skilled with a knife. That had been the main thing you were good at, something that Carmen had praised you endlessly for in the few weeks he had been here.

So, you hoped that if you just got the prep done quickly and perfectly, it would alleviate some of the simmering anger.

But then you heard a fork clatter harshly against a plate and you whipped your head to look at him. There was no alleviating the anger now. He was a powder keg about to explode and you had just triggered it..

“It’s a simple fucking dish, Chef! How do you keep fucking this up?” He shouted as he stared at you. You were looking back down at your prepwork again, going back to chopping. He slammed his hand on the counter, “Hey!” The whole kitchen’s eyes were on you now, “Look at me when I’m talking to you,” He snapped. You stopped dead in your tracks, looked at him, wide-eyed. He had caught you off guard and that pissed him off even more, “It’s a fucking pea puree. I could make this when I was 12 and you still can’t get it fucking right! It’s so fucking simple. Do I need to fucking baby you through every step? Jesus fucking Christ! A toddler could do this better than you can and you’ve been at it for fucking four fucking hours. Stop wasting everyone’s time and if you can’t get it right then get the fuck out!” He snapped. You blinked at him, frozen to your spot, “Don’t just fucking stand there, get to work!” He slammed his hand on the side again.

You nodded, mumbled “Yes, Chef” and went back to prepping your veg as Carmy picked up your plate and threw the attempt at the dish in the bin. You swallowed the lump in your throat, trying not to feel the overwhelming anxiety that was making you dizzy. You couldn’t breathe.

Your whole body felt like it was on high alert, ready to give up at any given moment. You tried to suck in deep breaths but suddenly the kitchen felt too hot. You couldn’t do this. Sydney noticed.

“Go take a breather, I got this,” She came up beside you, hand on your shoulder. You shook your head, not wanting to disappoint Carmen even more. Prepwork was where you excelled, this is what you did best. You didn’t trust yourself to speak though, you could feel your chest restricting.

You continued chopping, it became more frenzy-like as Sydney glanced around. The whole kitchen had watched your interaction with Carmy, unsure how to react to it. Sydney didn’t know what to say.

But then you sliced your finger. You were moving too quickly, mind not being able to catch up with your hand quick enough to avoid the slice. You cried out as your knife clattered to the chopping board. You grabbed tissue and quickly wrapped it up as you stepped back.

“Go get a plaster, I’ll finish your prep,” Sydney reiterated as she gently pushed you away from your station. You shook your head, desperately trying to keep up. You couldn’t but then you felt the ground feel like it was tilting under your feet.

Maybe she was right. You needed to get out and so you went straight for the backdoor. You didn’t even bother to clean up your cut, just holding the tissue to it as you stumbled down the steps to the alley. 

Your back slammed against the wall as you sucked in breaths but it was like you couldn’t get enough oxygen. The tears started and you couldn’t do it. You couldn’t do it. You slowly slid down the wall, still squeezing the tissue over your cut. 

You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t do it. You were doomed to be a failure and you couldn’t fucking breathe and it was too hot.

Your arms wrapped over the top of your head, eyes squeezed shut as you desperately tried to take in deep breaths but you couldn’t. You just couldn’t. You were sure you were going to die like this. It would be the end of you.

In the fucking back alley of a shitty restauraunt with a shitty new owner and the last owner killed himself and you weren’t surprised. You couldn’t do this. You were choking on nothing.

Then a hand suddenly came to rest against your knee and your legs were being pushed down. You were trying to fight it, words of whoever it was coming through like they were trying to speak through water.

“You gotta breathe,” They said as they finally managed to break through your strength to straighten your legs out. You dropped your hands to your lap and when you looked up, Carmy was there. You felt the panic come back twice as hard and you turned your face away, bringing your knees back up. But he shoved them back down.

“Hey, hey,” His tone had softened. It didn’t seem as angry anymore and that terrified you. Angry men who pretended not to be were the worst kind of men. You still couldn’t breathe, the panic constricting your chest as you stared at your legs, “You gotta just breathe,” Carmy said as he reached out. He grabbed your hand, the bloody tissue still wrapped around your cut, “I know it’s hard,” He said as he glanced at your face. You were completely boneless, it was like your body had lost all its will to live.

Your world was tilting underneath you and you couldn’t think straight. Carmy’s touch was somewhat grounding though as he unwrapped the tissue and wiped the cut before putting a band-aid over it. It gave you something to focus on but you were terrified that he was going to scream at you.

“I’m sorry,” You managed through panicked breaths. He nodded, “I don’t know what’s wrong,” You choked out. The tears filling your eyes as you stared down at your bandaged hand. You still weren’t breathing right but the panic was slowly starting to fall away, “I keep trying but I can’t do anything right today,” You lifted your knees up again, wrapping your arms around your head again.

“You're constricting your throat,” He said as he nudged your knees again. He was sitting against the wall beside you, watching you. 

As frustrated as he was with you and as angry as he was that you couldn’t just make the fucking dish, he also didn’t like seeing you like this. He cared about everyone in his kitchen and the thought that he had given you a panic attack tore him up inside. He didn’t know how to express it. He had always been shit at apologies.

You straightened your knees out again, letting your arms rest against your thighs as you closed your eyes.

“I’m sorry, Chef,” You said after a beat, “I know I should have done my veg prep earlier and the recipe is easy. I’ve made pea puree before, ask Sydney, I just- I don’t know why I can’t get it right today,” You muttered. Carmy looked at you, the corners of his lips turned down a little and you looked so defeated, “I’ve been off my game and I have this roommate from Hell that makes me think I’m so goddamn selfish. I just,” You let out a ragged breathe, tears welling in your eyes, “I promise, I’ll be good for dinner service,” you muttered. Carmy looked at you, his eyebrows furrowed ever-so-slightly.

“You’re not selfish,” Carmy responded. 

“Heard,” You muttered. He nodded and then turned back to look up at the sky, as did you. It was so strange with Carmy. He never really said much. He’d been here for about a month now and he was desperately trying to claw the business out of the ground. He seemed to care so much but he had an odd way of showing it, I suppose.

“I’ll show you how to make it again,” He said after a minute or two of silence. You nodded.

“Thank you.” You let out a soft breath, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. You hadn’t fucked up that much, at least.

“You two fuckers just gonna sit there or help us?” The voice of Richie broke through the relative calm that had settled between you. It was probably the quickest you had come down from a panic attack, ever.

“Like you fucking help us anyway,” You bit back as you slowly pushed yourself to your feet. Carmy was quick to follow.

“Doing a lot more than you lazy fucks right now, sat there staring at the sky like God’s gonna answer your fucking prayers,” Richie continued to bitch as you walked inside with him. Carmy followed quickly after.

“I don’t pray," You stated as you rounded the corner back to your station. Sydney was mostly done with your prep now and you were beyond thankful, “I got it from here,” You said, slipping in next to her. Sydney smiled, glad to see you feeling a bit better.

“Why’s he so calm?” Sydney asked as she watched Carmy walk past. He seemed in a better mood than he had been a moment ago.

“Fuck knows, thought he’d tell me to fuck off when he found me,” You admitted as you glanced back at him. His fucking arms drove you wild and the fact that he had his hands on you, forcing you to straighten your legs. Fuck. You didn’t want to think about it too much. And he had put that plaster on you, the warmth of his hands was something else. If you hadn’t been so fucked up with anxiety, you probably would have jumped his bones.

“You gonna fuck up another dish?” Sydney teased as she stepped away, passing you a glove for your plastered hand. 

“I’m getting a private lesson for it actually,” You retorted, a smile plastered on your face as you winked at Sydney.

“Less talking, more chopping,” Carmy said as he slipped past the two of you. You nodded.

“Yes, Chef,” You both parotted back to him. Sydney grinned and headed back to her station while you settled back into prep. You felt more like yourself now. Though, you did also really want a piece of Carmy.

[arcane-vagabond]

Today and Every Day

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: A glimpse into your life with the one and only Jake "Hangman" Seresin starting from your first date and ending with a twist. A fic inspired by the song "Marry Me" by train.

Content Warning: First dates, Proposal, Marriage, Pregnancy, Allusions to smut, Making out, Old Age, Nerves, Tooth rotting fluff, Romance. I think that's everything.

Word Count: 4k

A/N: This fic was written as a part of @ohtobeleah's Galentine's Day Special! I had so much fun writing it, and I hope you all have just as much fun reading it!! As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! Until next time!

Jake was nervous. No. He was terrified, actually. He had never been this scared to go on a date before, but here he was, leg bouncing up and down in the driver’s seat as he waited outside of the restaurant he agreed to meet you at. He had met you at the cafe just last week, and already he was smitten. You had been sitting there, typing away on your laptop when he had spotted you as he walked in with Javy and Phoenix. It had taken an incredible amount of self will and determination to finally get up and go talk to you, but he was glad he had because now he was getting ready to go on your first date.

He really, really hoped he didn’t screw it up.

Taking a deep breath, he shoved the door of his truck open, stepping out and into the parking lot. He was a little early, but better that than being late, he supposed. He crossed the street, heart stopping and breath catching in his throat when he spotted you through the window. You were standing in a pretty, blue dress looking around the lobby nervously as you glanced down at your phone, bottom lip caught between your teeth.

Shaking himself from his stupor, he pulled the door open and stepped inside. You glanced up from your phone at the noise, giving him a soft smile that left him breathless all over again.

“Hey,” you greeted quietly, sliding your phone into your purse as you turned to face him. A shy smile curled on his lips as he took you in, a characteristic that felt so foreign to him. Jake was usually a man of confidence, but there was something about you that seemed send him into a tizzy with one look.

“Hey,” he responded. “Were you waiting long?”

“Not at all,” you assured him, smoothing down the skirt of your dress, an action that Jake found absolutely endearing. He tore his eyes away from you as the hostess came back to the stand, flashing a polite smile at the two of you.

“Are you ready?” He asked, gesturing towards the other woman. You turned around, eyes widening in surprise before flashing him a quick smile and a nod.

The hostess seated the two of you quickly, and your waiter had stopped by shortly after to take your drink order. The two of you sat in a moment of silence, and Jake noted that it wasn’t altogether an uncomfortable one, but rather tense and nervous.

“You know,” he spoke after another moment, causing your eyes to flicker up to meet his, “I was actually really nervous for today.”

That seemed to shock you, and you let out a startled giggle before smiling up at him.

“Really?”

He nodded.

“I was too, actually,” you admitted, glancing up at him shyly through your lashes. Jake tried not to think too much about how he wanted to reach out and lay kisses on the spots where your lashes brushed against your cheeks. Instead, he cleared his throat, and leaned forward to flash you a charming smile.

“So, let’s get to know each other,” he suggested, a wicked twinkle in his eyes. “If you could attend any concert from any time period, who would it be?”

Jake hadn’t been this nervous in two years. Of course, the last time he had felt like this was on your first date, and now here he was, about to get down on one knee and ask you to be his wife. Truthfully, he had gone ring shopping the day after your first date. He had known from the moment he first laid eyes on you that you were it for him, and the date had just confirmed it.

The two of you had eaten and passed the time in giggles and more ridiculous questions, a conversation that soon became more in depth and personal, and Jake found that the longer he spent with you, the more he didn’t want the night to end.

So, at the end of the meal, he had asked you if you wanted to go for a walk along the beach, and you had happily agreed.

That was two years ago, and now the two of you walked along the same beach, hand in hand as Jake ran his other one nervously through his hair. You peered at him from the corner of your eye, brow furrowing and causing that cute little crease that Jake loved to kiss away.

“Are you feeling okay?” You asked him finally, stopping and turning to face him with a worried expression. You reached up to feel his forehead, humming as you dropped your hand.

“You don’t feel warm,” you muttered, tilting your head in confusion, the little crease deepening as you try to determine what on earth could possibly be wrong with your boyfriend. Jake let out a nervous chuckle, squeezing your hand in reassurance as he takes a steadying breath.

“I’m fine, darlin’,” he told you, but you didn’t seem convinced, eyes still sweeping over him to try and find something wrong with him. “‘m just nervous is all.”

“Nervous?” You questioned, shaking your head slightly. “What on earth for?”

Jake took another deep breath before dropping down onto one knee, smiling at the way your face morphs from confused concern into tearful surprise.

“Darlin’,” he began, pulling the tiny, black box out of his pocket and popping it open to reveal a stunning diamond ring, “the day we met in that little cafe was the beginning of something extraordinary. The past two years have been filled with laughter, tears, the occasional fight, and so much love. I wouldn’t trade any of it for anything in the world, do you hear me? The best day of my life was when you agreed to make it official and be my girlfriend, but I’m hoping you’ll top it here by agreeing to be my wife. Will you marry me?”

Tears streamed down your face as you covered your mouth to keep the sobs from spilling out. You began to nod frantically, wiping the tears away as you sobbed out a laugh, the pretty smile he loved oh so much coming into view.

“Jacob Seresin, of course I’ll marry you,” you laughed, reaching out for him to pull him into a soul-crushing kiss. Jake smiled against your lips as he moved to stand, hauling you into his arms as he rocked the two of you from side to side. Pulling away only when the two of you needed air, he slipped the ring onto your finger, stroking the soft skin as he continued to grin.

“I love you,” he said, looking up at you finally. You squeezed his hand, smiling up at him gently as you placed another kiss to his lips.

“I love you too.”

“Jake, you could power a whole city with how much you’re moving,” Javy griped, placing a reassuring hand on Jake’s shoulder. “Calm down, man.”

“Sorry,” Jake grimaced, glancing down the aisle towards the doors leading into the sanctuary of the church. The pews were filled with friends and family from both sides, eagerly awaiting the start of the ceremony.

“I’m just nervous,” he grumbled, eyes still trained on the doors where you would appear any moment.

“But why?” Javy frowned, following his best friend’s line of sight. Jake didn’t answer for a moment, chewing on his bottom lip as his foot tapped against the marble floor and his hands clenched and unclenched at his sides.

“Jake?”

“What if she changes her mind?” Jake blurted out, eyes finally looking at Javy with panic lacing through the green. “What if she realizes that I’m not good enough for her? That I’m the worst choice she could possibly make?”

Javy stared at him for a moment before ducking his head down. For a moment, Jake was horrified that his best friend realized that he was right and didn’t know how to tell him, but then he realized that Javy’s shoulders were shaking, and the fear was replaced with indignant confusion as Javy reached out a hand to Jake’s shoulders in order to steady himself. Javy stood back up, wiping a stray tear as he almost broke out into another round of laughter.

“You really are an idiot sometimes, man. You know that?” Javy wheezed, patting Jake on the back. “That girl is so in love with you, it’s not funny. Besides, she could definitely do worse than you.”

“Like who?” Jake mumbled, glaring at the other man. Javy’s grin was wide as he answered.

“Like Bradshaw.”

Jake laughed at that, the nerves easing out of him slowly as he nodded.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he conceded, head snapping back to the doors as the music picked up. One by one, your bridesmaids came walking down the aisle, and Jake’s heart sped up as the last girl made her way down the aisle. The quintessential theme began to play as everyone stood up, and Jake felt the tears spring to his eyes as you finally came into view.

You were beautiful, dressed in your white gown. Jake always thought you looked beautiful, of course, but knowing that you were currently walking down the aisle to become his wife?

He wiped at his eyes, and he heard Javy let out a low chuckle behind him.

“You got this,” he whispered, and Jake let out a low laugh. Yeah, he did have this, and he never wanted to let this go. Your eyes were trained on him the entire walk down the aisle, a smile plastered on your face and Jake swore he could die happy right then and there.

You stopped in front of him, and Jake was only vaguely aware of the ceremony going on around him. Of course he spoke when he was supposed to, but other than that, his focus was locked on you, and it seemed you were in the same boat.

The second Jake heard the priest say “you may kiss the bride,” he was on you, hands cradling your jaw as he kissed you breathless, dipping you slightly as one hand came down to rest on your waist. You kissed him back, excited giggles escaping past your lips as the two of you got lost in the moment. Finally, Jake pulled away, green eyes sparkling as his thumb caressed the apple of your cheek.

“Mr. Seresin,” you purred, looking up at him through your lashes, not unlike the way you did on your first date.

“Mrs. Seresin,” he beamed, leaning in for another kiss.

“Honey, you’re making me nervous,” Jake chuckled, watching you bounce around the house, your nervous energy positively infectious. You glanced at him before quickly looking away, fighting back a smile as you scurried about with the laundry on your hip. You had never been good at keeping secrets from him, but he always thought it was cute how you tried.

“There’s nothing to be nervous about,” you assured him, placing the basket on the coffee table and picking up one of the many articles of clothing bunched together.

“I’m sure there isn’t, sugar,” Jake continued, picking up a t-shirt to help you fold. “But when you’ve been scurrying about the house for two days with that secretive little smirk of yours, it gets a man’s heart pumpin’ and mind racin’.”

You paused in your folding, watching him for a moment before snorting and continuing your task.

“I think you’re being a tad paranoid, babe,” you teased, setting down the t-shirt you had just finished folding. Jake moved to grab another t-shirt, opening his mouth to say something when he stopped. His brow furrowed in confusion as he lifted up a plain, white onesie.

“Is this Michelle’s?” He asked, giving you a questioning look. It wasn’t unusual for you to wash the clothes of your friends’ kids, but last he checked none of them had babies this small. Michelle had had a baby about half a year ago, but the bright, new bundle was already well past the size of the onesie he currently held in his hands. You smirked at him, continuing to fold the laundry.

“You know Michael is too big for that.”

“Then which of your friends has a baby that I don’t know about?”

“You know about all of my friends’ babies, Jake.”

“Is one of your friends expecting again?”

“Not one of my friends, no,” you grinned, waiting for him to catch on. He stared at you for a second, studying you like you would give him the answer. It wasn’t until you gently cupped your own stomach that his eyes went wide and tears kissed his lash line.

“Honey, are you serious?” He asked, voice barely above a whisper. You bit at your bottom lip in excitement, a grin breaking out across your face.

“Sweetheart, please tell me you’re serious,” he begged, a smile tugging at the corner of his own lips, a shout escaping from him as you nodded in excitement. He tossed the onesie to the side, crossing the distance between you two to scoop you into his arms. He peppered kisses across your face, giggles breaking out between the two of you.

“You have no idea how happy I am right now, darlin’,” he beamed, cradling your face in his hands. “I’m gonna take such good care of the both of you, I promise.”

He placed another kiss to your lips before dropping to his knees in front of you, gently splaying his hands across your belly.

“And you, little one?” He whispered almost reverently. “I’m gonna be the best daddy to you. Make no mistake about it. You’re not even here yet and you’ve already got me wrapped around your little finger. I’m not gonna let anything bad happen to you ever, you hear me?”

He placed a kiss to your stomach, peering up at you as he rested his cheek against you, thumb stroking over your shirt.

“You’ve given me the best gift I could have ever asked for,” he murmured, heart so full as he stared up at you.

“It’s too quiet in here,” Jake muttered, leaning back in his recliner. You walked into the living room, handing him a beer with a knowing smile on your face. Jake frowned as you moved to sit on the couch, grabbing your hand and pulling you onto his lap with a grunt as you giggled.

“That’ll happen when your kids move out,” you reminded him with a smile. Your youngest had officially moved off to college a few days prior, and it came as no surprise to you that Jake was not handling the change very well.

Your home had been filled with the constant laughter and chatter of three, beautiful kids for twenty-three years now, and while you were sad to see your kids leave, you were happy to see them grow into the adults they had become. Jake, on the other hand, missed his children terribly.

“They should visit more,” he griped, resting his hand on your thigh, stroking his thumb up and down as you settled into him.

“Jake, they visit almost every week,” you snorted, resting a hand on his chest with a shake of your head. He gave you a look before taking a sip of his beer.

“And it’s not enough,” he retorted with a scowl. You rolled your eyes with a scoff before a smirk overtook your features. You leaned into him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you began to place lingering kisses across his jaw.

“You’re telling me,” you hummed, lips ghosting over the shell of his ear, smirk deepening as he shivered, “that you can’t think of any reason as to why having our kids out of the house might be beneficial to the two of us.”

Jake arched a brow at you, turning to look you over as a matching smirk pulled on his lips.

“Dunno, darlin’,” he murmured, maneuvering you so that you straddled him, “might need some convincin’ that it’s a good thing.”

“Well, I can be very persuasive,” you purred, lips moving down to place hot, open-mouthed kisses along the length of his neck. Jake let out a low groan as you found the spot you knew drove him wild, nipping at the skin before laving your tongue over the same spot.

“Oh, I’m well aware, sugar,” he grunted, hands encouraging your hips to roll against his as he threw his head back in a moan. “You managed to get three kids out of me. Despite my protests, might I add. Practically cornered me until I gave you what you wanted.”

You pulled away with a mock glare, Jake whining at the loss of attention.

“I most certainly did not,” you scowled with a raise of an eyebrow. Jake tried to move your hips once more, but you remained unmoved as you glared at him. “In fact, I distinctly remember you begging me for each one of them.”

“Agree to disagree,” he muttered, leaning up to press his lips against yours. You moved to pull back and argue, but Jake held you firmly against him as you giggled into his mouth. His tongue stroked against your own, and your fingers found purchase in his graying locks. You ground down against him, Jake rewarding you with a delicious moan.

“What was that about convincing me that an empty nest is a good thing?” Jake panted, pulling back to look at you. Another grin spread across your face as you moved to stand. Jake stopped you and you looked at him in confusion as he smirked.

“Where do you think you’re goin’?” He asked, running his hands up and down the backs of your thighs before gripping your ass with a hearty squeeze.

“The bedroom?” You supplied, amusement clear on your face.

“Thought part of the fun of being an empty nester was that we could do it wherever we wanted?”

You snorted. “The kids still have keys, Jake, and I’d rather not have our kids walk in unexpectedly on us ‘doing it’ as you so eloquently put it.”

Jake’s eyes widened in shock before nodding firmly. Giving your ass a quick swat, he helped you up off his lap before standing, tugging you quickly towards the bedroom.

“I’m confiscating those damn keys the next time they’re over, sugar,” he warned, grinning as you burst into a fit of giggles.

Jake watched from the porch as his grandkids ran around the expansive yard, screaming and giggling in delight as they chased each other. He still remembered the days when his own kids, their parents, would run around and cause mayhem around the house. He chuckled as the youngest, Ryan, toddled after his older cousins, a toothy grin on the toddler’s face.

His children and their spouses all sat by the fire pit, talking and laughing about something or other, just content to be all together once more, and Jake felt a surge of love at seeing his family together again after so long.

“What are you smiling about over here, honey?”

He turned to see you walking over towards him, a cup of tea in hand as you offered him a loving smile. Your hair had long since grayed, now a stunning silver that reminded him of starlight. The wrinkles around your eyes creased as you looked at him, and though he knew you were self conscious about them, prodding at them with your fingers and a scowl every morning, he made no secret of how much he loved them.

“Evidence of the years spent together,” he’d tell you before kissing each one.

Now he held his arm out for you to sidle up against him, aged hands resting on his back as he let out a contented sigh.

“You remember when our kids would run around out here?” He asked you, his own hand smoothing up and down the length of your back as he peered down at you. You turned your gaze to the yard, your eyes holding ardent adoration as you looked at your many grandchildren.

“Oh I remember,” you chuckled, resting your head against his shoulder as you took a sip of your tea. “You’d come in with mud on your shoes and I’d just about kill the lot of you.”

“You loved it,” he snickered, kissing the top of your head as you sighed, looking back up at him.

“I did,” you admitted. “I do miss it sometimes. And, while I love these critters we call grandkids, I’m always happy to ship them back home to their parents.”

Jake laughed at that, his own wrinkles creasing at the sides of his eyes as he squeezed you tighter. The two of you stood in contented silence as you watched the kids wear themselves out. Sarah, your middle child’s youngest, came running up to you with an excited gleam in her green eyes, words coming out in pants as she fought to catch her breath.

“Gramma, can we go look at the photos again?” She asked, clutching at your sweater and bouncing on the tips of her toes. You chuckled, smoothing a weathered hand over her blonde hair.

“Of course we can, my darling,” you cooed, motioning for her to lead the way. You turned back to give Jake a kiss, patting his cheek lovingly before following after the little girl. Jake watched you go, hoping the two of you had many more days like this to come.

“Are you going to go talk to her, or are you just going to keep staring like a creep?”

Jake startled from his daydream, green eyes wide as Phoenix gave him a knowing look. Javy slid into the seat next to him, nudging his shoulder as he took a sip from his to go cup.

“She’s right,” he said, gesturing over to where you sat two tables down, typing away contently at your laptop. “You look like a creep just staring at her like that. What are you doing? Thinking about your whole future together?”

Jake scowled at his best friend, shooting another glare at Phoenix for good measure.

“Don’t you two have something better to talk about?” He groused. Phoenix tapped her chin, pretending to think.

“Nope,” she said finally, popping her lips together as she gave him a grin. “Why don’t you go and introduce yourself?”

“I dunno,” Jake muttered, giving you another glance, his heart stuttering nervously as he took you in once more.

“Since when have you ever been the type to be nervous about talking to a girl?” Phoenix snorted, raising an eyebrow at Javy who just shrugged in return.

“‘m not nervous,” he muttered, fidgeting with his fingers as he glanced back at you once more. “Just don’t want to bother her is all.”

“Oh well,” Javy began, pushing his seat back and moving to stand, “if you’re not interested, then I guess I’ll-”

“Don’t you dare,” Jake snapped, grabbing his best friend’s wrist and standing. Javy gave him a triumphant smirk as Jake sighed, clearly bested. He pursed his lips, sparing his friends another glare before gathering up all of his courage and walking over to where you sat.

“Excuse me,” he said, causing you to jump, eyes wide as you gazed up at him. Jake swore his heart stopped then and there. He flashed you a charming smile, one you happily returned as he gestured to the seat next to you. “Is this seat taken?”

“Not at all,” you smiled, gesturing for him to sit. He did so, leaning forward on the table as he looked at you, nerves still fluttering in his stomach as he got a better look at you. You looked at him curiously as he continued to stare, raising an eyebrow at him. He cleared his throat with a sheepish smile, stretching out his hand for you to shake.

“Hi,” he said, noting how soft your hand felt in his as he gave it a squeeze. “I’m Jake.”

A/N: Aaaahh!! So what did you guys think?? Don't forget to follow my sideblog - @sailoraviator-library and turn on post notifications if you'd like to be notified of when I post! As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! You can also find me on AO3 under the username sailor_aviator. Until next time!

[clairewritesandrambles]

Drunk on You - Scott Miller

Summary: Scott is drunk and doesn't have the patience to wait until you two are home to have his way with you.

Pairing: Scott Miller x F!Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: Smut (18+ Only), spanking, semi-public/public sex, breeding kink, pregnancy talk, rough sex, Scott is a bit of a brat tamer, not beta'd, basically porn with no plot

A/N: Everyone say thank you to @hederasgarden for inspiring this with her ask. Shoutout to the Corenswet server for encouraging me in my times of need. Sorry if there are mistakes, I didn't get a beta reader for this one.

You should have known better than to let Javi talk you into going out. He'd begged you and Scott to come out with the team for once, promising to choose a spot that would be calmer for you. Instead, you had walked into a bar where the bass vibrated your teeth and the patrons were packed in so tightly you had to push people out of the way to breathe.

Shouting a thank you to the bartender, you fought your way back to Scott's perch at a high-top table. Sliding his beer to him, you admired your own skill at how little you had spilled during the journey. You saw his mouth move in what you presumed was a thank you, but the thumping in your ears prevented you from hearing any of it.

You really were going to kill Javi when you found him. He had abandoned you for the floor long ago, leaving Scott to deal with your moodiness on his own.

Seeming to notice you slipping into your own head, one of Scott's large hands slipped under your shirt to graze the small of your back. The soft warmth of his touch brought you back to him, pulling you into his body so he could lean into your ear.

"We can leave if you really want to." His words tickle your ear, still having to raise his voice for you to hear him. Melting into his deep voice, you rested your head on his shoulder before looking up at him.

"I told Javi I'd be his DD. I can't leave him." Scott groaned, rolling his glassy eyes. You knew he wanted to go home as badly as you did, but you refused to leave Javi and Scott refused to leave you.

"I wanna get you home and in bed so I can have my way with you," he whined, hand tightening on your back. "Gonna make sure both of us are stumbling."

You snorted at his joke, tiptoeing to kiss his lips. "You can have me later, lots of time for a round before we sleep."

Scott's lips quirked up into a smirk as he shook his head at you, eyes roving over your outfit. "I need more time for what I have planned for you." He said, tongue licking over his bottom lip as he leaned in to talk into your ear again. "I want to put a baby in you."

Your body flushed at his words, wetness gathering at your core. Scott nipped at your ear, moving your hand to palm the bulge in his jeans as he pinched your nipple through the fabric of your top. "You want that, sweetheart? Do you want me to make your stomach nice and big with my baby?"

"This is cruel punishment," you whined, "making me soak through my panties while I can't fuck you."

"Bars have restrooms for a reason." He smiled at your unimpressed face before leaning back down to mouth at your neck. "Unless you'd rather have me bend you over right here, in front of everyone, and show them how cock drunk I can make you."

"Scott," you warned, your core clenching in response to his words. His hand gripped your breast harder, the friction between the lace of your bra and your skin making your entire body move towards him in want.

His boyish grin told you that Scott would not stop, too far gone in his alcohol to filter his thoughts anymore. "Or I could make you cockwarm me," he said, hand reaching down to tease your core. "Have you sat in my lap with my cock buried in you until I lose it and make you bounce on it? Then I'd get to fill your pretty little cunt and keep you plugged to make sure you're bred."

Suddenly his hands left your body, leaving you cold and aching where he had been. "But if you'd rather just sit here waiting for Javi..." He trailed off, smirking as he saw his effect on you.

This man was going to be the death of you.

Your lips thinned as you weighed the consequences of your choices: either being fucked in a bar restroom, where anyone could find you, or waiting hours for Scott to satisfy the need dripping from you.

"Finish your beer. Then you can fuck me." A victorious grin took over his face as he raised the amber liquid to his lips and gulped it down as quickly as he could.

Jumping up from his stool he grabbed your hand, pushing ahead of you in the crowd as he bee-lined to the neon restrooms sign. You were relieved when he pulled you into the men's room and saw that it was empty, grinning as Scott pushed you backward into a stall. His hand landed on your throat as he kissed you, spinning to pin you to the door as he turned the lock.

"That's my good girl," he groaned, hands cupping your breasts before pulling your bra down to set them free. "Knew you're too fucking desperate to deny me."

You rolled your eyes at his words, his ego being one of the things that became even more apparent when he was drunk. "Shut up and breed me."

Scott pulled away from your kiss to grip your jaw, making you look at him. "Don't be a fucking brat," he warned, grip tightening as he held your gaze. "Now fucking turn around for me."

You didn't even have time to follow his directions before he grabbed your hips and forced your front against the cool metal door himself. His grip was rough as he made quick work of your pants, pooling them around your knees as he knelt to have his face level with your core.

"Already so fucking wet for me," he practically moaned, licking one wide stripe up you. You didn't have time to react before he spat on your pussy, quickly pushing two thick fingers into you.

"Fuck, Scott," you cried out, pushing back into his hand. He steeled his grip on your hip, locking you in place. Agonizingly, he pumped his fingers into you, barely dragging them out of you before pushing back in. "Please fuck me, I need it. Please."

Scott didn't respond as he continued his slow movements, seeming to take it as a challenge to tease you even further. The only indication he had even heard you was a nip to the top of your thigh, one that you knew meant for you to find patience.

"Scott, come on," you pleaded, fighting to push your hips back further into him. His grip on you tightened in a warning, making you groan in frustration. "Come and fucking breed me before I get someone else to do it."

Four thunderous smacks rung throughout the room, lighting your ass on fire. Scott stood up behind you, ripping his fingers from you before forcing them into your mouth. You choked briefly from the roughness, his other hand tightening around your throat as you began to suck your juices off of him.

"I should make you fucking choke for that," he spat, pressing you completely into the stall door. You could feel how hard he was against you, forming an image of his leaking cock in your mind. "Should fucking force you on your knees and make you sob around my cock as an apology. Then you'd be begging for me to fuck a baby into you just so you can breathe."

Your arousal was practically dripping down your thighs at his words, desperately pushing back against him for any sort of friction. Scott took his fingers out of your mouth briefly, allowing you to respond to him. "Please, Scott, I'm sorry," you whined. "Just please fuck me, I need you. I need you to fill me, please."

Scott's grip on your throat tightened, pushing his fingers further into your mouth to make you gag as tears sprung into your eyes. "Oh, you want mercy, sweetheart?" He questioned, a satisfied smirk appearing when you nodded around his hand as a tear ran down your cheek. "Lucky for you, I'm in a forgiving mood."

He removed his fingers from your mouth, pressing on the back of your neck to force you into a bent-over position before you heard the clinking of his belt unbuckling. "I am going to fuck your cunt until I've filled you. Then, when we get home, I am going to tie your knees to your chest. I am going to fuck and fill you so many times you're going to be begging for a break. Understood?" You quickly nodded, agreement slipping from your mouth as the image filled your mind. You were clenching around nothing in desperation, his words alone bringing you to the edge.

Satisfied, Scott finished pulling his cock out before slowly sinking into you without pretense. The cold metal of the door hardening your nipples, combined with his words and the delicious stretch of his cock, threw you over the edge before he had even finished pushing into you. A throaty groan rumbled in your ear as Scott leaned in, a sudden jolt of his hips burying the rest of him inside of you.

Scott wasted no time, setting a brutal pace that had your brain foggy from pleasure in seconds. Every thrust crowded you further into the door, your core slowly, agonizingly slowly, adjusting to his size. Nonsensical pleas dripped from your lips, interspersed with shouts of his name as you lost yourself in your pleasure.

"Fucking hell," he grunted as another orgasm rippled through you. "You sound so fucking pretty begging for me to fuck you. It's gonna make me overflow your pussy with my cum, then I'll keep fucking it deeper into you just to make sure it works." You clenched around him again, a strangled moan overtaking him as his hands shifted to grab the frame of the stall. The sound of the metal moving with the two of you rang throughout the room, highlighting how brutal he was with his movements.

"Fuck yes," he groaned, a quick slap being delivered to your ass. "I'm going to keep you bred all the fucking time, tie you up and fill you for days. God, you're going to look so beautiful when you're pregnant with my children. With your big round belly and tits overflowing."

The last of your sanity fractured at his words, a third orgasm overtaking your full body as you went over the edge. Scott swore behind you, his moans becoming animalistic as he squeezed a hand around your throat. His thrusts became impossibly harder, chasing his orgasm in full primal instincts. Even when you felt him twitch and fill you, he didn't stop his rhythm - intent on fulfilling his promise of fucking it deeper.

With one last shudder, he pulled out, a hand shoving between your shoulder blades. "Stay there," he barked, leaning down to be level with your dripping core once again. Scott groaned at the sight of his cum leaking out, taking two fingers to fuck it back into you and smirking at the overwhelmed noises that escaped you.

Finally satisfied with his work, Scott placed a chaste kiss on your hip before standing back up to tuck himself back into his jeans. He helped you redress, getting lost in the physical aftercare that you knew was, secretly, his favourite part of having sex with you.

You moved to unlock the stall before he pulled you back into him with an arm around your shoulder. With a hand under your chin, he turned your face to place a quick kiss on your lips. "I love you," he said, "but you do look like you just got the life fucked out of you."

You rolled your eyes at him, walking out of the stall on shaky legs to fix your hair in the mirror. "I don't know how you expect me to be normal in there after that."

"That was the goal," he chuckled as he leaned on the sink beside you.

Your phone buzzed at that moment, lighting up with a text from Javi.

Javi: Andy challenged me to more shots. Peter agreed to drive. Go do weird nerd shit with Scott.

The text was followed by an image of an unimpressed-looking Peter with Andy and Javi throwing their arms over him like this was the best night of their lives. Your shoulders sagged with relief at the thought of being able to go home, thighs clenching at the reminder of Scott's promises.

After sending a quick text to Peter to confirm the change, you turned your phone screen to Scott so he could read the message. His entire body lit up as he finished, instantly grabbing your hand and tugging you out of the bathroom in excitement. "Let's go home. You've got a long night ahead of you."

[jeypawlik]

A Confession

Written by Max! I drew this one back in 2020 and haven't posted it here yet. I still really like this one, even if my art style was different.

[sushirrrry]

fiabesco a harry styles x reader one-shot 2.2k words cw: so much fluff

“No, that's not– give it to me.”

Harry’s hands reached for the small device in your hand before you could speak another word. You huffed out a sigh of annoyance before you crossed your arms over your chest.

Harry looks at the phone and then back to the kettle, a few times to make sure that he's right, but you know that you are right.

“That's the right color, I promise.” Your words feel like they mean nothing as the two of you stand in front of the small display. You aren't even sure he's heard you.

It had been like this all day; you were both tired, drained from the house moving process. It was easier to shop online, you had told him. But Harry’s idea was to get you both out of the house, to give you a break from the four walls that you had moved into and been staring at for what felt like days.

That was proving difficult, as the photos and the real-life images were not matching up to either of your standards.

“This is not the same color as online,” Harry scoffed as he turned the kettle around in his hands. “This is like, a dark grey,” He holds the phone, then picks up the kettle. “This is chrome.”

You rolled your eyes, but Harry took notice before he put his hands on his hips and shook his head. The sleeves of his long-sleeved grey shirt were pushed up now; the clothes you both wore must have been filthy as you had been moving in the early hours of the day. The Italian heat was no joke, your frizzy hair and pink cheeks would speak on that.

You could tell that you were getting frustrated at one another. In all honesty, you knew that Harry wanted everything to be perfect and it was a bit frustrating to know that the item in the store wasn't what you both had wanted.

But you look at it with another eye, and note that it could work. “Let's just get it.” You say to him, shrugging. “If we don't like it in the kitchen, we can bring it back. It's not a huge deal.”

Harry’s the one to roll his eyes this time, “Aren't we here to buy this so we could have tea this evening? Isn't that why we're here and not showering?”

It was true– you had both come to the conclusion that the kettle was an important part of the first night ritual. It had dawned on you then that you couldn't really use the item and then bring it back.

“Well, let's buy this one– we can go to another store—” You were cut off by his grumbled words.

“Whatever– do whatever you want.” His visible frustration was pressing you as you bit on your lip. You thought about the photo he had shown you from the website and you really believed that you were looking at the same one.

A lot of the times, the photos were different than real life, and you think the shine may not have been as present in the photo. But you weren't sure.

As you bit your lip, you breathed outward as you spun the small kettle around in your hands.

“Do you really think—"

“I said do whatever you want! Get the fucking chrome then!” His voice was raised then; visible anger crossing his eyes as they knit together, and his hands stayed in his hips. It was a raised voice at me, and I could tell that we had both pushed each other to the brink.

Harry never got frustrated at you; he never yelled or raised his voice, he never looked angry. There weren't any frown lines crossing along his cheeks and forehead because Harry was hardly ever upset or mad at anything.

But you were pushed to your emotional breaking point as you set the kettle down on the shelf a bit too hard, making the metal shelf rattle as you did so. The tightness of your jaw only exceeded your need to cry as you pushed back the tears in your eyes.

You grabbed ahold of the bag that you held on to your shoulder as you started to walk towards the exit of the small kitchen store, nestled in the small nook of the Roman street.

Getting your dream home with the love of your life should have been a happy thing; it should have been a moment where the two of you relished in the sun and drank freshly made orange juice in the early summer mornings to beat the heat of the sun.

Instead, you were fighting back angry tears and walking away without another word because you didn't want to cry in the store. You pushed through the door, onto the street and didn't care if Harry was following you.

But he had been, he was right on your heel because that was the kind of person he was. Harry was kind; he never meant to hurt your feelings or make you frustrated. As soon as he raised his voice, his regret only further mad his anger grow– at himself this time, not the situation.

It was just that he had wanted the evening with you to be perfect. Everything had fallen into place so right. You had loved all of the furniture to the respective rooms, you set the TV up to be able to watch a film at the end of the night. After you had both showered, made love on the empty rug that blessed your living space floor, you would snuggle up on the sofa and watch one of your favorites— Notting Hill. A cup of tea in both of your hands as you allowed yourself the ideal summer night.

But instead, you two were frustrated and burnt out and in need of a meal and a shower, which felt more like it would lead to getting snuggled in bed and falling asleep on either sides.

You let a tear fall, but not anymore because now you could feel the exhaustion in your bones as you felt his presence on you now. You hear the scuffle of his trainers behind you as you lick on your lips and taste the saltiness of the tear that fell.

“C’mon, baby, I’m sorry.” You hear his voice, feeling the way that his hand grips at the back of your neck. It's in the comforting way that you like, as he guides you to turn and face him. Your head fits against his chest as you let it rest there for a moment; not caring about the way that you're sweating.

The hand on your neck moves into your hair as Harry keeps you there for a moment; letting his fingers glide into it, just below the placement of the clip holding your hair back.

“I didn't mean to snap at you,” He tells you, his lips placing on the top of your head as you stand against the wall of the store. The small nook feels private as you let out a huge sigh.

Harry laughs at that; his vibrato of a laugh is felt as you're against him, which makes you’re the edges of your lips move up in a soft smile.

“You're not mad at me, are you?” He asks, nudging an answer from you still.

This time, Harry nudges you away from him, but he places his fingers along your chin to raise you to look right into his eyes. It's a fluid movement, but you take in the way that his facial hair has grown out, the way that his skin has browned, and his eyes are light against it.

You purse your lips, swallowing as you shake your head with a discreetness that you're not even sure he could catch. But he must, because you see the way that the dimple pops along his cheek matter-of-factly.

“I think we're both stressed out,” He nods, “And we're both just a little on edge, hm?” Harry keeps pressing questions but your eyes stare at him for a moment before he presses on your chin again. His fingers feel strong as you hold your stare at him.

“I’m sorry,” You let out, wanting to keep yourself together, “I think we both just need to take a minute and get ourselves together. We were bound to lose ourselves at one point or another.”

The warm Italy breeze hits you and your shut your eyes for a moment as you feel the way that it trapezes across your skin.

“Hm,” Harry tuts, “I think I know a fix for this.”

His hand drops from your chin, grabbing ahold of your hand as you move through the small streets. They're cobblestoned and hold the footsteps of so many others before you— through love, breakup, first kisses, and first glances.

You don't know where he's leading you, but it's fine at the moment because you feel a burst of nostalgia and an outpouring of gratitude that you may have taken for granted before.

Who cared about the color of the kettle when the skies were the fiercest shade of cerulean and the sun hung in its highest peak? Who cared about any of that when the man of your dreams hung tightly onto your hand as he whisked you away and into the streets that would hold all of your memories from now on— bits of happiness here and there were awaiting you?

Harry pulled you along the streets, guiding you and marking small memories here and there as he would turn to ensure you were still with him. Even with the grasp his hand had in you, it felt important for him to know the smile and eagerness was still on your face.

As you arrived by the small socks that held rocky beaches and tented umbrellas, your eyes glided over the small gelato stand that had become accustomed to your routines since visiting Italy to begin with. But now your adventures together here had made this more of an availability than ever before.

Your heart stung at the pricelessness of the moment as you approached the stand with Harry on your hand.

“Bit of a treat to reward ourselves, hm?” He asked you, and your bit your lip as you tried to figure out what flavor you would get.

“Think I’m going to get pistachio,” You tell him, your heart settled on it.

Harrys hums for a moment before he tilts his head and purses his own lips. “Would it be boring for me to just saw custard?”

You laugh a little, nodding, “Yes, no custard. You have to do the lemon.”

You convince him; he orders the pistachio for you, and the lemon for himself— even if it was just so you could have both for yourself, taking bites of his when you could a chance.“Un pistacchio e un limone, per favore.” Your heart clenches at the words he speaks, the language flying off of his tongue as he does so with ease. You long await getaways together had turned into where you had felt your deepest love affairs. 

He hands you yours, and the spoonful is glorious. It melts in your mouth as you both stand off to the side now, the sound of the river behind you as you let your eyes meet his again. You watch the kink of his smile as he hears the pleasure take over you.

“Good, then?” He asks as he takes his own bite. His lips drift over his lips as he nods to confirm it himself, humming in satisfaction.

“This was the perfect idea.” You tell him, taking another bite.

You both head over to a bench by the water, taking in the sites of the tourists and the loved one who have made their trek around the city. So much love and admiration as you sit in a bit of silence.

“What are you most excited for?” Harry asks you, breaking the quiet. You ponder the question for a moment before turning to face him a bit more.

“I think I’m just excited to build a home,” You say, watching as his eyes crinkle by the sides. It's subtle, but you notice with such ease that happiness looks marvelous on him. “Build a family.”

Harry looks at his treat before lifting his eyes to you. “So many,” He mumbles, “So, so many of our little babies.”

You hum before using your thumb to brush over his cheek; your chin leans in to give him the softest, most chaste kiss before pulling back and giving his eyes an easy glance.

“Sono così grato per questa vita.”

Harry leans in to kiss you, your hands wrapping into his hair as you accept it with ease.

“Un fiabesco.” He says against your lips, his eyes taking a glance into yours. It's the kind of dreaming that cannot be done unless you're asleep, certainly.

Your troubles all wash away as you melt away into the sun of the day, leaving bits of memories here and there along the streets of Rome, waiting for you to remember them later— smiling at the love and memories that had adorned them before you, and very much afterwards.