#admittably not the best wording

[rinniessance]

DADDY'S FAVORITE GIRL ༊*·˚ - step dad!gojo x fem!reader

going away for college, the last thing you expected to come back to in the summer is a new step-dad. and you do not like the dangerous glint in his eyes every time he looks at you.

꒰ warnings: nsfw - dark content - mdni .ᐟ.ᐟ non-curse au. step dad!gojo, stepcest, age difference (reader is implied to be 21, gojo is in his late 30s), dubcon, gaslighting, manipulation, cheating, heavy daddy kink, so many pet names (babygirl, pretty, doll, princess etc.), slight dacraphyllia, slight overstimulation, breeding kink, unprotected sex, virginity loss, corruption kink. plot is kinda messy 'cause i was rushing to get to the smut, sowwy ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১ // word count: 5.1k ꒱ ꒰ notes: i am freely being my most disgusting self, thank you for supporting my little insane brain .ᐟ.ᐟ꒱

going away for college, the last thing you expected to come back to during summer break is a new step-dad. ever since your parents divorced when you were 14, your mom has been single – your teenage years, she dedicated herself to you, protecting you from your scumbag father, focusing on your future. you even agreed to delay your college admittance until you were 20, taking two gap years after your high school to stay at your hometown with her. your mom has the worst case of separation anxiety – which is why maybe you should’ve been more concerned when she gradually stopped texting you as the days went on. you assumed the best – maybe she found a hobby, maybe she reconnected with old friends, maybe she finally realized you are an adult and stopped babying you every waking moment. what you did not expect is for her to get married.

these are the thoughts running through you head as you stand in the middle of your living room, fresh out the airport, gawking at the man sleeping on the couch, and wonder how the fuck that happened. you would’ve honestly screamed and thought this was a squatter, or a robber, if not for all the wedding pictures obnoxiously decorating almost every available surface (god, how many photos do you need?). you try not to think too much about it – the flight was 6 hours, you barely got any sleep sitting to the smelliest man on the planet, and you just want to take a shower and go to bed. just as you start walking off, the front door swings open.

“oh my god, sweetheart, you’re home!” your mom’s voice booms through the quiet room resonating like a thunderclap in the middle of a still field. she runs to you, immediately pulling you into a hug which you happily return. you’re genuinely delighted to see her, albeit feeling a little weirded out by a man she decided to bring home. your mother looks over to the couch, man’s sleeping figure not moving once, and sighs with exasperation. “i assume he didn’t pick you up?”

“no but it’s okay…” you whisper quietly and gesture towards the figure on the couch with your head, “about that, though…”

“yeah, honey, i know, i am sorry i didn’t tell you. everything has been happening so quickly, i haven’t even had time to process it myself!” she squealed like a school girl. “his name is satoru gojo and we met at the charity event i went to six months ago.”

“since when do you attend charity events?” you ask, quirking the brow upwards.

“oh, i didn’t know what to do with myself ever since you moved out so i’ve been trying anything and everything. and look, the results have been phenomenal!” she giggled, frustration she had towards her husband about not picking you up melting away in front of your eyes. god, he really had her wrapped around his finger.

“okay, well, i am kind of tired so i wanted to go to bed. is it okay if we talk about this tomorrow?”

your mom suddenly looks down at her feet, a little embarrassed. what did she do.

“yes, about that… that room was sitting unutilized the whole time you were away so satoru and i thought it would be a good idea to remake it into a home office, kind of. your bed is still in there though! so you can sleep in the room no problem.”

“mom, what the fuck…” you whine. not only your room with all your memories and all your personality was gone and demolished, you now have to sleep in the room that was most likely used by him. “home office” my ass, you thought – your mom would not need it in a million years, and by the way she’s avoiding your gaze in shame, it was definitely not her idea.

“i’m sorry baby, but you’ve been away and…”

you interrupt her with a wave of your hand.

“whatever, i’m too tired to think about it. i’ll take a shower and go to bed, i don’t wanna deal with him until tomorrow,” you sigh with frustration and walk off into your home office, dropping your things on the floor.

what you don’t see as you walk off is the dangerous glint in satoru’s eyes as he listens to every bits of your conversation. you said the last sentence with so much poison, he thinks it might’ve struck him dead. gojo knows it will be difficult to get on your good side now but he likes to play these games on hard mode.

oh, you will be so much fun to break.

gojo satoru is a patient man – when he really wants something, he is content to wait until he gets it. that being the main reason why he approaches you slowly. it’s the next day after you arrive that he has a chance to introduce himself properly.

you leave the room after having the best night’s sleep – you really didn’t mind waking up in the office today, you must’ve been too tired to think straight and threw a fit yesterday. you make a mental note to apologize to your mom later. as you turn into the kitchen, you’re met with the view you wish did not have such a strong effect on you – your step-dad, freshly out of the shower, grey sweatpants low riding on his hips, is preparing what seems to be breakfast.

you’re so fucked.

you try to shake off the feeling of arousal washing over you. you may not have had a chance to have any sexual experiences yet, but you’re not that much of a virgin not to know when you’re feeling horny. you just wish it wasn’t due to the incredibly hot step-dad. the left-over frustration from previous night bubbles up like over spilled champagne and you decide to keep your distance. anger helps you keep yourself grounded, and you maneuver around the man to make breakfast, but you see that he prepared it for you already.

“oh, thank you,” you say quietly as he extends the plate to you.

“you’re very welcome, sweetheart.”

the nickname sends a shiver down your spine.

gojo turns to face you and gives you his breathtaking smile. you want to choke on your toast.

“i wanted to apologize for not picking you up yesterday. your mom told me so much about you, and i was excited to meet her ‘favorite girl’,” his eyes spark with a dangerous glint at the nickname, making you shrink into yourself, “but my work held me up, and then i think i went for a quick nap and… uh… ended up falling asleep,” he says with a light chuckle.

“that’s okay, i didn’t really mind the train ride,” you respond with visible discomfort,

he now stands next to you by the counter, his body heat palpable, melting over you like a scorching son. gojo’s all-teeth smile is gorgeous, frustratingly enough, but it makes your skin crawl: like a prey walking into the carefully designed trap, you can feel your gut asking you to run. it makes sense your mom fell for him so easily.

“will you let me make up for it? let’s go our for a dinner, i’m sure your mom would be delighted to hear we’re trying to get along.”

“i don’t know, i haven’t seen my friends in some time, i think i’ll be hanging out with them for a while,” you shuffle from leg to leg, trying to move away

“that’s okay, we have a whole summer ahead.”

for some reason it felt more like a threat than a promise.

you smile politely back, not knowing what to say, rushing to finish your breakfast. the image of your step-dad, half-naked in your family kitchen talking to you about his plans with you for the whole summer should be weird – it’s difficult to find it weird when the said step-dad is criminally hot, unfortunately.

“i think i’ll go now, thanks for the breakfast,” gojo’s gives you a smile so sweet, it somehow triggers a toothache, and waves you off. since yesterday, he’s been making you feel extremely on edge for no apparent reason, it’s driving you a little insane.

when you come back home that evening, you are greeted by both your mom and satoru with the dinner ready. she babbles about how great of a cook he is, and that she can’t wait until you try it. you politely decline citing that you’re full and quickly leave for your room – satoru’s blue eyes were looking at you with almost an animalistic stare, and you hated that you liked it.

gojo thought things were going well with you – he’s given you the space you need in the first two weeks after you arrived. your mom was overjoyed seeing how deeply satoru already cared about you – making sure you eat in the morning, not letting you go to bed without a meal, always checking on you throughout the day, keeping you safe. you, however, thought it was… weird, if anything, that he was all around you this intensely.

“oh, honey, that’s just how he shows that he cares. he was like that with me as well,” your mom tells you one of the nights when you bring it up. it worries you how easily she takes his side now and wonder if something else is going on.

satoru picks you up when you stay out too late, to the wee hour of the night when the subways stop running; he makes sure you have your nights with your mom, when he doesn’t intrude on your backyard conversations and only adores you pretty features from his second-floor window; he learns what movies and music and tv you like, trying to decipher the person that is you.

he’s been putting all this effort to get to know your every step – then why the fuck does he find you one night you kissing some random boy on your driveway?

you said you were going out today and no pickup was needed – now it makes sense why.

gojo satoru is a patient man. but even his patience can start running thin, trickling like water through cracks in the fingers. hourglass of his kindness has been half full for a while now – it’s about time the sand runs out.

you think a boy like him can give you what satoru can? just you wait and see.

kitchen is uncharacteristically quiet when you walk in. it’s the next morning, and usually by now, satoru would be making breakfast for you. his job is still unknown – you are not sure if he was suddenly called in but the feeling of happy solitude falls over you, even if for a moment.

your mom is gone at least for two weeks for work, you’re dreading the moment you have to be left alone with your step-dad. the look in his eyes yesterday was dangerous, a predator appraising its victim before sinking its teeth in, and you’re happy megumi was able to leave quickly after walking you home. surprisingly, gojo didn’t say you a word when you walked into the house, silently sitting in front of the tv like he didn’t just spy through the window on your kiss with the boy.

air in the room was heavy with tension – you knew satoru was avoiding looking your way, jaw clenched, hands balled into fists. instinctively, you wanted to break the silence, say something to discharge the electricity jumping through the atoms of your stuffy living room air, but ultimately decided against it. you have nothing to say to a man, and it’s not like you needed to justify your actions in front of him anyways. you quickly retreated into the office and avoided him until you fell asleep.

when you woke up to an empty apartment not even fifteen minutes ago, you felt relief. walking into the kitchen and confirming your presence alone, you even felt happy. then what is this weird feeling, almost as if you are missing something, nagging at you? you thought of going out today but now a strange desire to stay at home washes over.

you make breakfast for the first time since you came home (gojo didn’t skip a single day, you have no idea how he kept up with that), and you chastise yourself for feeling weird about cooking for yourself; and you chastise yourself again when your mind lingers on the thoughts of a certain white-haired man; and again when you look at your phone, convincing yourself it’s a bad idea to text him. god, you feel so stupid. didn’t you want him to stop being so unsettlingly sweet and dotting around you all the time?

conflicted by your irrationality once again, you frustratingly take your plate and sit down on the couch. flipping through the netlifx previews, you land on something to distract your mind by. you settle on some true crime documentary and let the horrors on the screen consume you, abandoning for a moment the thoughts plaguing your head.

you’ve been glued to the screen for at least two hours before you heard the jiggle of the keys. like an eager puppy, you waited for gojo to come inside and greet you like he would every day – only for him to completely ignore your presence, beelining straight for the kitchen. turning your head back to the tv, you try your best not to pay any attention to the uncharacteristic behavior from satoru’s end.

“i will be in the home office the whole day, don’t enter.”

before you can respond anything back, your step-dad is already walking off without sparing you a second glance. is he still upset from yesterday? you didn’t think kissing megumi would be that much of a deal. your nervously play with the hem of the blanket, show playing on tv long forgotten, contemplating what you should do next. why are you bothered by his silence this much anyways?

rethinking your earlier choice, you send a quick text to your friend asking to meet you for drinks. maybe right now gojo needs space, or whatever, and leaving him alone is the best next thing right now. you knock at the door of the home office.

“sorry, i am going out now and need to quickly change.”

not even 5 seconds pass before the door is swung open by a man that’s been occupying too much of your mental space today.

“be quick,” is the only response you get before he leaves the room and closes the door behind him. you’re perplexed by this sudden change in behavior yet again. throwing on the first decent outfit you can find, you let gojo know that you’re done and will be home later; hum is the only acknowledgment you get before he disappears in the office.

exiling all the thoughts of satoru gojo from your head, you leave your house, hoping tomorrow will put all the pieces of the puzzle back together.

yet the next day comes, and you still wake up to no warmth from satoru – it felt as if he built a wall between the two of you in one night’s span, impossible to be breached. should you talk to him? should you apologize? and apologize for what? you didn’t do anything wrong, did you? ignoring the gnawing feeling inside once more, you retreat to the living room, sulking on the couch until the end of the day, clawing onto the hope gojo of tomorrow will acknowledge your existence.

“did i do something wrong?”

you stand in the doorway to gojo’s office, arms crossed over your chest. he lazily turns his head your way as if giving you even a second of his time is too much of a bother – the look he sends you is burning through your core, making you pathetically weak and wet.

“no,” he starts slowly, “do you think you did something wrong?”

“i don’t know! that’s why i’m asking. you’ve been ignoring me for the past week, and it’s getting weird.”

“i thought i’d leave you alone, it seems you’re capable of having fun on your own.”

satoru is looking back to his screen now, and you scrunch your eyebrows, frustrated by the riddles he’s throwing your way. walking inside the room, your close the door on instinct and take wide steps to stand in front of him.

“stop answering me like this, we’re not playing a charade. what do you mean?” the demand in your voice is clear, and it twists something inside satoru – his gaze falls on you again yet this time it’s dark, taunting, dangerous, with a hint of chaos. it scares and excites you.

gojo suddenly stands up, and pushes you into his desk until you’re sitting on it. he is tall – your mom basically married a giant – and you try to curl into yourself to escape his malicious eyes.

“what, i thought you wanted me to leave your alone? you want my attention now all of a sudden?” he respond with the question of his own in a mocking tone.

“i never said i wanted you to ignore me…” you answer meekly, yelping slightly as your back hits his desk – you suddenly realize there is nowhere to run now.

“really? we’ve been together in a house for almost a month now, and yet you showed no interest in getting to know me.”

“’m sorry…” you cannot think of anything else to say. gojo moves even closer, and is now towering over you – it makes you embarrassingly horny.

“show me how sorry you are.”

before you can respond, he is caging your body with his and capturing your lips in a kiss, and you freeze – all of this is so wrong, you cannot bring yourself to start moving your mouth against his. gojo’s tongue coerces its way inside, exploring the undiscovered paths, his teeth biting your still lips. closing your eyes, you whimper and try to push him away but he only catches your wrists with his one hand, while the other plays with the hem of your shorts. a gasp escapes your lips, and you push yourself further into the desk, squirming under gojo’s body.

“what, you don’t like it? i thought my little girl wanted daddy’s attention?” he torments you, voice condescending and thick with mockery. all you can muster is a pathetic mewl, words lost somewhere inside your throat, and dig your fingers into the edge of your desk as your step-dad forces his digits inside your panties, lightly brushing against your clit.

“god, you’re already so wet, so filthy,” he whispers between the heated kisses as the pads of his fingers keep teasing your pussy. “tell me, babygirl, are you still a virgin? gotta know how to treat you.”

“y-yes…”

“well, am i just not the luckiest?” gojo chuckles darkly, spreading your legs with his thigh. unoccupied hand goes to grip your hip while the fingers on the other are still working your clit, sliding the digits between your puffy lips, teasing your hole. every time he circles around the entrance and mocks by pushing his finger just slightly inside, the moan builds up in your throat, and you’re too embarrassed to let it out.

“common, baby, your daddy wants to hear you, don’t hide your pretty voice from me.”

gojo is infuriatingly good with his fingers – you could never bring yourself this much pleasure from playing with your clit, and your defiance starts melting away as you find yourself bucking your hips into his hand, whining pitifully. the man completely removes your shorts and underwear, shoving the latter into his pocket – something to remember this moment by.

“god, such a pretty pussy, i can’t believe you’ve been hiding it from me. take off your shirt so i can see all of you, princess.”

immense desire pools between your legs, hunger and lust evident in satoru’s cerulean eyes, now hidden by dilated pupils, and you’re surrendering yourself to him – want makes you delirious, completely erasing your sense of right and wrong. you remove the top, nipples perked and waiting. gojo looks at you in wonder and disbelief – all of that for him? his hand went to squeeze your boob almost on an instinct, rolling the nipple between the pads of his fingers, while sucking on another with his mouth. you drop your head back, losing yourself to the intense pleasure your step-dad’s giving you. seeing as you’re distracted by him playing with your tits, he takes this as his chance to shove two of his fingers inside.

a strangled moan leaves your lips, your hands gripping man’s shoulders.

“ahhh, that hurts, satoru.”

“nah-uh, that’s not what i want to hear you calling me,” he straightens himself and starts scissoring you with his digits. the initial intrusion is painful, you can feel your virgin walls stretching to accommodate for how he’s dragging the fingers in and out, yet the burn is woefully delightful, and you’re getting lost again.

“’m sorry daddy.”

gojo only chuckles – god, you were easier than he expected, so well-behaved and pliable under him.

“that’s right, let daddy take good care of you.”

he speeds up the pace, curling his slender, pretty fingers, brushing the spots you were never able to reach with your own. wet, soggy sounds fill the entirety of the room, air already stuffy with smell of sex as he continues to finger-fuck your pussy. gojo could feel his cock twitching in his pants, he wanted to take you right there and then, but he was determined to make you cum on his digits first – it prompts him to attach his lips to your neck, sucking on the sensitive spot below your jawline, marking you as his.

your mewling turns louder, breathing is getting labored, and it seems your hips have a mind of their own now as they are bucking into satoru’s movements, fucking yourself how you need it. something akin to orgasm starts building up in your tummy – it has never felt this all-consuming, you wonder if you’ve been touching yourself wrong all this time.

“daddy, please don’t – ah! – stop,” is everything you can say in a measly attempt to ask him to speed up. his thumb finds your neglected clit, rubbing tight circles around your bundle of nerves, and picks up the pace, cunt now clenching even tighter around his two fingers, and gojo groans thinking how you’d feel around his aching dick. he adds a third finger – it’s angled so perfectly assault your special spongy spot, it turns your brain into a mush.

gojo pinches your nipple, kissing you to swallow all the lewd moans to himself.

“is my princess close?”

“yes daddy, ‘m so close.”

“common, cum all over my fingers, baby.”

these words finally push you over the edge – your climax washes over you like a cold morning shower, leaving you trembling in gojo’s hold. your legs are trying to close to stop the man from continuing his abuse on your twitching pussy but he is too lost in the feeling of your walls constricting around his fingers to allow you to do that. he fucks you through your orgasm, bringing you to the realm of overstimulation.

“ahh, daddy, please, it hurts now,” you whine with teary voice, beads of salty water gathering in the corners of your eyes.

“shhhh, daddy knows best, yeah? let me feel you a little longer.”

gojo keeps his pace until you’re clawing at his arm, trying to pull away your pussy from his fingers. he grabs you by the back of your head, bruising your lips with the intensity of his kiss – you’re sure he draws blood by how he bites your lower lip, licking the messy aftermath. you’re still whining and mewling, trails of tears finally flowing down your face, and he’s sure he’s never seen anything hotter as he licks the salty tracks.

“you’ve done so good, babygirl, i think you’re ready for the main gift,” satoru says and finally withdraws his fingers. the emptiness is welcoming yet disappointing, and you groan. gojo quickly unbuckles his pants and shoves them down, alongside his boxer briefs, and you almost choke on your spit when you see how well-endowed he is. you don’t have a lot to compare it to but you think his cock is beautiful – it's long and slender, and uncut, prominent vein running all the way from the base to just underside of his head, and you get an immeasurable desire to run your tongue along it.

“is my pretty doll drooling jus’ at the sight of my dick?” he mockingly asks you, making you turn your gaze away. gojo chuckles again, and grabs you by your chin, pulling your head down.

“no looking away, darling, i want you to see how i take your virginity.”

with no other option, you keep your gaze peeled downwards, to where gojo strokes himself couple of times before lining himself up with your leaking hole. despite all the preparation and your previous orgasm, you’re still incredibly tight and satoru groans as he starts pushing himself inside. you can see his smooth cockhead bullying his way into you, stretching your greedy walls – man feels you pulsating around him, and that makes him twitch.

“fuck, princess, you’re so tight, feels so good.”

gojo finally sinks all the way in, your cervix being met in a kiss by a swollen tip, and you moan, sound almost pornographic. your step-dad doesn’t let you adjust before he pulls out almost all the way before sliding back in – he doesn’t go easy on you for your first time, setting up a brutal pace, not caring if you’re ready to take him fully yet. it stings, and you have to hold yourself on gojo’s shoulder’s as he starts fucking into you. his hands are on your hips, guiding them to meet his thrusts.

“daddy please, ‘ts too much,” you cry out but satoru is all too lost in how your gummy walls perfectly hug his swollen cock. he doesn’t respond, shutting you up by forcing his tongue into his mouth yet again, sucking on every piece of available flesh. slowly, the tension in your body melts away and gives way to a new kind of pressure – the one building up in your tummy. you’re shocked at how fast your body is able to start getting on the road to blissful ecstasy again but you’re not complaining.

“shit, are you getting close already, babygirl? i can feel your pretty pussy squeezing me again.”

“yes, sorry daddy.”

“there is nothing to be sorry about, just means your daddy’s doing a good job,” he says with a grin, keeping up the pace, rutting into your sloppy cunt. queefing sounds and slapping of skin on skin make you blush furiously yet you can’t take away your gaze from where satoru keeps burying himself inside you.

the girth of gojo’s cock is deadly – not only he’s able to reach the spongy spot almost immediately, making white spots dancing across your vision, kaleidoscope of pleasure lighting up your every nerve ending, he is also bruising your cervix just with enough pressure to make you twitch in delight. his pubic bone grinds against your puffy clit and it’s setting up fireworks against your skin, hot molten lava igniting your whole being.

your moaning becomes uncontrollable as satoru’s fucking you in an animalistic pace – he keeps splitting you open, the spread of legs is slowly growing uncomfortable.

“look how good you’re taking me, being such a good girl for me,” he’s babbling, edging himself too – he wants to feel you spasming around his cock, he cannot let himself cum before that. “gonna feel so good cumming inside, pretty. give you a cute little brother or sister, huh? what do you think? i bet you’ll look so gorgeous being pregnant with my baby.”

“no, daddy, you can’t do that…”

“hm, why? just imagine, you walking around, with my child inside your belly, all cute and swollen for me, tits full of milk. wouldn’t you want that?”

you hiccup a sob as gojo keeps dragging his heavy cock in and out of you, the vein you saw before pressing against your walls deliciously, and you feel your toes start to curl as your body chases after the second orgasm. you dig your nails into his biceps, certain to leave half moon marks on his porcelain skin, and bite your lip. in turn, he is pressing his fingers against the plum skin of your hips, marking you with bruises to remind you of this tomorrow.

“shit, i haven’t fucked your cunny for that long yet it’s already perfectly snuggled around me. i’m training it fast, huh? i’m gonna teach it to fit only me,” you can hear the grin in his voice as he says that.

gojo feels your walls tighten around him – he can see you’re teetering on the edge of climax, whining and moaning under the man, letting him completely use you – so he picks up the speed, assaulting your abused pussy. it doesn’t take longer than that for the tension in your tummy to snap, and you’re wantonly crying out satoru’s name.

“fuck, dollface, you’re squeezing me so perfectly right now. want to milk me for all i’ve got?”

you’re cock drunk, unable to respond to him, hoping your mewling will be enough for the man to see he fucked you stupid. he is not showing signs of slowing down – you can only continue whining as satoru chases after his own pleasure. he pistons his hips couple of times more, and you can feel him throbbing inside as he shoots creamy ropes of cum inside you, painting your womb white. the ring of mixed fluids at the bottom of his cock drives him insane, and he continues fucking his cum into you.

“shit baby, can’t waste a single drop now, can we.”

you’re letting out a quiet sob, pleasure too overwhelming and almost feverish, still unable to find your voice. when he deems it satisfactory that his seed is all warm inside you, gojo finally pulls out and kisses the top of your head.

“i’d say this was a good practice run, what do you say? your mom only comes back in a week, i’ll make you my personal cumdump until then.”

you snap your head up at his words, the smile playing on your step-dad’s face borderline sinister. you think it’s supposed to make you scared, then why is your pussy already twitching around nothing?

“yes daddy, anything for you.”

#꒰ྀི penned by ange ꒱ྀི #gojo smut #jjk smut #satoru gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #jjk x you #satoru gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #gojo x y/n #jjk x y/n #satoru gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x y/n

[rrking]

Teaching Astarion how to hug tho 🥺

He is so awkward, never knowing where to put his hands because you aren't a mere conquest - you're his beloved. He doesn't want to tar you with that same brush.

"Astarion, I'm freezing!" You whine, running up to him and pressing your face into his chest. Faerun is in the dead of winter, and your vampire is colder than usual. He's like a block of ice.

"Actually... I'm not sure if you're the best person to come to..." you wonder, a hint of mischief in your voice.

"N-No, no!" he panics, forcing you back against his body with an iron grip. His arms are so stiff, it feels more like a scroll of holding than a hug.

"Don't go to anybody else. I don't want to see you in the arms of anybody else..."

His admittance is cute, especially when he's so bashful about it.

"Hold me."

Astarion tries. He awkwardly pats your back and doesn't quite understand why you aren't pulling away yet. The hug is over. Isn't it?

"Put your hands on me."

Straight away, he's got them on your chest, your pert nipples peering through the fabric rather distracting...

"Not there," you huff, taking his hands and winding them around your back. He leaves them there without a word, but they're limp now.

"With some feeling. Snuggle me."

Your words just don't compute. Even when you try nuzzling into his torso. He pulls his arms a little tighter, but it's more like a rope pulling taut than a comforting hug.

"Tighter than that. Hold me like you're stopping me from falling into a muddy puddle."

He leaps into action and lifts your entire body up, spinning you playfully to where he would consider a dryer spot. It's enough to illicit giggles and smiles but as he places you back down gently, you realise he's got it. When he's lost in your eyes, pleased to hear the sweet sound of your laughing and watch the way your mouth curves...

His arms are just right, they're almost cradling you.

There is a pause.

But you snuggle yourself into him like a cat searching for a soft place to sleep, letting him hold onto that fuzzy feeling in his stomach. Astarion doesn't need to be told that this is the correct way to hug, because he can feel it.

Before long, he is surprising you with hugs and genuinely enjoying them as far as contact goes whilst he's trying to repair his relationship with sex and intimacy.

#astarion #astarion x tav #bg3 #astarion x reader #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #bg3 astarion #baldur's gate 3 #Astarion fluff #imagine

[popponn]

so what if itoshi rin happens to stop by a cafe during a downpour, expecting it to be just another dingy cafe in the basement with a drink he doesn't even enjoy. fully prepared to book it out the moment the rain stops, rin doesn't pay attention at first to the person who goes up to the stage and sits, carrying a guitar.

but then, he hears your voice at the first pluck of string and he may have fallen in love a bit at the first melody.

of course, it doesn't hit him immediately at first. it begins with him sitting in silence until you finish the last song. then it's him visiting every time he could for two weeks straight. then it's him remembering that you play every wednesday and weekend, noon and evening. then it's you recognizing him after one show and then it's him learning your name as you do his.

and if his team and big brother wonder why he grows calmer and plays many untitled recordings—given by you, made by you—he will probably punch them out of panic. but, at least he owes them for making him realize that it's a crush, actually.

(or, rin falls in love with you, your song, and more.)

#1

"...that's...you like someone...?" isagi speaks as if he is an incarnation of some demented fish. the moron even gapes like one.

rin tries his best not to reflexively throw the water bottle at hand. he would, if it isn't for a series of loud "the fuck"s and "no way"s that resound through the locker room. there is also a "bitch pay up! rinrin is in love, see?!" that suspiciously sounds like the blonde roach's voice, but honestly rin's biggest concern is his brother—who freezes like a statue and goes wide-eyed with a grace of a dying clam.

from the corner of his eyes, sae truly looks like he gets a heart attack and turns out rin still loves him enough to worry. but if the hunch that says that shitty brother is considering either giving pieces of advice or bees-and-birds talk there and then is right—rin is murdering him along with hiori yo who looks way too amused for his own good.

in the end, rin does end up throwing that bottle to isagi's face. rin revels in his pained squawk.

"i don't!" rin shouts, ignoring the creeping heat on his cheeks. for some reason he feels like he is lying but for now, he better socks sae in the face because that motherfucker looks like he is ready to speak.

#2

you sit on the rough surface of the cement stairs. as you take your guitar out of its case, a train of thought walks through your mind. a few months ago, the thought of having someone to sit here with you, enjoying the sunset while you play is a bit too farfetched.

but then rin—the guy who keeps appearing at the cafe every time you play, the guy who is cool, the good-looking guy, the guy who always listens every time you speak or play—just enters your life.

rin sits one step below your feet and looks at you so attentively that it makes you feel special. as you adjust the instrument in your hand, you wonder if it's wrong for you to fall simply because of that.

it probably is—a part of you say. but, you know that part too was the one who made you doubt yourself weeks ago, before rin shuts it up with a simple admittance of his preference to your songs.

so, like a fool, you smile—lovesick, too honest, too obviously, "hey, have i ever played a love song for you?"

rin hums, filling in the silence as he seems to try to remember something. shifting his weight to lean on his elbow, he offers you a confident answer, "few times, in the cafe."

"but never in our solo shows, right?" you place your fingers on the strings. the word 'our' comfortably resting in your sentence.

you notice how rin's eyes soften and never have you ever wished that you didn't read things wrongly this much. "yeah," rin says, the orange of the sunset decorating his face in a way that makes you realize how pretty aquamarine suits him.

"then," you hope you will have courage, one day. "that shall be our song today."

notes: this hellsite ate this so out of spite i remade everything. also out of love because rinnie is babey. but yeah—rin who falls in love with musician you. the thought of a grumpy guy who listens to acoustic ballad played by his favorite person and cooking down immediately is cute to me. so here you have it, kinda post canon, kinda no plot just coming of age vibe kinda slice of life vibe. plus the thought of chance meeting in a cafe stage is cute. yeah i just think this idea is cute and i got bored in the train. this thing is a few weeks old actually, but. yeah. anyway another blurbs for now ❤ maybe i really should make masterlist for these stuffs 🐒 after the trip myb. but yeah, honestly rin feels soft for me since long ago. esp on the inside. and the thoughts of him getting "special" "only for him" stuffs feels good after all the "sae replacement" stuffs he went thru in canon. i think he is the type who will make you feel special because he really is all in for you. okay yeah my head kinda dizzy maybe i will add something more later. shout out to ms. lau/fey and mbak yu/ra yuni/ta for the songs that play in my head, it makes it better.

#bllk imagines #drabbles #bllk x reader #bllk #blue lock #blue lock fluff #blurbs #blue lock x reader #blue lock scenarios #bllk fluff #blue lock imagines #bllk scenarios #itoshi rin x reader #rin x reader #itoshi rin fluff #ARGH but yeah this published earlier than i thought have this #maybe one day soon #im fixing tags later skdhdh

[beefboyandbabygirl]

Goodbye, Fourth of July (18+)

pairing: lee chan x fem!reader

genre: college au, best friends to lovers, angst w a happy ending, smut (MDNI!!), hints of crack?

description: it's the fourth of july when you realize you're in love with your best friend. unfortunately though, it seems that he doesnt love you back, and this knowledge sends you spiraling. you push him away, but chan just wants to know why you're so upset

warnings: v v sad, pining, brief mention of s/a, chan is kinda dumb in this fr, reader is dramatic af tho, unprotected sex, desperation, praise kink, finger sucking, titty sucking, use of petnames (baby, pretty girl, sweet heart, good girl, cumslut once), mentions of alcohol and weed, irene is chans gf in this but shes not a villain shes mother fr

quotes from my proofreader: "my soul left my body", "no this is too personal", "i feel like im having a panic attack"

wordcount: 8.2k

Fireworks exploded across the sky the night your life was ruined. 

Down the gray, dim corridors of your campus where room after room was ablaze with idle lights, daring to imitate the stars above them. Every crevice of the left wing was filled with the noise and decorum of a college frat party, where people lived out their own lives simultaneously to yours - yours, that was shattering into millions of pieces onto Yoon Jeonghan’s kitchen floor. Every moment of teasing, of lingering touches, of adoring smiles, of secret memories and exchanged glances came hurdling onto you on the 4th of July, red solo cup long forgotten in your hand. You were in love with your best friend. 

“I’m in love with Chan,” you whispered, looking blankly across the room to see him leaned back against the couch, flashing a bright smile at Mingyu beside him. His blonde mullet - the one, that he had been so terrified to get, and only did so, when you told him he would look great - was tousled and spiky across his neck. He was wearing a red bomber jacket over a white tee, and he looked so good you thought you might cry. 

Soonyoung wouldn’t have heard your confession - was it a confession? Admittance? Defeat? - had he not been standing right beside you. He thanked God that your words were not lost to the music and to the ambiance, to lay and die in the sticky, hardwood floor. “What?!”

He was yelling over the music. You turned over to him, mouth cracked into a frown. “What?! You’re in love with Chan?! Seriously?!” He started bouncing and giggling, ignoring your hands coming to grab onto his forearms. He had predicted this exactly five months ago. 

“Shut up, Soonyoung, seriously!” You were yelling too, barely overcoming the booming voice of Kesha on the speakers. Bathed in pink light, letting your nails trail over the kitchen counter, you felt your heart becoming soft and trembling.

Your life was ruined. 

“What the fuck am I gonna do?” you cried, feeling Soonyoung spin you at your shoulders until he was right in front of you, alcohol dampening the air between you.

“What do you mean? You’re gonna confess to him. You guys are literally in love with each other” He said it as if it was the easiest thing in the world. As if you hadn’t been best friends since freshman year; as if you didn’t know his favorite animal cracker shape and the exact model of his everyday sneakers. 

“I can’t do that.” 

“Yes, you can.” 

“I can?” 

“COMINGGG THROUGHHHHHHHH!” Frat-house dork Seokmin pushed between you and Soonyoung with a sky-high Vernon on his trail. Vernon shimmied apologetically, eyes sunken and red. “Getting cross-faded,” he supplied helpfully. 

“As you should,” Soonyoung mumbled, slightly peeved in his tone, but Seokmin and Vernon seemed too intensely high to notice his disdain. You were too floaty to be offended by their sudden intrusion. The party, the floor, the music, the stench of sweat had become distant and you felt very alone with your heart. And Kwon Soonyoung, of course.

“You can! Right now! I’ve been telling you for months!” He shook you by your shoulders, apparently sensing your distance. You looked up at him with furrowed brows, tugging at the strapless end of your short, glittery dress. “But he’s-” you inhaled sharply. “He’s not gonna love me back, Soon.” Soonyoung cut you off with a scoff. “He’s so in love with you! He looks at you like you’re the only girl in the…” 

Soonyoung trailed off, eyes peering past you into the crowd. “Oh shit,” His eyes widened, settled on you, then flicked back up. What the fuck was he looking at? “Uh, as I was-” you moved to look, struggling against his suddenly deadly grip on your shoulders “- no, don’t look!” He moved to stop you, but it was too late. You scanned the crowd with narrowed eyes, finding yourself confused as to what he’d been crying about. That is until you saw him. Red bomber now discarded, Chan had removed himself from the couch and was currently grinding on your biochem-classmate, Irene. 

Oh. Okay. 

You felt like cold hands grabbed onto your throat from within, as it contracted and tears stung your eyes. There it went, your heart and all its pieces on the floor, and weighing you down like an anchor, was the knowledge that you’d spend the rest of your life picking them up. 

”God fucking damnit. This is awful, I’m awful,” your head was spinning, and you could barely make out how your fishnetted legs started moving, let alone how the tips of Soonyoung’s fingers brushed against your bare back to pull you back to him. You needed to get out. Out, out, out. 

You squeezed through the tight crowd, avoiding the gaze of your classmate Seungcheol, who tried to smile at you from where he stood. This had to be some sort of mistake. Some sort of illusion brought upon you by the rhythmic movements and the loose slip of alcohol. Maybe you were hormonal? You didn’t know, but you couldn’t think while some bass-boosted playlist built dams of pressure on the sides of your head.

You finally squeezed through the door, closing it behind you and locking away that cursed, wretched memory. The further you got, the fainter the image of him. By the time you were slipping out of the hallway and into the yard, you could almost convince yourself that it was a mistake. A foolish moment, that you would tuck away and keep in a locked chest. 

God, you were cold, shivering in your scrappy fabrics, as you slid down the brick wall by a flower bed, staring into the sky. It was the fourth of July, and your chest had exploded in fireworks while looking at your best friend. Every line had simultaneously been crossed and uncrossed. 

You had realized it just a few minutes ago, just standing in the kitchen, when Wonwoo from history had asked you for a lighter. It had just been a graze, but you’d still felt it, in the faraway reaches of your purse. Amongst crumbs, concealer, a couple unraveled cigarettes and wired earphones with only one working side. What was that? You’d handed Wonwoo the lighter and then dug around for it again. A little slip of paper, edges soft and worn. You pulled it up. 

It was just a drawing. A little scribbled dinosaur. God, you couldn’t even remember when he’d given it to you. But there you were smiling at it. And then looking at him. And then you knew. 

You started crying. Hot, fat tears dripped down your cheeks, and your lips were trembling, and suddenly your body was stuttering and convulsing against the wall, and you were in love with your best friend and he was obviously not in love with you. 

“Y/n?” 

You snapped your head towards the door and the person you wanted to see the least in that moment (that thought made you cry even more, because when had you ever wanted anyone but him by your side when you were upset?) was peeking his blonde haired head through the door. Chan had such a heavy frown, looking down at you from the wide opened doorway. 

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong, sweetheart?” He was immediately crouching down, hand burning hot on your back, stroking the muscles. Another hand on your knee and it was all too much, so you pushed him away. He backed off immediately, and you wished you missed the flash of hurt on his face. He looked at you with so much worry. “What happened?” 

He was sitting across from you on the pavement and you couldn’t bear to see him, lit geometrically by the moonlight and the explosions in the sky, brows creased. Averting your eyes, you fiddled with the edge of your dress and sniffled. What were you supposed to say? It was hard to say anything. You fought down the tears pressing at your eyes again, swallowing your emotions before you looked at him again, almost robotically.

“I’m fine,” you said, nodding, and only adding more when his face twisted in confusion. You were always honest with each other, he thought, why were you lying? “It’s stupid, I’m.. I’m on my period and my hormones are just.. Bleugh.” You found it in yourself to giggle.

Silence, only decorated with the constant stream of fireworks and distant laughter of drunk college kids. Chan studied you for a moment, legs crossed and arms slung over his knees. “Cheol said you looked upset.” 

“Yeah, I, uh, I was thinking of that sad dog movie.” 

Another pause. “Old Yeller.” 

The distance between you had never felt wider and you were certain Chan could feel it too. 

“You know you can tell me anything right?” You wished your laughter hadn’t been so heart-achingly bitter. He looked so confused. All he wanted to do was make you feel alright, why wouldn’t you let him?

A nod. “Yeah,” you breathed in deeply, tear-streaked makeup drying from the gentle wind. “I know.” 

The air had become so thick, you had to gulp down breaths. Chan cocked his head to the side and looked at you soulfully. You were staring at your knees, nervously playing with your fingers, and a flush had crept up your neck to the very tops of your shiny cheeks. He sighed. “I can get, uh,” he hesitated for a moment, “I can get Soonyoung down here. If you want.” You nodded before he was even done talking. Anything was better than sitting across from him - not now. This time you knew better than to look at his face, because you knew your entire facade would break down the moment you’d catch the frown on his face at those words. 

The moment Chan left, you sighed so deeply, relief and despair coming in a pair to crash over you like a wave. Soonyoung came not two minutes later and, ever the great comforter, immediately tried to make you laugh, sitting in the grass right in front of you.

“Oh my god,” he put on his best Jennifer Coolidge voice, “you look like the fourth of July!” _____________________________

Your first instinct was to hide - to turn over a stone and lay under it without breathing. Maybe then, if you separated yourself from him the feelings would simply dissipate, like perfume throughout the day. But you and Chan had a ridiculous amount of classes together, - something you used to enjoy and cherish - and every interaction had become half-awkward. 

What also didn’t help is that him and Irene did not seem to just be a party fling. You were walking the halls with him, backpack slung across your shoulder, and listening to him drone on and on about a date.

“I think it’s the blonde,” he explained, “I think she likes the blond.” He peeked his eyes over to you, as you walked and you nodded. “It looks good,” you smiled, heart crushing when his face lit up, that sharky smile playing on his lips. “Right? But I don’t know what to wear. I don’t think she liked my jacket. You know, at the party.” At the mention of the party, his giddy expression faded a little, eyes flicking back to look at you again.

You’d been different since then. A little quiet and every word a little strained, every breath a huff, every smile somewhat unable to reach your eyes. He knew something was wrong, but he couldn't figure out what. For the life of him, Chan couldn’t. You’d told him when you got a tampon stuck a couple months ago, you’d told him about your awful dates, about your most embarrassing moments in your life. Something had to be serious, he thought, watching the way your eyes had become darker and sunken, for you to shut him out completely.

“Y/n,” he said and his voice was abruptly so, so soft. His hand came to cradle your own, stopping you in your tracks. Your eyebrows cinched together when you looked at the way his thumb caressed your knuckles. “You are okay, right?” and all of a sudden he was so close to you, head bopping downwards to catch your eyes, a little breath becoming humid on your cheek. For just a split second, he saw how scared you were, an emotion that took up all the space in your head, widened eyes darting up to his. Then it was gone. You smiled a tight line, ripping your hand from his. “I’m good. I’d be better if we actually made it to class on time.” 

You were bouncing away and for a few moments he stood still, watching you. 

“Alright,” he whispered to himself.

_____________________________

 You and Chan met through Seungcheol. It was your first year and you were fresh-faced, young and a totally different person. It was your first biochem project and the teacher had paired you with Seungcheol - Seungcheol, who you just so happened to know was amongst the most popular guys at school. He was sweet though, if not a little slow, but he was excited to get into the project and had invited you to his place to study. You had graciously accepted, seeing as your roommate-situation at the time was less than ideal. 

You had just hunkered down with stacks of books and laptops open on his desk, when Seungcheol got a call; to this day you’re not sure about the specifics of it, and all the information you’d later been able to pry from Seungcheol was that “Jeonghan was in trouble”. Whatever the case, the man had taken the phone and immediately taken on a crease in his forehead and a small frown on his lips, before apologizing profusely and promising that he’d be back in 20 minutes or so. 

And there you were, wearing a dress and hairclips and sitting idly at his desk, while his roommate sat, just a few feet from you, on his bed with a controller and a headset on. That was the first time you saw Lee Chan. He had sharp eyes that you found intimidating at the time - especially with the focused grimace he wore, something you later found endearing. And, of course, you knew he was popular as well. How couldn’t he be, when his muscles were showing through his t-shirt, and he looked beautiful even in the domestic state you found him in. Maybe especially in that situation. 

“D’you wanna see me play?” he’d asked, eyes not even leaving the screen. “Um,” your voice was meek, “sure.” 

Seungcheol didn’t come home for another three hours. The sky turned from a bright blue into an orange hue outside the campus-curtains, and you sat cross-legged beside Chan on his bed, watching him play Overwatch. Had it been anyone else, you were sure this would’ve been the longest, most awkward three hours of your life. But for whatever reason, you and Chan just clicked. It was all laughter and smiles, and it felt like you had known each other forever. Fate had whisked the two of you together with a gentle push. That was two years ago. 

Chan defied all your expectations. Surely, a young man who was attractive and popular would be an asshole, you’d thought, but he was so sweet, something that was most apparent when he smiled and laughed, eyes becoming crescents and toothy grin becoming sharp at the upturned edges. 

Maybe you’d always liked him. You’d started reflecting on your relationship after that party, and came to realize that there’d always been a faint mist in your chest. A soft hum that drummed within your ribcage, when you saw him. It was warm, pleasant and constant when you felt his warmth at your side. 

And sure, your relationship had had its moments. You distinctly remembered sitting between his legs while watching a movie once, and how you’d been so uncertain if he was okay with the skinship. His face behind your ear, you heard the smile in his voice, as his hands ran along your arms: “It’s okay, N/n. I’m cool with this if you are.”

You found yourself thinking about that often, but now there was a distinct pain to the memory. It was especially painful, when the gap between you and Chan was widening with every day. He tried to reach out, tried to catch you in the halls, but you were always “busy”. 

Chan caught on to the fact that you were avoiding him when you started showing up late to classes, just so you wouldn’t have to walk with him; hear him talk about Irene, while that once soft drum had become a marching band in your chest. So you scrambled inside 5 minutes late, much to the dismay of your professors, and found a spot with some random classmate - far away from Chan. You’d have your eyes turned to the board, but you couldn’t focus, not really. Like a constant thorn in your side, you felt Chan’s sharp eyes across the room, boring into with such an intensity you thought you might catch on fire. Scribbling useless notes and focusing your energy - what little energy you had - on the class, you determinedly avoid his eyes. Had you seen them, never once darting astray from your form, you’d see the tenderness they held. “Why are you avoiding me?” His eyes said. 

And then: “Why are you avoiding me?” his mouth said, out of breath from chasing after you in your hurried exit. You turned to him, almost bleeding into the blue of the accented-wallpaper. His eyes softened at your wounded expression. You were gently ripping apart at the wish to see him and be around him, with simultaneous urge to ignore him and become free from his scrutinizing gaze. He would never not know that something was wrong.

He scanned the crowded hallway, and gently, almost as if testing the waters (which he hadn’t felt the need to do in years) placed a hand on your upper arm. “Come on.” 

You gave in. God, it was so easy to give in. You missed him. You missed him like a fish might miss water, had it been taken away from it. You missed him like a priest misses God, when his presence ebbs away and the sky is suddenly so very empty. So it was so easy to be led on, to sit down in the passenger of his car and just close your eyes and enjoy how it felt to be beside him. Chan scanned you as he drove, laying there with closed eyes, willing yourself to not look at him again, and realize you had to throw this all away. 

He said nothing that entire car ride. Maybe he sensed the desperate need you felt to just have this silence. You clung to it as if it were tangible, as if someone would take it away. He would, once you entered his apartment. Seungcheol was nowhere to be seen. You placed yourself on bed and played with the fraying edges of his IKEA duvet cover.

“I miss you.” he said. You sighed, pursing your lips and looking at your fingers. “I miss you too.” 

“You’re avoiding me,” he said, only a faceless presence in your peripheral. 

“I’m not avoiding y-...” you trailed off when he crouched down in front of you, your entire vision cursed (or blessed?) with his frustrated face. “You are,” he said, eyes boring into yours. You trembled. “I’m not, I’m just busy.” He backed away, sulking, and you tried not to make it obvious that you heaved in a shaky breath from the proximity.  “I can tell when you’re lying, you know?” 

You laid down on the bed, arms crossing over your chest as if you were a corpse. Was there a way out of this, you wondered. Every glance, every touch, and every word that dropped from his mouth poked and prodded at you sadistically. 

“I’m not lying.” 

You heard fumbling and raised your head to see Chan, having discarded his shirt, putting on a new one and you cringed at how your heart sped up, seeing his toned stomach, before it disappeared under a sweater. “What are you doing?” you asked. He sighed. He glanced at you before studying himself in the full-length mirror Seungcheol had stolen from Mingyu. 

“I’m going on a date with Irene in, like, twenty minutes.” 

A pause. You sat up.

“Oh.” 

He went on, throwing around scattered clothes and grappling for a cologne in his bag. “I’m sorry, I can’t cancel this, I don’t think she’ll really appreciate it,” he laughed a little. Throwing his head over his shoulder, his smile faded when he sensed your sorrow. His heart hurt then, so he moved, freshly spritzed with the cologne you bought him last Christmas, to stand in front of you on the bed. Your breath hitched when his hand found your cheek and he was suddenly dripping with sincerity and an emotion you really hoped wasn’t pity. “I just- I really wanted to talk to you, Y/n. I’m really worried about you.” You leaned into his hand pathetically, almost whimpering against it. You missed how his embrace felt. His thumb brushed over your cheek and he lingered there, eyes trained on you for just a moment - perhaps a moment too long - before he pulled away.

Suddenly he was putting on a jacket and ruffling his hair in the mirror again. “If you want you can stay here until I come back? It’ll only be, like, an hour and a half, two hours. Cheol will be home soon, he can keep you company.” 

“Yeah, maybe,” your eyes were huge, when you willed yourself to stare at the floor. Chan must’ve sensed the meekness in your voice, because he looked over at you through the mirror, a frown on his lips. “I promise we’ll talk, I just- I don’t wanna disappoint Irene.” 

It ached when you responded: “There’s nothing to talk about, Channie. I’m fine.” 

“I’ll see you in a couple of hours?” you only nodded half-heartedly. 

“Bye, N/n.” 

“Bye, Channie.” 

He left with a rustle of his keys, and when the door was closed, your body contracted, muscles pulling inwards until you were hugging your knees in his sheets. And you were crying because it smelled like him, and because he had held your cheek with such care, only to leave moments later for another woman. Everything you held dear, every moment you lingered on was just one-sided. Your tears were crystalline confinements for your most treasured memories with him and you were bleeding out on his bed, sliced in the heart.

It was Seungcheol who found you there like that, curling up in his roommate’s bed with painful sobs squeezing your whole body. You told him. Maybe you shouldn’t have, but you did. “I love him,” you cried, and Seungcheol stroked your back, as he listened. “And he doesn’t love me back.” 

You apologized abashedly when you had calmed down, but Seungcheol only tutted and shook his head. “That’s what friends are for,” he’d said and patted your hair, and you giggled even though you felt all silly with your red face and your puffy eyes. The older man promised not to say anything, and you found yourself trusting him completely. You bid your goodbyes and felt a little lighter.

When Chan came home a heavy duvet of regret settled in his stomach. You were gone, only the faint mist of your perfume left behind in his room. When night fell, he slept on a bed stained with your tears. _____________________________

A week passed and you spent every moment alone in your dorm room, ignoring papers and deadlines in favor of lying completely still under the covers. Soonyoung came over with food every once in a while, and always left devastated at how completely disarranged you were. He felt powerless and if there was one thing Kwon Soonyoung didn’t like, it was feeling powerless.

That was how you found yourself in a very John Mulaney-like situation on a monday afternoon, sitting before Soonyoung and, surprisingly, Seungkwan, Soonyoung’s roommate, in a nearby café. 

“What is this?” you asked, arms crossed and leaned back in your seat, unimpressed. Soonyoung smiled sheepishly, sliding a paper across the table. It read “Intervention” in big, bubbly letters, colored with cheap highlighters. “An intervention?” you said incredulously. 

“Yes, we’re worried about you!”

“He’s worried about you. I’m skipping physics for this,” Seungkwan butted in.

“The community is worried about you,” Soonyoung gave a harsh glare to the younger boy, who was mirroring your distaste for the current situation. “So we’re hosting an intervention.” 

“This is bullshit,” you said. “Agreed,” came Seungkwan. 

“Alright, you two! Let Daddy explain,” Hoshi waved his arms in outrage and the two of you groaned at the word choice. “Y/n. I am sick and tired of watching you cry and cry and sit at home over a boy who is fricken’ in love with you!”

“Did you just say ‘fricken’?” 

“Unimportant. The point is get your act together and tell him or get over him!” Soonyoung was determined. While you felt his point of view was certainly unfair to you, your demeanor gave way a little. He was right, you knew. This was ruining you more than you’d care to admit. “You are worth so much more than this.” 

“As much as I hate to contribute to this, Soonyoung has been telling me all about.. Your situation, and I have to say I agree. I thought you and Chan were dating until Soonyoung told me this,” Seungkwan said, smiling sympathetically at you. You frowned. “It doesn’t matter what you guys think, you know. He doesn’t see me like that.. It just fucking hurts.” 

“If he doesn’t see you like that, then fuck him--”

“Don’t say that, Soonyoung--” 

“You need to put your energy into a man who will know your worth!” Soonyoung sassed and Seungkwan snapped his fingers once for emphasis, face totally blank.

“I know you’re right, okay?” you reasoned, sighing. “It’s not as simple as that. I know you want to help, Soonyoung, but.. I just need time.” 

Soonyoung deflated, but he understood. I guess he was a little powerless in this situation. Even Seungkwan, who definitely was not thrilled about missing physics, smiled sorely. You watched them and hated yourself for bringing worry to everyone around. Like an oil spill in the ocean, your black mass infected everything around you. They’d done nothing and here you were, parading your sadness like My Chemical Romance in 2006. 

“Thank you anyway.”  _____________________________

Chan was theorizing. There were only so many things that could happen so suddenly, that could make you push him away like this. He hadn’t seen you in a week and he’d begun biting his nails again. Every waking moment had become consumed with this question: why? Why were you acting like this? Irene would pointedly comment on how quiet he was being, and his lies came like flowing water. 

Chan was certain that he’d never experienced anything harder than watching you unravel everyday. Every morning more disheveled than the last, every smile more dull. Let me help you, he’d think, watching you slump in your seat on the other side of the room, running an unsteady hand over your face. You’d even found a way to avoid him after class. Day after day he’d run after you when you sped out of class, and when he reached the hallway where students were pouring out, you’d be gone like a faint ghost. 

Irene ended things with him over a text. “I just don’t see us working out anymore,” it’d read and lying in his room he’d sighed quietly. He couldn’t bring himself to care. The text diverted his attention for only a minute, before he was staring at the ceiling again, thinking of you. It had to have something to do with him somehow. But no matter how much he scrutinized every interaction you’d had, he came up blank. 

“Are you okay?” It was Seungcheol, standing in the doorway and hanging his jacket on their clothing rack while eyeing him. He’d hardly heard him come in. Chan heaved a sigh, long lines of worry oozing out of him. 

“Y/n’s been acting really weird with me. I can’t figure out if it’s something I did,” Chan squeezed his eyes shut. “I just want her to be okay.” 

Seungcheol frowned sympathetically. “Maybe you should just leave her alone.” Chan’s eyes sprung open and he grimaced, before ruffling the sheets where he sat up on the bed. Seungcheol was settling himself onto his bed, phone in hand and head against the headboard. “Why are you saying that?” 

For a moment, Seungcheol flashed his brown eyes with a hint of ‘oh shit’ in them, before they relaxed and he regained composure. “I don’t know, maybe she just needs some time away from you.” 

A pause swallowed the room. Chan studied his friend with furrowed brows. “Did she talk to you?” 

“Uh-” 

“You know why she’s acting like this!” Chan raised his voice, weeks of frustration crackling in the pit of his stomach. He stood up, so he could tower over Seungcheol’s bed. “Relax, man, I don’t know anything-” 

“You do! Tell me what’s going on, Seungcheol-” Only a few words had been shared, but they’d tugged at the right strings, and suddenly Chan’s muscles were tightened as they buried into Seungcheol’s collar. The older man scowled and wrapped his hands around his roommate’s wrists in warning. Chan’s hold untightened and unscrewed and he slumped in on himself like a piece of paper, “please, Seungcheol, please. I’m going crazy.” 

Seungcheol’s gaze softened. He pushed the boy’s hands away and sat up on the bed, voice a low, solemn grumble. “I can’t tell you.” 

“Fucking please, Seungcheol. What if something happened to her? At that party. I keep thinking about it, how I wasn’t with her, and what if some asshole harassed her or something. I googled it and Google said women can feel lost, lonely and embarrassed over stuff like that,” Chan started pacing. “And then I was thinking what if it was a friend of ours? And maybe that’s why she doesn’t want to tell me, but, of course, I’d support her in anything she told me.” 

Chan stilled in his wandering across the narrow floorspace. “Can you at least tell me she’s okay?” 

All sharp eyes and blonde hair and panted breaths Chan stood in the middle of the room and waited for Seungcheol to tell him that you were okay. Chan would’ve even been at peace with Seungcheol telling him that you never wanted to see him again, fuck, as long as you were fine and you still laughed and smiled, even if it was with Soonyoung and not him.

But the answer didn’t come. Seungcheol frowned and fiddled with his watch. “I don’t think so, man.” 

Whatever ties had held Chan back before snapped. He stood still for maybe three seconds in the unlit room, before his body burst into action and he was scrambling for his jacket and keys.

“Fuck this.” 

Sprinting down monotonous corridors, a hard-headed Chan let wisps of blonde hair flow behind as the air kissed his cheeks. He wore the crease in his brow that had become permanently etched onto his features. Chan had a one track mind; maybe that’s why things didn’t - wouldn’t - work out with Irene. Currently, the record spinning was you and he’d gone damn near insane, so this time he’d made up his mind. He was not leaving until you talked to him. Whisking past door after door in the quiet nighttime, catching Wonwoo exiting some random dorm and smiling sheepishly, he ignored him and braved forward. 

It was not until he was standing right in front of your door that he hesitated. The door framed his figure entirely, trapping him within its confines. What if Seungcheol was right? What if he was making things worse? 

But for Chan, he wasn’t sure that he could go any lower. Every day had become a new rock bottom, every day that you avoided him, every moment wondering what he could have possibly done. He missed your smile. So then he was knocking at your door.

“Fuck off, Soonyoung, I’m not going to anymore interventions!” you yelled, voice hoarse from beyond the door. Intervention? Had you developed a drug problem? He knocked again and heard you groan, before heavy footsteps thumped towards him. 

“What do you want, Soonyo-” you paused, door half-creaked open. Your eyes were two moons, and your nose and cheeks were red. “Chan,” you breathed, voice nasally from a stuffy nose. Chan said nothing, only pushed past you to get inside. You sniffled.

Your heart was a bomb, or maybe a firework. Chan had lit the fuse and standing before him, where he was half lit in the middle of your room, you knew it was only a matter of time before it exploded, chest blazing with a parade of colors for the fourth of July. Because it was him, a greek fucking god in your toy-decorated room, in his sweatpants and a white t-shirt, and it was you, wimpish and thoroughly out of order, in pyjama shorts and a pink sweater. 

“Come. Here.” He wasn’t asking. You nodded and took two steps, and the moment you were within arms reach he enveloped you in his chest. His arms were so strong and warm, one wrapping around your waist and the other bunching up your hair to keep you pressed into him. Your cheek bunched up against his heart, you closed your eyes and heard how fast it was beating. He was scared. 

“Talk to me,” you could hear it, too, the fear. His voice was trembling and even though you couldn’t see his face you could imagine his brown eyes glazed over and lips in a pout. The thought squeezed at your heart. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. He squeezed his eyes shut at the raspiness in your voice. “Don’t be, just talk to me. Please,” his voice was a wavering breath. He pulled away, head ducking down to peer into your eyes. Your cheeks burned and you looked away, becoming completely enamored with the white of his shirt, just for the sake of not seeing his eyes. Then both his hands were on your cheeks, a little harsh at first, but then softening. “Look at me.” 

He leaned closer, one hand straying from your cheek to hold you by the back of the head. “Look. At. Me.” he gritted his teeth and you felt the warmth of his face hitting yours. You did. You looked at him, saw him again, really, the guy you’d been avoiding and simultaneously praying closer to you standing before you like a kicked puppy. Suddenly you were crying. It felt like he’d turned you inside out. 

“No, no, no, don’t cry, pretty, talk to me, talk to Channie, okay?” he frowned before he was pushing your face closer, nosing your cheek and hair, just a big baby in front of you, with hot and humid breaths on your freshly wetted skin when his lips brushed over it. His hand on the back of your head was only urging you closer, and his back was hunched in a long arch just so he could be with you, as close to you as possible. 

And while his touch was bliss for a moment, the reality of it came crashing down, and your hands waved him off, taking a step back, which Chan followed with a step forward. He looked so hurt, hands held out for you to take but you shook your head.

“Don’t- Don’t do this to me, Chan. Not when-” you were shaking when you reached up to rub over your eyes. “Not when- Not when you have Irene to go back to.” 

“Irene?” He asked incredulously, almost in outrage, almost as if the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. It spurred you on. “That’s what this is about?” 

“No!” you cried, “Or- yes, I don’t know.” 

Chan was silent for a few moments when you began pacing, hands over your eyes. “You were jealous?” 

“No- That’s not the point!” your lip trembled when you removed your hands and looked at him again, his arms at his sides, now that he didn’t have you to hold.

“We were never going to stop being friends, you know-” his voice was quiet and yours overpowered his easily, when you screamed at him to say: “I didn’t want to be friends!” 

Boom goes the dynamite, indeed. Fireworks filled every crevice of your ribcage.

“Because I love you,” you paused only to flick your eyes over to his, and you sucked in the fear. Your voice shook when you continued: “And I think I have for- for, like, a year? And I only realized on the fourth of July and there you were with Irene, and I just… And I thought if I backed off these feelings would go away, because you obviously don’t-” 

“Irene broke up with me,” his voice was much quieter than yours. You wanted to scream and cry and yell, because what did that matter? Why did that matter when it changed nothing? But then he spoke again: “She broke up with me because I kept thinking about you.” 

Silence. It hit you that Chan was not informing you, he was telling himself this.

“Yeah,” he scratched at the back of his neck and chuckled dryly, “I kept being quiet on our dates, ‘cause I was thinking about you. I guess she sensed it.” 

You were looking at each other in the dim lights. He was so beautiful, cheeks shiny and soft lashes curling over his lids. You sniffled. “Does that mean that you-” 

Yes.

Yes, it did, because before you could even finish your sentence he was taking a step forward and his hand was on your cheek again and this time his lips were on yours and fireworks, fireworks exploded in your chest and on your lips like bursts of static, but this time it wasn’t pained, it was beautiful, and you’re melting into his hold, just as he was yours. Lips moving in perfect unison, he tilted his head down and you tilted yours up, and grabbed his neck, and his other hand slid onto your waist, resting there, as the two of you rocked under the artificial light of your overhead lamp. 

Everything you yearned for was in your hands and you didn't dare to pull away, only whimpering when you ran out of breath, and chasing his lips when he pulled away to breathe. He chuckled, mouth curved upwards in that beautiful smile that you love. You love it, and there’s no point in hiding it. He pressed his forehead against yours and you’re panting into each other’s mouths.

“I love you too,” he said. You grinned, a perfect blush spread across your rounded cheeks, and his heart soared so much that he had to kiss you again, pecking and mumbling it again and again against your lips: “I love you, I love you, I love you.” 

His tongue slid over your lip and you opened your mouth with a squeak. His tongue was wet and warm in your mouth and his hands were suddenly on your hips, pushing them into his. Then he pulled away, blushing himself when a string of spit connects you. “Is this okay?” he asked, so softly, so gently, and you nodded, flushed and out of breath and pathetically desperate.

“Yes,” you whined, “need you so bad.” He cooed when you pressed your hips into his, long fingers brushing hair out of your face. “Channie’s gonna take care of you. Channie’s gonna make it up to you,” and yet again it's almost like he was saying it to himself, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care when he lowered the two of you onto your bed. Hair strands stretched from their roots in your head, when you hit your plush pillow, and you were all shiny and sparkling eyes, laid out before him in a way that he never dared to imagine. “Too pretty,” he whispered, kissing you again. 

He was grinding into you, anchoring himself on your waist and whimpering into the corner of your mouth at the feeling of your warm center through your shorts. “Baby, need you so bad. Can I take this off?” he tugged at your shirt and you nodded, unable to get anything out but whines. He pulled off the pink fabric, marveling at your bare chest before him. Of course, he’d seen it before, in tight shirts, on days where you’d decided to forgo a bra, and he’d always cursed himself for imagining the real thing. “You’re so beautiful,” he cried, as he hit your core just right and he stared at your tits’ slight jiggle. 

“Such a pretty baby, so ready for me, can I touch them, please, please?” he was babbling, somehow already pussydrunk, but you were no better, eyebrows cinched together in pleasure, nodding without even an ounce of hesitation at his request. He groped at your chest, thumbs brushing over the hardened buds, before he ducked his head down to suck on one. You’re gasping, as his tongue flicked over you, hands tangling themselves in his hair, moaning his name into the air. He hummed loudly, and you felt a thick glob of wetness escape your pussy at just the sight of him, hunched over you like a wild animal, panting into your chest.

“You’re so pretty,” you whispered and he let go of your tit with a small ‘pop’, lifting his head to look at you. He was grinning ear to ear, face still hovering over your chest. “Am I?” and suddenly he was so cocky, hand cupping your heat through your shorts, and watching as you buck into his hand with a strangled moan. “Needy girl, need pretty Channie to touch you, hm?” He teased, fingers gently rubbing over the fabric of your damp shorts.

“Please,” you whined, thrashing in the sheets, desperate enough to cry. He cooed and shushed you, hovering over you by one, strong arm: “Shh, sweetheart, shh, I know. I got you, I’ll make you feel good.” As much as Chan wanted to make you beg, he was desperate too, and he couldn’t help the slight guilt of what you’d been through. The thought almost made him frown, but he pushed it away and peeled off your shorts and underwear in one swoop. 

You cried out when his fingers were finally sliding through your folds. Your eyes, half closed, flicked up to see him, gaze trained on your core in amazement. “You’re so wet, baby,” he purred, spreading the warm slick up to your clit to start circling it with two fingers. “Just for you- Mngh!” 

He plunged two fingers into you with ease, wetness coating his fingers to let them slide in. You were panting and thrashing and moaning his name, and he just watched with the biggest hardon he’d ever had, how he made you feel good and how pretty you were, and how much he never wanted to pull his fingers out of your sopping wet heat. 

“Do you want my fingers in your mouth?” he asked, and you squeezed your eyes shut and nodded vigorously. “Hey, hey,” the fingers that weren’t plunging in and out of you and curling into your pussy’s sweet spot, squeezed your chin. Your eyelashes fluttered open, and you stared at him with blown out eyes. “You gotta look at me while you do it.” 

Then his fingers prodded at your lips, and you opened them with a whine, willing yourself to keep them open, to see how he smiled adoringly down at you. They were filling you just right, one hand stuck in your pussy and the in your mouth, teasing over your tongue. Your orgasm was approaching, knotting in your stomach, embarrassingly fast. 

He groaned at the sight of you, looking up at him with huge, adoring eyes while sucking his fingers. “Fuck, fuck, good girl, such a good, appreciative girl, taking my fingers wherever she can.” You clenched around him at that, and he chuckled knowingly. “Yeah, you like being my good girl? Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum in my fucking pants.” 

You released his fingers only to moan - almost scream - his name, as you came around his fingers, curling into you and working you through your orgasm. “That’s it, sweetheart. Cum on Channie’s fingers. Look so pretty when you cum.” 

You were still dazed on your bed in the glimmering aftermath of your post-orgasm, when you heard Chan shuffling beside you, and then he was leaning over you once again, shirt and pants discarded and cock proud and stiff and leaking precum onto your stomach. You groaned at the sight, hand trailing over his exposed stomach, where abs dipped and rose, glistening softly. Then your thumb caressed and pressed against his slit and he hissed, dropping his head into the crook of your neck. 

He nosed at your neck, pecking a little, before speaking, voice too strained and too pretty: “Can I fuck you, baby? Please, please, I need to feel you around me so bad.” He had shut his eyes tight, fighting the urge to grab hold of your back and press your tits into his chest.

“Please,” you came back equally as whiny, writhing in his hold, where his thumb was rubbing soft circles in your hip bone. “Please, wan’ your cock. Need it.” He smiled into your neck, grabbing your head and kissing your cheek. “So cute.” 

You felt the head of his cock slide through your still impossibly wet folds, then pressing against your entrance. You were murmuring his name over and over and he was panting into your neck and licking a stripe of wet glistening saliva onto it, as he began to push in. 

You were writhing so much he had to place his hands on your hips to still you, whispering soft reassurances until he was pushed all the way, clit pushed into his abdomen. You’re so full, you can’t stop the wanton moans at the feeling of his pretty, red cock, every bulge and vein pressed against your gummy walls. “You’re so fucking tight,” he spat, fearful that he’d spill his load into you immediately from the way you were clenching him. Then, slowly, he was rocking into you and the both of you were clambering onto one another. Your hands found his neck, his hair, his flexing biceps, and his your hips, waist, boob, and then clambering up to hold your face and look into your eyes. 

“Look at me,” you almost didn’t catch the way he repeated those words from before, but you looked into his brown orbs, blonde hair curling over and tickling your forehead. “So fucking pretty, so cute, my little cumslut. Say you want my cum, baby, please, say it.” 

“Wan’ your cum!” you cried, as he angled his cock inside you to press into that spongy spot. He was giving in to all his wants at your words, pulling you up by pressing his arms under your back, so your tits pressed against his chest, and he was nosing at your face again, trailing kisses everywhere he could reach. “So good for me, so pretty, all mine. Fuck, sweetheart.” 

“All yours,” you babbled mindlessly, when his hand snaked between your bodies to rub circles into your clit. “Cum for me, cum for me, baby.” 

His thrusts were growing sloppy, and you felt the knot tightening in you once more, pulled tight and ready to snap. “Cum, cum, come on, my pretty darling. Fuck, Y/n, I love you!” 

At those words you came, pussy pulsating around his cock and clenching so tight, he was unsure if he could even pull out in time. He did though, pulling out just in time to see his seed spill all over your soft stomach. 

Panting and out of breath, his arms gave out and he collapsed on top of you, body covering yours. “Ugh,” you groaned and looked up at you, laughing softly. “Chan, you’re heavy,” you complained. “I’m a weighted blanket,” he countered, but climbed off of you anyway, lying down next to you. You looked at him, with the side profile of a god, and his blonde hair tousled and chest rising and falling.

“You are pretty,” you said, and you could almost cry when he looked at you and blushed. 

“You should’ve just told me,” he whispered, turning his head to gaze at you. You frowned and nodded. “But it doesn't matter now,” he reassured, one hand climbing from the sloping, bunched up duvet and running his hand through your hair. He tilted his gaze towards your cum covered stomach, some of it having smeared onto himself, and he pushed himself off the bed. "I'll get a towel."

Naked and divine, he disappeared into your small bathroom.

“Oh, God..” you groaned suddenly, face morphing into anguish.

“What?” Chan called from the bathroom.

“Soonyoung is going to be the most insufferable person on the planet when he finds out about this."

#lee chan x reader #chan x reader #lee chan smut #chan smut #dino smut #dino x reader #svt chan x reader #svt dino x reader #svt x reader #svt smut #svt angst #dino angst #chan angst #lee chan angst

[writingoddess1125]

Zoro's Favorite Bartender that he has a thing for

+ $mut Headcanon

SFW

• Zoro has been coming to this Bar by accident for a while- He doesn't know how but he will always find his way to the Green Fuzz no matter where he is going.

• (Y/N) has been there for a while and always treats him well. Pouring him his favorite drinks and talking to him about his adventures. They make him feel good- Even when he's been beaten down or exhausted you've been there to lend him the spare bed in the back and a hot meal.

• "Ah Zoro, I see the wind blew you back here again" (Y/N) giggles at seeing the male. Even when he was a bounty hunter he would stumble into your bar confused by how he got there before taking a seat. Zoro shrugged at this as he sat in his usual spot. "Crew needed to stop to get some more supplies- figured I'd stop by"

• The two of you chat for hours, Zoro surprisingly seems more talkative when you're around. He can't help himself- you make it so easy to do so. From how you wrinkle your nose, snort your laughs and even when you hiss in disgust after a strong shot.

• He would never say it, maybe it was pride or a sense of wanting to keep you protected but- He may have fallen for you. His favorite Bartender that he would always he drawn to.

• "Hey Zoro, I gotta ask. You've been coming here for years, I am curious is it the drinks that bring you back or something else?" You finally ask after shaking another shot together.

• Zoro met their gaze as he downed another shot, His cheeks reddened from both the alcohol and the question.

• "For you, I show up for you"

NSFW

Warnings: Body-Worship, Unprotected Sex, Uhhhhh Sex?

• Maybe it was the alcohol or the admittance or attraction. However he found his way to that back room mattress. This time with you there as well

• Your fingers running through his green hair. Giggling at the feeling of his peppered kisses going down your neck.

• He kissed up your form meeting your lips again, his hands working to help peel off your shirt which you gladly helped.

• His own shirt being tossed away as well. Zoro couldn't help but look over you in want, his hands sliding its way across your body

• "I have traveled all the world and see many beautiful things- But you are by far the most beautiful sight I've ever seen"

• "You're so beautiful" He mumbled softly, You couldn't help but blush at his words.

• His kisses roam your body. Whispering sweet words of praise at your form- Perfect in every way.

• After that the pants come off and- Oh Boy 👀Let's say he's carrying a 4th sword as well

• Hes a pacient man, He will take time to slowly stretch you out with his fingers. Even using oral to help lubricate and have you hot an bothered.

• Once he knows your comforble he will set a gentle pace with you, Making sure to note your own pleasure while he unraveled in his.

•He isn't very vocal, Grunting and light hiss like moans.

• While being careful he may cum inside, if not mostly by accident. If he came first then he will defiently want to bring you to your own orgasm. Either with fingers, his own mouth, or even a second round if your up for it.

Aftercare

• He will hold you close, caressing your hair for a while.

• If there are any towels near by will clean you up to the best of his abilities however won't be too picky about it.

• "Not where I expected this to happen, But not mad either way"

• However like Zoro he will fall asleep quickly. One arm under his own head while the other holds you and keeps you close.

#Zoro headcanons #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #zoro roronoa x reader #x reader #one peice x reader #zoro roronoa x you

[fic-over-cannon]

Words Left Unsaid

jason todd x f!reader

ao3 link

summary: jason todd is your childhood best friend. he dies before his Words come in, the first words his soulmate will say to him, and you have to pick up the pieces.

tags: soulmate au, major character death (temporary), grief

rated mature | wc: 8.8k

a/n: so this monster of a story was based on an ask i sent to @jasonsmirrorball a while back (don’t read for spoilers). it pretty much took on a life of its own, and now here we are nearly 9k later. it does get pretty dark in its exploration of grief, so please take care of yourselves my lovelies.

Everyone’s born with Words somewhere on their body, unreadable at first. The skin is shiny, like an old scar, the words blurry and undefined. One day, you’ll see the first words you’ll ever hear your soulmate say to you, that shiny patch of skin blooming like ink (there’s superstitions about the colour your Words fade into, as popular as astrology). The trick of the thing is, you won’t find out what your Words are until you’ve become the person who is meant to hear them. You could meet your soulmate a hundred times and not know it, not until you’ve both grown into the people you need to be. The youngest person to get their Words was seven, and the oldest 92 years young. Or so the stories go. When you’re young, still poking at your loose front tooth with your tongue, it’s a story that comforts you. It’s the story you beg your parents for before bed every night. It’s the carrot they use to get you to try new things and go new places. What if you meet your soulmate at the new movie theatre downtown? How do you know eating your veggies won’t develop you into who your soulmate needs you to be?

It’s what your mother uses to try and coax you out of the car for your first day at a new school. She’s driven you to school for your first day, a one off so she can finish up your admittance paperwork. In this moment you hate her for it. It’s February and the year is more than halfway over. The snow has melted into dirty grey slush in the streets and the pinching Mary Janes the school mandates as part of the uniform are going to provide no protection. It’s halfway through the year and you’re certain no one is going to be your friend at a new school in a new city. You’re twelve years old and to you this is the end of the world. You’re trying so hard not to cry, hugging yourself together and burying your chin in your chest.

“Come on, honey, this is a school. It’ll help you become who you need to be.”

Your mother’s voice is cajoling, trying to coax you out the same way she coaxed a stray cat into her arms. It worked on the cat, now named Haley after the comet, but it doesn’t work on you. She tries to catch your eye in the rear view mirror but you stubbornly turn your head to look out the window instead.

“Please. Work with me here. We’ll go in together, you’ll have a wonderful day and make so many friends. And after school, I’ll take you out for donuts and you can tell me all about it before your Dad gets home.”

You keep silent, continue to stare out the window at all the other kids walking into the building.

“Honey, please. Can you just do this one thing for me, please.”

She’s almost begging now, and you hate the way it makes her sound. You want to tell her how scared you are, how there’s nothing more you want to do except huddle under your covers in your unfamiliar bed and hold Haley close. But your fear is a hot ball in your chest, choking off any words that might come out. You look at her though, plead with her with your eyes to understand how much you don’t want to do this. She stares back at you, an exhausted slump to her shoulders and lines around her eyes you don’t remember being there. Slowly, you unwrap your arms from around your rib cage. Place a hand on each knobbly knee and slowly curl them into fists before nodding, once, sharply, eyes firmly fixed on the car seat in front of you. Your eyes burn, but the sigh of relief your mother heaves out is worth it.

Gotham Academy is housed in a collection of gothic stone buildings which should have been strange in a large city like Gotham but weirdly works. You just think it’s creepy. Head down, you follow your mother’s back weaving through the crowds of students. You don’t want to see the stares, but you can already feel them boring into you. Sitting in the secretary’s office, you pick at invisible lint on your knitted tights. You know your mother’s having a conversation with the secretary but it all flies over your head in shushing murmurs. Your back aches from the overstuffed chair. The Mary Janes do pinch, makes you worried that you’ve already twisted your ankles from the way they throb.

“I’ve got to get to work now sweet pea, but I just now you’re going to have a great first day. I’ll pick you up at 4:00 and we can go get those donuts okay?”

Your mother’s crouched down in front of you, eyes searching your face for any kind of reaction. She looks worried and that’s what causes you to crack. You fling yourself out of the chair and into her arms, allow yourself one great heaving sob into her shoulder. She strokes your hair and hushes you, squeezes you tight like she could make you part of her.

“Oh honey. Everything’s scary right now but I promise it’s not going to stay that way. I believe in you and you’re going to get through this.”

You draw back from her, scrub at your face with your fists. Heaving breaths don’t help but they don’t make it worse. You go with the secretary, new schedule twisted tight in your hands. She lets you discard your coat and backpack in a locker, before walking you to your new homeroom. You only hope that you’ll remember the locker combination.

You hate the way your new homeroom teacher makes you stand at the front of the room. Mr. Mulligan won’t let you sit down until you introduce yourself to the class, a thing he could have done so easily himself. Pulling at your sleeves and trying not to make eye contact with anyone, you stutter out a few basic facts. Hate the way you can feel the other students catalogue you, the way your hair doesn’t look shiny and straight like its fresh out of a salon, your too small shoes, the unfashionably long length of your skirt and the lack of designer accessories. Your cheeks and eyes are burning by the time you can slide down into your assigned seat near the back of the class. There’s only one other person sitting in your row, a boy with dark curling hair and a shy grin. He leans over to your desk just Mr. Mulligan starts the lecture.

Whispers, “Hi! My name’s Jason. I already know your name, figured if we’re going to be seat mates its only fair you know mine.”

You smile tightly and turn back to the lesson. You’re desperate not to miss anything, already feeling like you’ve been left behind. At your old school, you were in the middle of The Great Gatsby, but Gotham Academy is doing Romeo and Juliet for their seventh grade English class. You don’t have the play book, have no idea what part of the text they’re talking about, and this is the first time you’ve actually heard Shakespeare read out loud. Writing as fast you can, you try to keep up but it doesn’t matter how good your notes are if you don’t understand what the teacher’s talking about.

Usually you love English class, how uncovering symbolism and hidden meanings make you feel like you’re uncovering secret messages sent by the authors years in the past. Now it’s all going over your head and you hate it here so much already. The one class that you might have been looking forward to and you’re overwhelmed by it. You press too hard with your pencil, tear through the sheet of paper in front of you.

A notebook slides across your desk. Messy but legible writing on the first few scenes of the Act are written on it. Looking in the direction it came from, you make eye contact with Jason. He grins toothily before turning back to the front, Mr. Mulligan having moved on to a different quotation. The gesture makes your chest tight.

The rest of the class goes by uneventfully if still a challenge. There’s a short break between classes in which you frantically copy down the notes and slide the notebook back to him before your next teacher arrives. The next class isn’t so bad, still difficult and you’ve never liked math as much as you probably should, but it’s less intimidating than English. Someone must have fiddled with the thermostat during the break because the room feels colder than before. You wish you were on your old school’s schedule with shorter classes and more breaks. Sitting still for so long at your desk is making your back ache and cramp up. Math is almost over, Miss Lewis writing out the assigned homework on the board, when a wave of something comes over you. It’s an effort of will not to curl up on your desk.

The bell rings for lunch break and you just about bolt to the first bathroom you can find. Something’s wrong with you, more than just nerves over the first day. You’re cold but you’re sweating, nausea burning at the back of your throat. The ache in your back and stomach are almost unbearable, makes you want to curl into the fetal position to ward off invisible blows. Rolling down your tights in a hurry, you sit down on the cold toilet as fast as you can. Your hand is wet, and for a moment you worry that you’d lost control of your bladder on the way to the bathroom. But the stain on your hand is dark, matches the blood slick crotch of your panties. You hang your head and can feel the tears you’ve been holding onto all morning drop onto the floor. Just another thing you can’t control in this shitty new town and its stupid new school. Your first period.

The bathroom is cold, hard tile under your feet and wintery sunlight weak through the windows near the ceiling. The blood on your fingers is cold and tacky now. There’s a boundary here, between childhood and being an adult that you aren’t ready to cross yet. I want my mom, you think, only on the edge of hysteria. But she’s at work, wouldn’t be able to come if you called.

So you do what needs to be done, stop your tears as best as you can and sniffle. Wipe your face clean with the back of your sleeve and do your best to dab at your underwear with the single ply toilet paper. Layer sheets of toilet paper between your tights and underwear, build a makeshift pad in your sort-of dry underwear out of toilet paper and hope that it will hold up. Luckily you’ve escaped staining the regulation uniform skirt, so no one should be able to tell what happened. You get transfixed by the swirls of blood washing down the sink drain, hands gone numb under the stream of water. Splash cold water on your face in the vain hope it’ll calm down your puffy eyes. As ready as you can be in this situation, you eye yourself in the mirror and tell yourself to get moving before the bell for third period rings.

The boy from the back row is waiting outside the classroom for you. He looks nervous until he sees you, lights up with that shy smile again.

“Hi! I uh noticed you weren’t at lunch today so I grabbed you an apple in case you didn’t grab anything to eat.”

He’s babbling on about the cafeteria food not being that bad if you’d just try it, even though finding a table the first time can be rough. All you can do is stare at the apple in his hands, transfixed. You’re only shaken out of your stupor by the sound of him calling your name.

“So… are you going to take it? The bell’s going to ring soon and the teachers really don’t like us eating during class.”

“Thank you,” you say, genuinely shocked and touched.

He goes a little bashful at that, looks away as you take the apple from him. The apple’s good, sweet and crisp under your teeth. You make quick work of it in the hallway, finishing it up just as the bell rings. Jason stands right in front of you the whole time, hides you from the penetrating eyes of your classmates.

“All done? We should probably find our seats now. Monty,” and here he adopts a snooty British accent, “Archibald the Third is a real stickler for being on time. He’ll mark you late if you’re not sitting in your seat, even if you’re in the classroom.”

His impression makes you snicker and forget, just for a moment, how miserable you are. Mr. Archibald the Third is just as ridiculous as Jason’s impression of him predicted, but you get through it by making eye contact with Jason over the most ridiculous moments. Mr. Archibald really does have you call him “the Third”. It’s probably got something to do with his Words, a flowing script running vertically down the side of his face reading, “The Third, dear God how many of you are there?”. History with Mr. Archibald manages to be fun despite his absurd demeanor and your own private hurt seeming less terrible for a few scattered moments.

The final class of the day drags on, the pain in your front and back growing. Your hand moves across the page but your mind isn’t really paying attention. There’s a commotion as people gather their things and stand, already streaming out the door. You blink, stupefied, then slowly gather your things.

“Same time, same place tomorrow then?”

“—Yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow Jason.”

Your mother’s waiting for you in front of the school, car idling puffs of smoke into the darkening afternoon. Your backpack lands in the back seat and you crush your face into her coat across the console. Her hands come to your back, patting and rubbing circles until your breath comes in long, even draws.

“Honey I’m so proud of you. Your first day done! Let’s go celebrate, hmm? How was it? Did you make any new friends?”

“Can we get the donuts to go? I— uh, um I— I might have started my period today?”

Your voice lifts on the end of the sentence, suddenly absurdly worried about her reaction. You needn’t have worried though.

“Oh sweet pea, on your first day too? We can go home, get you a bath and something for your cramps.”

“No, I just really want to go get donuts with you because today kind of sucked and I’ll still feel kinda shitty but at least then I get donuts while I feel bad.”

“No more swearing and we’ll get a whole box to go, okay?”

Lying in bed that night, wrapped around a hot water bottle with Haley on your feet, you think that your day wasn’t that bad. It could have been a lot worse, and Jason was surprisingly nice. You stare at the shiny patch of skin on your wrist and hope that one day it will all be worth it. You drift off to the thought of blue eyes.

For the rest of that week you join Jason at his corner in the cafeteria. Between Math and History you slowly start to get to know one another. He offers to let you borrow his notes for the upcoming test in English, gets a little sheepish when he mentions that he practically knows the content by heart anyway. Jason’s sweet and funny and by Friday you two are the best of friends.

Once your mother is confident that you can handle the commute to school on your own, she doesn’t mind if you’re home late as long as you send a text first. Something about socializing with more kids your age being good for you, not that you’re listening too distracted in the haze of victory. So the two of you hang out after school, the city your shared playground. Jason treats you to your first chili dog and laughs when you get some on your nose. In revenge, you dare him to cover his lunch in chili oil at lunch the next day. The way Mr. Archibald threatens you both with detention for being disruptive is so worth it.

It’s not until the middle of April that you get the courage to ask Jason why you. Why out of everyone in the school he chose to reach out to the new kid and make her his friend. It’s probably the most personal thing you’ve asked him yet.

“It’s ‘cause no one else would’ve. Most of the kids here, their families founded Gotham and they’re not keen on outsiders. Most of the scholarship kids, they start at the same time, form a group so the rich kids don’t pick on them so much.” He pauses here, has to look away before he goes on. “Most of the others don’t like me ‘cause I don’t really fit into either category, you know? Like my dad’s a big name in Gotham but he only just adopted me so I’m not really one the rich kids but he’s doing more than just paying my school fees. You looked just as lonely as I was,” here he turns to grin, “and I wasn’t going to give up an opportunity to make someone carry my lunch tray.”

“Hey, idiot, if I remember right it was you bringing me lunch the first time.” You shove at him indignantly, but he dodges too quickly for you.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I can’t remember, on account of me being an idiot.” He flicks you on the tip of the nose and goes running.

And then it’s on. You chase him around the park, laughing and swearing to get your revenge on him. The two of you collapse breathlessly onto a mostly dry patch of dirt under a skeletal tree. Staring up at the sky and trying to catch your breath, you feel Jason nudge at your should beside you.

“So what about you? What brought you to the happiest place on earth?”

“My dad got headhunted for a promotion. He’s researching something for Wayne Industries and all of us had to move here for it. So mom gets a new job and I get transferred to a new school.” You sit up suddenly, look down at Jason lying in the grass. “Promise not to tell anyone?” You wait for him to nod first before continuing. “I only got into Gotham Academy because of my dad. I heard him and my mom arguing about it; he made it part of his contract that I’d get to go to school there if he accepted the job.”

“So? I’m only at GA because of my dad too. You think a kid from Crime Alley gets to go to private school without a little nepotism?”

You slump back down on to the grass, stretch a hand out to the sky and look up at it.

“To nepotism I guess.”

A hand reaches up to the sky next to yours. Slowly, ever so slowly he reaches a pinky out and links it with yours.

“To two misfits only here because of nepotism.”

School lets out in June, the city air ridiculously hot and humid. You can’t say that you’ve made any good friends outside of Jason, but there’s some girls you say hello to in the halls. You mourn not being able to see Jason everyday, but the plans you have to meet up are enough to soothe the ache.

He takes you to an arcade first, the two of you spending hours trying to beat each other at Pac Man. Tired but happy you split a basket of fries at the attached cafeteria. You’re enjoying the greasy fried goodness of the snack but you notice Jason isn’t reaching for the basket as quickly as you are. Looking over at him, you notice him staring at a pair of brothers playing a game. The younger whoops, jumps up and down in excitement. The older one ruffles his brother’s hair and challenges him to a new round. You toss a fry in Jason’s direction, surprised when he actually manages to catch it.

“You good?”

“—Yeah. It’s just, I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it? But I kind of have an older brother and he was supposed to take me to the arcade last weekend but he got in a fight with Dad and just left.”

“That’s a real dick move, ditching you over his issues.” At that, Jason breaks out in hysterical laughter, almost choking on the fry in his mouth. There are tears in his eyes by the time he stops coughing but he looks slightly less like a kicked puppy.

“It really, really was. You don’t know how much it was.”

Happy that the mood has lifted, the two of you finish off the basket of fries. You challenge Jason to Dance Dance Revolution and he wipes the floor with you. He’s way more athletic than you’d expected from him. The two of you part ways happy, already planning your next hang out. It is enough.

You meet up almost every week that summer. Jason shows you the Gotham he knows, little hidden gems only locals know about. A movie theatre that only shows movies made before 1980, a diner with the best milkshakes you’ve ever tasted, the best places in the public library to read undisturbed. Teaches you about the safest places to evacuate when disaster hits, which parts of the city are most dangerous. The park and its chili dog stand quickly become a favourite for you, a place to just hang out without any responsibilities. It also becomes a kind of confessional of sorts, where you end up telling each other your worst fears and secret hopes.

You confess once, after riding out your first Rogue attack with your fingers buried in Jason’s T-shirt, that you’re worried you’ll never feel at home again. That you can never go back now to your old house and feel at home there now, but that Gotham still feels too alien to be called home yet. Your darkest fear, that you’ll end up alone one day, deserted by everyone that you know and love. Jason tells you about his fears that one day all of this, Bruce and Alfred, the manor, school, will disappear one day. That the big brother he looks up to will never start to like him. Every time the two of you bare your souls to each other, Jason will hook his pinky over yours and squeeze. It’s a friendship built on shared secrets, on fears assuaged, and worries made better.

Your last year of middle school is largely uneventful. You got to classes, have lunch with Jason, hang out after class with Jason, text Jason. You get into a routine and that brings you comfort. There’s a slight period of awkwardness right before the 8th grade formal. A weird tension envelopes you both, the nebulous question of if you’re going together hanging over you. You don’t like it, the way Jason seems almost hesitant in all your conversations these days. It sets your teeth to itching and you can’t stand it anymore.

Slamming down your textbook, you say “Okay that’s it. I can’t stand whatever this is. You and I are going to the formal as friends. We’ll get all dressed up and if it’s lame we can ditch and go get Batburgers.”

“Oh thank God. I didn’t want to say anything in case it made it awkward but then it was just getting more awkward and then I just didn’t know what to do.”

The party is lame, but the burgers make up for it. Your dress is nice though. Your mother helped you pick it out, the fitted bodice and loose swing of the skirt making you feel passably pretty. It’s been hard to feel pretty with the way your body’s changed over the year, hips widening and chest starting to grow in ways you can’t predict. Jason cleans up nice, though whoever slicked back his hair went overboard on the gel. You pose for a picture all dressed up together, faces pulled into silly expressions, your burgers held in front of you like trophies. You pin a copy of the photo up in your bedroom. It makes you smile every time you see it, something warm in your chest.

The first day of high school brings back those first day jitters. You’re not even transferring schools, just switching to a different building and still your palms are sweating. It’s not until you see Jason, sitting in the back row with an empty seat behind him that you can release the breath you didn’t realize you were holding. It’s different teachers and different subjects, but in some ways it’s like the day you met again. Scribbling notes until your hands cramp, Jason passing you notes in class, struggling to keep up with what the teachers are saying. At lunch, you and Jason even split an apple between you. It’s terrifying and familiar and all the more bearable because you aren’t going through it alone.

High school is different. Everyone’s more aware of each other in ways they weren’t in middle school. Girls wear brighter lip glosses and flaunt the shiny spaces where their marks will come in. Boys douse themselves in too much body spray and start eyeing up anything that moves. But through out it all, your friendship remains the same. Something about high school solidifies things, has you go from You and Jason to YouandJason. At school you’re a unit, almost impossible to think of you as separate beings. After school, you still spend time together, still explore the city, still message all the time. But you’ve still never been to each other’s houses. Never met each other’s families yet.

Jason offers, once, to have you over to the manor during the winter break, but you’re not keen on it. Crinkle up your nose and ask to think about it.

“It’s not that I don’t want to see you over the holiday, or meet your family Jason. It’s just that I kind of like the way things are? My family knows that you’re my best friend, they’ve seen pictures of us, but the way things are now, you’re still entirely mine. Our friendship’s just for us. Meeting your family kind of changes that.”

“I like us being us. But would it really be that different to come hang out for a few hours? You could come over when Dad’s out and it’d just be me and Alfred.”

Eventually you agree, spend an afternoon with Jason at the manor to cram for your next round of tests. Mr. Pennyworth is lovely, keeps bringing snacks up to the library as an excuse to check up on you. Bent over your books, you miss the significant looks Alfred is sending Jason over your head and the blush that lights up his face in response. Mr. Wayne is thankfully not home. You’re not sure you could have handled meeting Jason’s grandfather and father in the same visit.

Jason makes it over to your apartment a few times over the spring semester. Your father’s always working, but your mother likes him well enough. She makes him stay over for dinner, won’t let him leave without feeding him first. She calls him a nice boy and tells him to come back any time. Still, you two prefer going out to coffee shops or the library to hang out, uninterrupted by well-meaning adults.

It’s on one of those summer nights, the two of you some of the last people in the public library, that the subject of your Words comes up. The skin across your left wrist catches the warm light of the lamps in a way that’s distracting. You’re startled by the feeling of fingers tracing featherlight over still-shiny skin.

“You ever wonder it about it sometimes? What it’ll say or who’ll say it?” The tone is unreadable but Jason’s voice is above the whisper he usually uses in the library, but with so few people around you figure there’s no harm in mimicking his volume.

“I used to. I was obsessed with Words when I was little. Couldn’t go to sleep without hearing about them as a bed time story.”

“Used to?” And Jason’s fingers are still there, drawing maddening little patterns across the thin skin of your wrist.

“Well, I’ve got other things to think about now, things that are actually within my control.”

Jason presses down, gently, with the broad of his thumb on your pulse. You snatch back your wrist, cradle it to your chest, uncertain of how intimate that gesture felt.

“Fair’s fair. I showed you mine, now you’ve gotta show me yours.” Your tone is teasing, trying to capture the earlier lightness of the afternoon.

“Oh I do, do I?”

He reaches for the top button on his uniform button down, starts undoing two more. Horrified, you reach across the table and grab at his hands.

“What are you doing?! You can’t just go around stripping in public!” Your hissed whisper may not have been said at all for all the impact it makes. Jason shakes off your hands and goes back to undoing his shirt.

“Not all of us are blessed with easily accessible Words. Relax, I just have to get the shirt wide enough to show how far the Words will go.”

Across his collarbone is a thin strip of shiny skin, reaching from one side of his neck to the other like a necklace. Whatever it will say looks pretty lengthy for someone’s Words. Mesmerized, you reach out to trace it with your fingertips. Jason shifts back before you can make contact.

“Gotta buy me dinner first sweetheart. I’m a classy lady like that.”

You flush at the term of endearment, but cover it with indignation.

“Hey! What do you call the tacos I bought for us yesterday?”

He laughs it off and the tense moment is broken. You pack up your things, smiling at the ground. You like the way sweetheart sounds coming from Jason, not that you’d give him that to tease you with. Despite how much you tell each other, there’s one secret you haven’t told him yet. That privately you hope your Words will be his. It’s so easy to fall in love with Jason, or at least what passes for love at this age. The light in his eyes when he rants about the latest book he’s read, when he shares the biscuits Alfred packs for him, the way he listens to you so intently even if he doesn’t have all the answers. You can admit to yourself that you’re hopelessly in love with your best friend, but never out loud. Your friendship is one of the most important things in your life and you are terrified of destroying it.

You don’t see Jason much after that, that summer. Your texts and calls still get answered, but he’s frustratingly vague about meeting up. He says that his dad has him in a kind of summer school, wants him to learn from private tutors before school starts up in the Fall again. Asking about what it is that he’s supposed to learn (his marks are already incredibly good) makes him cagey about it. You don’t want to push, but it feels like he’s pulling away from you. Phone calls get shorter, sentences more clipped. Your offers to just drop by the manor to see him get turned down automatically. It’s the longest you’ve gone without seeing him since you’ve met. You’re terrified that he’s done with you. That for some unnameable reason he’s decided to end your years of friendship and there’s nothing you can do to stop it from happening. Gotham seems colder without Jason at your side, the dangers more obvious and your usual haunts less welcoming.

Finally, after nearly two months you manage to pin him down, get him to agree to meet the day after his birthday. Your heart is in your mouth as you wait for him on a bench in the park. There’s a trickle of sweat running down your back. It’s a hot day but the park is a lush green, an after effect from an Ivy attack the night before. You release your grip on your present for Jason, smooth the envelope and hope you didn’t crease it with your sweaty fingers. A voice is calling your name.

Jason’s been changed by the weeks apart. He’s a few inches taller now, filled out in the shoulders more. You have to crane your neck back to see his face. The anxiety in you is reflected in his face, the way he nervously runs his fingers through his hair, his darting eyes. Uncertain how to proceed, you thrust the envelope out between you.

“Happy Birthday.”

“I— thank you.”

There’s silence again, and the awkwardness between you is a tangible thing. It’s worse than it was in eighth grade only this time you don’t know how to bridge the gap. You look down at your shoes, the toes scuffed.

“I’m sorry for ignoring you.” It comes out of him in a rush. “I’ve been a really shitty friend lately. Just, all summer my dad’s been on me about studying with these private tutors except they’re all friends with Dick so nothing I do can ever be good enough in comparison and every day I’ve felt like crap but I didn’t want you to see me like this which only made me feel worse ‘cause then I basically had to avoid you all the time which is the exact opposite of what I wanted to do and all I wanted to do was have you tell me there’s nothing wrong with me and they can all go kick dirt but then I’d have to talk to you about it which I wasn’t ‘cause I was already embarrassed.” He has to pause here to catch his breath, words running together at the speed which he was going.

“You planning to breathe any time soon?”

He deflates, collapses onto the bench next to you, an arm tucked around his right side awkwardly holding the card so it doesn’t get crushed. You sigh, heavily.

“I thought you didn’t want to be friends anymore.” Your confession is barely above a whisper. You can’t even look at him as you say it.

“I didn’t— I wouldn’t. I need you to know that I never, ever don’t want to be your friend okay? I was an idiot. I’m sorry.”

“Promise not to cut me out again and that you won’t take out your own issues on our friendship, and maybe I’ll consider forgiving you.”

“Pinky promise.”

Jason places the card in his lap, goes to link your fingers together, then winces at the movement of his arm. Suddenly sirens are going off in your brain.

“What’s wrong with your side?”

“Nothing, must have just pulled a muscle or something.” He tries to laugh it off nervously, but you can tell when he’s lying. His eyes dart to the left over your head, knee bounces almost imperceptibly. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and you know he’s not telling you the truth.

“You can’t even go a full minute without cutting me out! Jason, I know something is wrong. Now tell me.”

He hesitates, and you’ve had it with the lies and the avoidance and the being kept in the dark. You fingers go to the hem of his shirt and you start tugging.

“Hey! Wh-what are you doing?”

He tries to squirm away, batting at your hands but you get his shirt up far enough to see the bruise on his ribs in the shape of a boot. It’s purple going a sickly yellow, mottled and stark against the dips of his ribs. You can feel all the blood drain from your face. Jason’s pushed up against the far side of the bench, pulling his shirt down with shaking hands.

“Jason. Jason if someone is hurting you, you need to tell someone. If it's your dad or one of the tutors, we can find someone to tell together.”

“No one— no one’s hurting me, all right? I just didn’t get out of the way fast enough during a Rogue attack. I didn’t want to worry you, that’s all. No one’s abusing me, okay?”

“But you’d tell me if they were?”

“I tell you everything important.”

It’s not enough, not nearly for you. From the look in his eyes Jason knows this too, but its all he’s willing to give. There’s a crossroads in your relationship here, a road where you push and push until you get the full story but shatter the tattered strands of your friendship or you accept that you’ll never have all of Jason but maybe your friendship will survive. So you do what needs to be done.

“Okay. If you say that’s what happened then I trust you.”

It’s a low blow, to twist your trust in him like a knife, but it’s your only way to express your frustration with him. You gesture to the envelope, fishing around to change the subject.

“So you going to open that or what?”

And just like that, there’s a new normal. You see Jason everyday in class but he begs off your after school hangouts as often as you two actually spend time together. Conversation is stilted, hidden undercurrents to them of subjects neither one of you wants to address. You’re wary, suspicious of every bump and bruise Jason shows up with. The ease to your friendship has gone, disappeared to the realm of the past.

At the end of October, Jason becomes obsessed with the news. Keeps checking headlines and obituaries, fearful like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. The death of Felipe Garzonas makes the news and the tension in Jason ratchets up. He’s irritable, stops paying attention in classes, blows up when you try to feel out what’s wrong. He’s apologetic every time, promises it won’t happen again until you eventually stop trying to ask questions. Hope that your presence is enough to steady him through whatever it is that is tormenting him.

He asks you once, if you’d believe in his word, no matter what the evidence of something told you otherwise. You tell him you would, always, but that answer doesn’t seem to make a difference.

Winter break comes and goes, without an invitation to visit this time. If anything, Jason comes back more irritable and closed lipped. Mutters something about a fight over Christmas dinner, his brother and Bruce clashing over something. You’re worried about him all the time now. He’s more reckless with himself, won’t look before crossing the road, reacts aggressively to every perceived challenge, throws things when he gets frustrated. He’s changing into someone you don’t recognize in front of your eyes.

April comes and there’s a new light in his eyes. It’s manic and hopeful and the first emotion you’ve seen in him other than fear in months. He won’t tell you what it is, just that there’s something new he’s found out, something about his mother. This time you hope, fingers crossed and a wish on every star that whatever has brought him this hope won’t hurt him.

On Monday, Jason doesn’t come to school. He doesn’t answer your messages or pick up any of your calls. Even when he’s been out sick he at least lets you know. On Tuesday you get called into the office in the middle of first period. You haven’t been back to the secretary’s office since the day you enrolled. The seats are still as overstuffed as you remember. The secretary is the same, a few more grey streaks in her perfectly set hair. Her eyes are red, and she’s got one of those old fashioned handkerchiefs in her hands.

“I’ve got some bad news honey, and I— I think it would be best if you sit down for it.”

“Oh— will this take long? Only I got pulled out of class and we’re reviewing for the exam next week.”

“Oh honey.” She has to pause to dab at her eyes before continuing. “You’re going to be excused from all exams next week, okay? I need you to know that the school will do whatever we can to support you through this.”

Now, now you are scared. “Support me through what? It’s not my mom is it?”

“Honey it’s Jason, Jason Todd. I’m so sorry but he passed away yesterday. I’ve contacted your parents and your mother is on the way to come pick you up.”

Her words don’t make any sense.

“But he can’t be. I saw him on Saturday. There’s been a mistake. He’s not dead.” Your legs don’t work anymore and you hit the couch, hard, sliding off the overstuffed pillows to kneel on the floor. You don’t feel any of it. There’s copper in your mouth, you must have bitten your tongue on the way down but you can’t feel it. There’s movement in your peripheries, and your mother crouches down into your field of vision.

“Mom, mom they made a mistake. She’s— she’s saying that Jason’s dead, but he can’t be. Mom he’s not dead.”

“Sweet pea, I’m so, so sorry. It’s been on the news all morning.”

It rips through you then, grief. Sobs shake your whole body, your mother doing her best to hold you together. There’s a roaring in your ears like you’re caught in a vacuum. You can’t see through the tears. Your body is trembling violently and you can’t care enough to try and stop it. Nothing matters anymore. Jason’s dead.

To get to the car, your mother has to half carry you. There’s no point in moving. You’re not sure how you end up in your bed at home but you do. You don’t sleep but you aren’t really awake either. The tears don’t stop coming. You’re nothing but an open wound, not even really a whole person. The world’s burned down to ash and you’re just floating through it. You know your parents come in to talk to you, can hear the murmur of their voices but you don’t care. There’s food put in front of you but it holds no interest to you. You might have had sips of water, maybe some broth but you don’t remember and you don’t care. The only thing you really register is Haley, nestling up to you and making biscuits with his paws in your blankets.

Jason’s funeral is on Friday and you can’t get out of bed to go. Jason’s not in that coffin, not really. He won’t be there and so you won’t be. Jason’s never coming home. Jason’s dead, Jason’s dead, Jason’s dead plays on a loop. You never got to tell him. He died without knowing you loved him. His death has ripped you open like nothing ever has before, regret a constant salt in the wound. He never told you that he was thinking of leaving, of going anywhere. It feels wrong at this point, to interrupt his family in their grief, another stranger claiming to have known their son. After all, how well did you really know him if you didn’t even know he was going to leave?

Grief swallows you whole, but over time you learn to live with it. Days blur together. The tears dry up but the not caring doesn’t. Inside of your head is a wall, separating you from the reality of a world without Jason. You’re wrapped in wool and safe behind glass, unable to care about anything. It’s easier that way.

The school passes you for the year, citing personal tragedy, and you don’t care. Summer comes and the only difference is that your mother comes in and throws your windows open every morning. It’s Jason’s birthday soon, too soon. He’ll never be sixteen but you will be. He’ll never have his Words come in. He’ll never get the chance to do all the things he talked about, make Gotham a better place, travel the world. But you can.

It makes no sense to live for a dead boy but it’s all you’ve got. So you do what you have to do. It gets you to leave your bed for the first time in months. To start eating again, even if there’s no taste to the food in your mouth. To shower and take care of yourself for the first time in ages. Your room is clean for the first time in months and the first thing you do is take down your photograph from the 8th grade formal and put it away in a desk drawer.

By September, you have gathered yourself enough to return to school despite the worried looks of your family. It is hard, the hardest thing you have ever done but you do it for the boy that will never graduate high school. You sit by yourself at your desk, you eat lunch by yourself, you go straight home after class without any detours. The school play this year is Romeo and Juliet. You take home the sign up flyer and consider it, hard. In the end you decide to leave it. Jason may have always wanted to try out for the play but you won’t survive torturing yourself with this. On opening night you tell your parents you’re going to see it and get drunk on the gymnasium roof.

You make it through your last two years of high school a ghost. Administration tries to pressure you into meeting with a therapist but you refuse. You don’t want to experience your grief at all. Numbness is the only way you are going to survive this, your new reality. You do take them up on their suggestion of volunteering. Working with the Martha Wayne Foundation for Underprivileged Children gives you a sense of purpose. Of helping other Crime Alley kids without the benefit of nepotism to get them into places like Gotham Academy. It stokes the first emotion in you other than numbness, and that’s rage for all the ways in which these kids have been failed.

You accept a full scholarship to Gotham University. Your parents couldn’t be more proud of your achievement but you can barely muster the energy to smile. Keep up the volunteer work while rushing through your degree in two years instead of four. With nothing else to drive you, you’ve got nothing but time for school. The Martha Wayne Foundation offers you a position in fundraising, and you accept. It’s not what you envisioned for yourself, but it’s a path forward with purpose.

You move out, into your own apartment in an area that’s probably too dangerous for a girl of your age but you can’t stand to be at home anymore. The job consumes your life and you are grateful for it. It’s important work, even if some of the policy meetings on accepting donations from the Red Hood make you want to fall asleep. You make use of your Gotham Prep connections, rubbing elbows with the rich for just as long as it takes to pry open their wallets. It’s ridiculous but the higher ups trot you out to entertain at fundraising events, a pretty young face to pull in more donors. Occasionally you see Bruce, or Dick, or the newest ward Tim at functions, always across the room before you quickly excuse yourself. The numbness carries you through your life but there are limits to it and you’re not eager to test them.

Even five years later, you can’t go back to the park. You’ve never had another chili dog, though you’ll hire the vendor to cater community events. You’ve worked your way back into the public library, but still avoid the alcove on the second floor in the encyclopedia section. There’s a handful of arcade tokens in a plastic bag in your apartment still unused. Batburger is still your favourite, but you still can’t set foot in the location nearest to the Academy.

You keep yourself so busy that when your Words come in, “I’m sorry sweetheart, I didn’t know…”, you barely give it a thought, just pulling the cuff of your shirt lower to cover your wrist. Carry on with the rest of your morning routine and head into the office. From that point on, your sleeves are always long and your gala outfits gain elbow length opera gloves. You never bother trying to read the rest of it. It doesn’t matter anymore.

It’s a cold February morning. The bus broke down two stops from the office and now you have to walk the rest of the way in the snow. Standing at a crosswalk waiting for the light to change, you pass the time by scanning the headlines on the nearest newsstand. “Lost Wayne son found alive” screams out at you, tearing into your heart bloody. You lose grip of your work bag, but manage not to lose your mind in the street. Picking your bag up out of the slush, you run into the nearest bodega bathroom and lock the door with trembling hands. Shove a fist into your mouth and scream as the tears pour down your face. You’re shaking, worse than you were all those years ago. Snot blocks your nose and you have to stop screaming to breathe. So you do what needs to be done. Fumbling with your coat pocket, you pull out your phone and call the office, call out sick. It’s the only time you’ve done it in all the time your supervisor has known you but the tremor in your voice and frequent sniffles must alarm her enough.

In a fog, you somehow make it from the bodega bathroom to the front gate of Wayne manor. It doesn’t look like it’s changed at all since your last visit over five years ago, except for the heaving mass of press. You circle round the property and enter through the bushes, the way Jason showed you years ago on a tour of the property. You slip on the snow, fall to your knees but get back up. This is the only thing that matters now. The back door has an elaborate knocker that takes both of your hands to lift. It takes what feels like ages for someone to answer the door. It’s poor Mr. Pennyworth, looking more ruffled than you’ve ever seen him. You’re indescribably rude to the poor man, pushing right past him and into the building. Only one thing matters now and your vision has narrowed out anything outside of achieving your goal.

There’s voices coming from somewhere inside, up the stairs and in the direction of the library. A hand, probably Mr. Pennyworth’s, tries to grab at your wrist but you’re too quick for that. You’re running now, clutching at the bannister as though it will pull you up the stairs faster. A shout from behind and the tone of the voices change, a door slamming in the distance. Finally, finally you reach the library but a body tries to come between you, stopping you in your tracks. Years of grief, anger, and battered hope come roaring through you at the thought of being denied seeing Jason, alive after all this time.

Your voice when it leaves you is dangerously low. “Dick, I presume? You don’t know me, and I’ve heard very little about you from Jason and what I did hear I didn’t like. I’m going to make this simple.” The door behind him cracks open, but you soldier on anyway. “Jason Todd was my best friend and first love.” The body stiffens, but that doesn’t matter in this moment. “You are going to step aside and-” anything else doesn’t matter because a door is thrown open and there is Jason.

Eyes wild, a good deal older and more scarred than before, but he’s alive. And then nothing else matters but the feel of his arms warm around you, the imprint of his jacket on your face, the smell of him largely unchanged. He’s alive and he’s real and you can touch him. You draw back to look at him, drink in the sharpened angle of his jaw, the blue-green of his eyes, the white streak in his hair. He’s grown taller and broader than he had over that wretched summer so many years ago. What catches your eye is the writing at the hollow of his throat, a stark black spreading across his collarbones exposed by the v of his t-shirt. Jason Todd was my best friend and first love, it reads.

“I’m so sorry sweetheart, I didn’t know you felt the same.” He says and your wrist starts to burn.

#jason todd x you #jason todd x reader #jason todd x fem!reader #red hood x you #red hood x reader #jason todd fic #jason todd imagine #jason todd #soulmate au #tw grief #sunnie writes 🌻

[httpsleclerc]

so i'll take the nightshift

sebastian and his ex wife have a chat after the last weeks events

part one here

wc: 1.3k words

cw: absent father? again not intentional

It had been a week since you had admitted to both yourself and your daughter that you missed Sebastian. In that week, he had been at your apartment first thing on Monday morning to pick her up so that he could spend his week with her, since he had already missed her birthday - which was truly no fault of his own - he had vowed he would treat her like the princess you both knew she was for the whole week he was able to spend with her. You knew that Sebastian was a great father, in your daughter's eyes? The best - even if her mommy and daddy didn't live together, she knew that they both loved her with everything that they had. Your week without her had been peaceful enough, managing to get all the housework that needed done did before her arrival - But the silence that came with the lack of her had you deep in your thoughts, as you remembered your admittance of missing your ex-husband: You were hoping that she wouldn't relay what you had said to Sebastian.

You were sat on the couch, Sebastians throw blanket tucked around you - You couldn't bare to get rid of it after you had separated, everything else was fair game, but part of you didn't want Sebastian out of your life entirely, you still loved him and missed him dearly. Hearing the door knock, you paused the movie playing on the TV, your daughter had already walked in on you watching a horror movie before, and you would rather not want to go through that again. Keeping Sebastians blanket wrapped around you, you heaved yourself up off of the couch and shuffled to the front door, opening it and seeing your daughter asleep in her father's arms.

"Oh, hey," You greeted him, your heart stopping as you realised that this was really the first time you had come face to face with your ex since you had admitted missing him, the Monday past where he had picked her up, you had been too busy getting her ready to really have a minute to process your feelings.

"Hi, I don't know if she's pretending to be asleep or not but she's not waking up," He smiled at her and then you, and you returned the smile, remembering the days where she would be pretending to be asleep to get you or Sebastian to carry her into the house. "Can I come in?" Sebastian asked you, you nodded in response, stepping aside to let him come into your apartment.

"How was she?" You asked him, brushing her blonde curls out of her face as she slept peacefully in her father's arms. Sebastian smiled, he held so much love for the daughter that you and him had created and loved nothing more than getting to spend time with her - well, he loved one thing maybe a bit more.

"She was great, I'm sure she'll tell you all about it when she wakes up, she's really talkative now, huh?" You chuckled at Sebastians words and nodded, you knew all too well how chatty your daughter could be, especially when she was excited or had something fun to tell you.  You sighed as you realised that you couldn't deal with the conflict that you felt within you anymore, you needed to talk to Sebastian about how you were feeling, about how your daughter was feeling.

"Seb, can we talk?" You asked him, placing a hand on your daughter's small back and then looking up at Sebastian, who nodded in response to your question. "You can put her to bed if you want, her room is down the hall and to the left." He smiled and nodded, internally fighting the urge to place a small kiss on your lips like he would always do. You paced your living room as you thought of how to vocalise your feelings without bursting into tears.

"Is everything okay, Y/N?" Sebastian asked you, as he settled down on your couch and watched as you sat down beside him, playing with the bracelet that your daughter had made you. You sighed, knowing that if you didn't do this now, then you never would. 

"(Name) missed you last week, she was devastated when you didn't make it to her party," You started telling him, your heart breaking as you remembered the heart break of your daughter as she told you of her upset at the absence of her father at her party. "And I had to tell her the same thing that I used to tell myself, that it was because this was your job and that you couldn't help it and then she said that she missed you and then I said-"

"That you miss me too," Sebastian cut you off, frowning as he looked at you. "She told me, I was putting her to bed and she told me that you were upset because you missed me." Your heart stopped as you sighed, rubbing your face.

"The worst part is that I mean it, Sebastian," You told him. "I miss you, but I don't miss you being gone all of the time, not hearing your voice for days because of the time differences, but now I have to make the same excuses I made for myself for you being gone to our daughter, Sebastian." Your voice was wavering and you knew that at any point, you would burst into tears and his next words would determine the possibility of that. He reached forward to hold your hand as he always did when he could tell that you were getting worked up, even separated, he still knew you so well.

"If it makes you feel any better, I'm going to be retiring at the end of this season," He dropped the biggest bomb you had possibly ever heard. You furrowed your eyebrows as you looked at him, you didn't understand - Sebastian loved his career, so why is he giving it up.

"What? Sebastian, you love racing," You voiced. Sebastian chuckled as he shook his head, still holding your hand in his.

"I do, but I love you and (Name) more, and I don't want to miss out on any more of our girl growing up," He told you, you swallowed the lump in your throat as you gained some sort of inkling where this was going - were you ready for this again? Was he being genuine? Of course he was. Again, even separated, you knew your ex well. "And I'm not expecting you to take me back straight away, I know me being gone so often really hurt you in ways that I could never imagine, but I would really like for us to try again. I still love you, Y/N. I think I always will love you." 

You didn't even think over his offer of trying again before you threw yourself into his arms, craving the feelings of his touch after being starved of it for so long. You were getting your Sebastian back. 

"I don't think I ever stopped loving you, Seb," You cried, looking into his eyes which mirrored your daughters perfectly. He laughed as he looked into yours, finding nothing but the woman he had loved since their first meeting, the woman who was the mother of his beautiful daughter, the woman he loved.

"Me neither, my love."

Maybe this time, things wouldn't be the same, but better. 

note: idk whether I love or hate this pls give me some feedback to work with

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #formula 1 #sebastian vettel #sebastian vettel x platonic!reader #sebastian vettel x reader fluff #sebastian vettel x fem!reader #sebastian vettel x reader #dad!sebastian vettel #f1 angst #sebastian vettel x reader angst #sebastian vettel imagine #sebastian vettel x you #sebastian vettel fanfic #sv5 #formula one

[meowzfordayz]

hashira find out that you self harm

Author’s Note: as always, pls heed CW (content warnings). These were not written purely for comfort, but also w/ ~realistic reactions in mind, so while they def lean toward comfort, there’s a certain lvl of inherent discomfort and pain in them as well. 🖤

hashira find out that you self harm

Hashira x Reader

Word Count: ~1,900

CW: depression, explicit language, implied self harm, traumatic references

Emergency Request Fulfilled: Can I request kny x reader, (sanemi, michikatsu, genya, giyu, & rengoku)

of an s/o who sh & feels very s*icidal

tough times yk?

Emergency Request Fulfilled: A request, idk if this is gonna seem insensitive, but could you write the hashiras reactions if they found out the reader sh? I have been struggling with these things lately and would like to see something like that, but if you feel uncomfortable with it then you don't have to do this.

Emergency Request Fulfilled: I ended up breaking my streak of not sh-ing last night and I feel awful again. I was wondering if you could do a rengoku x Reader with that kind of subject material as a sort of pick me up. Sorry for bothering you like this it’s just I feel not so good rn and you’re someone who provides me comfort with your writing

kamaboko find out that you self harm

~faqs~

When they find out that you self harm…

… Gyomei doesn’t know what to say. His immediate reaction is to feel incredibly protective, but his gut tells him overreacting could push you even further away. “Oh.” A single word exhaled quietly from his mouth, and you feel yourself unraveling. “I-” Quickly, he collects himself. “Don’t apologize to me,” he asserts gently, “Thank you for telling me.” “You aren’t mad?” you ask shakily. “I’m confused,” he answers softly, “I want to protect you, but I’m unfamiliar with protecting someone from themselves.” Your heart twinges at his admittance as his arms wrap steadily around you, his palms pressed clammy and flat against your back, his embrace soothing even as his frown deepens.

… Obanai is furious. With himself, of course. A silent, dreadful anger that sticks to his spine, no matter how much he twists, turns, and talks with himself. He throws himself into research, a whirlwind of educating himself as best and as quickly as possible, all the while maintaining a light hearted, gentle facade whenever you’re beside him. “Are you okay?” you’ll ask sometimes, his sporadic urgency noticeable, “Something bothering you?” And he knows confessing his frustration won’t solve anything; guilting you or making you regret sharing yourself with him is the last thing he wants. So he shrugs, shooting you a lazy, intimate smile, suddenly grateful for how he can make his eyes twinkle above his mask, truthful grimace covered, “Just missing you.” “But I’m right here!” you exclaim, nudging him happily. “I know,” he mutters softly I know.

… Mitsuri cries. She doesn’t mean to. She doesn’t mean to make you comfort her. She doesn’t mean to make you apologize over and over until you’re both bawling, clinging to each other as though squeezing tightly enough might make your truth dissipate. But she does. She cries in your arms as you cry in hers, disbelief and sorrow rippling through her body. “I-I’m s-sorry,” you repeat, voice strained, unable to catch your breath as you gasp between sobs. “M-me t-too,” she whimpers lowly Me too. She’ll put herself back together later, determination to love you as hard and as fiercely as ever gradually overcoming her initial shock and dismay, even as part of her heart remains forever changed — forever afraid of losing you… to yourself.

… Shinobu struggles to maintain a boundary between being your partner and being your therapist. She’s not professionally trained in psychiatry, but she’s obviously knowledgeable when it comes to physical healing, sooo why not mental healing? That’s not how it works she often has to silently remind herself, seconds away from responding to your spiraling as though you’re in a therapy session together. Deep down, she knows all she can do is be there for you as she is. Not as she wishes she could be. Not as she feels she should be. But as she is. Am I enough? she wonders as she listens to your labored breathing, feeling you twitch beside her in your sleep I sure hope so she sighs, pressing light fingers to your overheated cheek, smiling faintly as your breaths gradually slow I really hope so.

… Kyojuro is distraught, but does his best to conceal it. For your sake. His sake. He isn’t really sure, actually. All he knows is he’s watching you fall to pieces in slow motion, and somehow, he still isn’t quite fast enough to catch all of you. Some days are easier than others. Those other days? He can barely bring himself to touch you.

“Kyo,” you sigh, fixing an even stare on his unnervingly neutral gaze, sorely missing his usual eagerness, “What’s going on?”

He promptly brightens, stepping forward to press a light kiss on your forehead, “Nothing is going on.”

Then why won’t you comfort me?

Wordlessly, you slip your arms around his waist, relieved when he accepts your embrace, confused that, “Then why don’t you hold me anymore?”

He frowns at that, head tilting, “I am holding you right now.”

With a snort, you mutter quietly, “No, Kyo, I’m holding you. It’s like you suddenly need my permission to-” interrupting yourself as realization hits, “Kyo.”

He blinks, feeling thoroughly ~caught, yet unsure what act you’ve caught him in.

“Yes, my love?”

“You don’t have to be scared of me!” you exclaim, bittersweet laughter rumbling in your chest, “I know I…” trailing off awkwardly, “I know I’m not okay, and I know you worry, but keeping yourself from me doesn’t help, solve, or ease, well, anything!”

“Are you certain?” he murmurs, dreadful despair leaking into his gut again, “I… do not know how to navigate this.”

Squeezing his hips, you glare fondly at him, “I know I’m not okay, and I know it pains you to hear me say that. I also know it pains both of us when you distance yourself. You don’t have to let me go. You aren’t the problem.”

But he nearly exclaims But I can’t save you!

“I don’t need saving,” you whisper instead, reading his perceived failure in the tremor of his fingers tracing up and down your spine, “I just want you to love me.”

I do he swallows thickly I love you so much.

… Sanemi leaves midway through your quiet, shaky explanation, fingernails nearly breaking the skin of his palms, mouth a thin line, lavender eyes too narrowed to discern the pain pulsing through his glare. You listen to the front door open, expecting a resounding bam, mystified when a nearly silent push of air signals his departure. Shit. You know then that he isn’t pissed. At least, he isn’t pissed at you. Which, really, would be easier to handle than the slow dripping tears glistening on his cheeks, clinging to his eyelashes; would be easier to handle than reading the single text he sends you I love you, don’t wait up; would be easier to handle than waking to the feel of him tracing hearts across your skin, bed warmer with his body, mattress dipping you toward him. “I’m sorry I left,” he whispers, somehow knowing you’re awake before you’ve even fully processed consciousness yourself, “I won’t do it again.” You mumble something incoherent in response, catching his hand with yours, pressing a sleepy kiss to his knuckles. “Fuck,” he hisses sharply, sob lodged in his throat, “You’re everything to me,” lifting your knuckles to his lips, returning your gesture Everything.

… Muichiro doesn’t understand why, but he does notice its consequences. He notices the tiredness glinting in your eyes, even though you’ve just woken up. He notices the slowness in your movements, even as you’re expressing excitement. He notices the harshness of your voice when you’re having a particularly difficult day, though he doesn’t understand why it’s particularly difficult. He voices his disconnect, curled up beside you on the couch, hands wrapped coolly around yours, apologetic and upfront. “I can tell when you’re in pain,” he says gently, “But I don’t understand the desire to then create more pain.” Shaking his head as you open your mouth to explain, he smiles softly, “I know it hurts to try and help me understand, and I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” brow furrowing as he sighs quietly, “That’s just it, I guess. I don’t want you to hurt yourself. I don’t understand.” You know he means well, you know he isn’t upset, but it doesn’t get easier listening to him navigate your pain. “I love you,” you offer, leaning over to peck his cheek. He sighs again, soaking in your warmth, unable to identify the tight numbness in his chest, “And I love you.”

… Giyuu nods, thoughts racing even as silence settles between your anxious stare and his unblinking expression.

“Giyuu?” you tentatively prompt him, “This… this wasn’t easy for… for me to tell you.” 

Like an unpaused movie, he blinks into action, reaching for your waist even as he watches for the slightest hint of discomfort from you, ready to divert his movement if need be. You crumble into his touch, leaning heavy and exhausted against his chest, melting into the smooth reassurance of his hands splayed across your lower back.

“I know,” he murmurs lowly, eyes closed, “Thank you for trusting me,” resisting the urge to pull away, cup your face, and press his forehead firmly to yours, involuntary tears pricking the corners of his eyes, “Thank you for…” his voice fades, knowing he’d crumble en suite if he continued, desperate to remain steady for your wavering breaths.

“For what?” you choke out, “Giyuu.”

Thank you for staying he thinks somberly Thank you for loving me.

“Thank you for choosing me,” he finally whispers, “And thank you for letting me choose you.”

You laugh roughly, sound mangled in his shirt, “I’m a mess.”

He doesn’t deny your statement, instead pulling you closer, his heartbeat loud and promising, tears falling freely now. And that’s okay he wishes he could say Two messes are better than one he wishes he could quip How do I fix this? his fear stutters on repeat What do I do? underlying his tenderness, knowing all too well that he has only questions, and no way of answering them.

… Tengen takes it unexpectedly well. He listens patiently, nods at appropriate moments, and gently interjects with the occasional question, all the while kneading your thighs as you sit on his lap, watching you with a careful, encouraging warmth.

“You’re amazing,” he declares softly, “Not to belittle your pain, of course,” sadness simmering just below his faint smile, “But I want you to know that, after everything you’ve told me, my first thought is how incredible you are.”

You shrug, unsure how to accept his compliments, stripped bare as you glance downward, eyes closing.

“Hey,” he murmurs, familiar hand cupping your chin, “I know I can’t make you believe anything I say,” bittersweet sigh grazing your skin, “But I can at least share my own beliefs. I can at least share my own perception of you. I can love you.”

Your nose scrunches, eyes opening to meet his honest stare, swallowing your breath with a shudder.

“I’m here. Whatever you want to tell me, whatever I need to know,” voice thickening, “I’m not going anywhere. If you need me to be firm, I can be firm. If you need me to be quiet, I can bite my tongue. I’m your lover, your partner, and a resource.”

So let me fulfill all of those roles for you. Let me love you. Let me walk beside you. Let me taste your burdens as you’ve stomached mine.

“You don’t have to be responsible for me,” you chuckle weakly, attempting to ease the tension, “I don’t tell you things to make you carry them for me.”

“But I would,” he speaks steadily, “I know you wouldn’t ever ask me to,” maroon gaze dark, “But I would.”

He doesn’t mean to be overbearing, but he doesn’t know how else to convey the fragility in his heart; its overwhelming swell of aching and anger — the stark hopelessness of knowing he can only watch. Of knowing he can only listen. Of knowing he can only handle as much as you’re willing to give him.

#preferences #modern au #himejima gyomei #gyomei x reader #iguro obanai #obanai x reader #kanroji mitsuri #mitsuri x reader #kocho shinobu #shinobu x reader #rengoku kyojuro #kyojuro x reader #shinazugawa sanemi #sanemi x reader #tokito muichiro #muichiro x reader #tomioka giyuu #giyuu x reader #uzui tengen #tengen x reader

[ophidianoccultist]

Admittance

Sebastian Sallow x F!Reader

18+ MDNI

Tags: first time, cluelessness, p in v, some angst if you squint?, interruption, oral (f receiving), choking/leash?

Word Count: 8.3k

"Ah, there you are." Sebastian said.

His face bore the usual composed smile, and his short, brown, curly hair remained tousled atop his head. Freckles dotted his cheeks, while his deep brown eyes exuded arrogance and confidence. Y/N looked up from her Herbology book at her best friend, Sebastian. The two had been friends since their fifth year, and here they were now, going to gradute this year.

Sebastian looked tired and a tad sweaty, appearing as if he had run down every flight of stairs in the whole of Hogwarts. And apparently, he had been searching for her. And here she was in the library, studying for her Herbology exam. Why had he not thought to look here first?

"Are you alright? You look dreadful."

Y/N bookmarked her page and closed the textbook, looking up at her freckled friend.

"I've been trying to find you," he said, his voice tinged with exhaustion. He sat in the seat next to her, looking somewhat dejected and out of place.

"I have something very important to tell you."

His deep brown eyes gazed intently into Y/N's, his expression a strange mix of nervousness and confidence. Her brows furrowed slightly at the urgency in his voice. Oh Merlin, had he been out on some ludicrous errand again?

"Yes, I'm listening. What is it, Seb?"

She turned her body to face him, giving him her full attention. Sebastian took a deep breath and looked down for a moment, before meeting Y/N's eyes and finally saying the words he had rehearsed in his head over and over again.

"Y/N, I've been meaning to tell you this for a very, very long time. Since fifth year, in fact. But I could never find the courage..."

He seemed to be struggling to keep his emotions in check, and his voice was shaking slightly.

"...I'm in love with you."

Both of their faces flushed a deep shade of crimson as she stared at him with a dazed expression. No... He doesn't really like me, right? Did someone put him up to this?

"I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me."

He was quiet for a moment, the silence broken only by his shallow breathing. His gaze remained locked on Y/N's, his eyes filled with a mixture of hope and fear, like a soldier preparing for battle. After a few moments of painful tension, he spoke again:

"I know we've been friends for a while," he said, "but I was too shy to express my feelings before. Maybe I still am."

He paused again, looking for some response from Y/N. She blinked a few times before she actually processed his words, and then she flushed a deep cherry red. This wasn't a joke, she knew he would never play around with her feelings like that. Sebastian was silly, sure, but he's not mean.

"O-Oh, well... I, um..."

Her hands started fiddling with the collar of her shirt as she always did when she was nervous.

"Look, if you don't feel the same way, that's..."

His voice trailed off, his expression now a mixture of embarrassment and hope.

"It's fine, I would understand..."

After a long pause, he finished his thought.

"But I was too scared to say anything before. And I know I should've probably just kept those feelings to myself, but I couldn't help it."

He looked down again and took a deep breath, waiting for Y/N's answer. It was now or never, she had to tell him. The anger in her was quickly rising though; why did he have to admit this now of all times? She had felt this way about him for ages, and thought he didn't see her the same way.

"Sebastian, why didn't you tell me earlier on? Right when I start to move on, you come out with this and make me confused all over again."

Y/N's voice raised a little, but her tone was more exasperated than accusatory. Sebastian looked surprised at her forcefulness, her words a total shock to him.

"Wait, you've...you've liked me?" he asked.

He could feel his heart leaping in his chest.

"I thought you were already over me..."

His voice was filled with both hope and confusion.

"Are you not?"

"Not completely, I still have feelings for you, but..."

All Y/N would like to do at this very moment is just have a Graphorn bite her head off. It was hard telling him this, but he needed to know...

"I've already begun pursuing someone else? We aren't together, just flirting, but that's the situation."

A wave of sadness washed over Sebastian's face as he listened to her words.

"Oh... I understand."

His voice was quiet and somber, his gaze cast down towards his feet.

"I-I hope you'll be happy, Y/N."

He was clearly devastated, but his tone remained calm and collected. He paused for a moment, biting the inside of his cheek before looking back up at her.

"But what if it doesn't work out...?"

A sigh escaped Y/N's lips, not enjoying being put on the spot like this.

"Sebastian, I don't know who to pursue now. I really like you, but I'm beginning to really like him too. I just..."

Y/N trailed off, burying her face in her hands, wanting to simply disappear and not have this conversation at all. Yet Sebastian reached out and gently took her hands in his own all the same, rubbing her palms with his thumbs in an effort to comfort her.

"Look at me," he said.

He tilted Y/N's head up so that he could look at her eyes.

"Please listen. We've known each other since fifth year; we like the same things, we're best friends... I know you think you like...him, but if you could be with the one you already know and trust, wouldn't you choose that over some new fling?"

He paused for a few seconds, contemplating his next words carefully. He felt emasculated and slightly manipulative saying these things, but as he looked into her eyes, all of those feelings were put on the back burner.

"Please... choose me."

"Can we speak somewhere a little more private? I always feel listened to in here, and not in the good way..."

Her eyes met the bright green eyes of Garreth Weasley, who was the boy she had been pursuing. He shot her a silly smile laced with worry, and it was all she could do to not giggle at him. Y/N turned back to Sebastian and asked:

"We could go to the Undercroft? Or the Room of Requirement? So we can discuss this?"

"Yes, of course."

He squeezed her hand and gave it a little kiss before letting go. Sebastian rose from his seat and held out his hand, gesturing for Y/N to take it.

"Shall we go?"

Hesitantly, she grabbed a hold of his wrist and allowed him to lead her to wherever he was taking her.

"Of course, lead the way."

Even though she was wary of the conversation, Y/N felt a little warmth spread through her body upon touching him. All of the blood rushed to her face as he held her hand and she took a real look at him. Sure, he was cute in his fifth year, but over the past couple of years, he had grown taller so he nearly towered over her. He had filled out a lot better as well, and she could confidently say that he looked handsome. Sebastian slowly led Y/N out of the library, turning to face her as they headed down the corridor. He smiled warmly at her, his amber eyes shining with a glimmer of hope. Sebastian looked back behing him where Y/N was trailing along and took note of her increased height and curves, the flush of her cheeks, and the way her hair moved in the light breeze.

Y/N was far more attractive than she had been at the start of fifth year, and Sebastian's feelings for her were only growing as they headed towards their destination. After a bit of walking and a couple of flights of stairs, they soon found themselves at the Undercroft, which was the place the both of them and Ominis went when they needed to be alone. Although now that she was cured, Anne joined them down there too at times. The gate closed behind them, and Y/N sat down on the slightly dusty sofa in the cold stone room.

"So..."

Sebastian sat down beside her, looking her in the eyes.

"Yeah. So..."

Y/N could see the faint sparkle of tears in his eyes. Sebastian was clearly on the edge, and he felt like the weight of the world was on his shoulders.

"Look, I know you like the other guy. But the truth is, I don't know if I can handle watching you spend that kind of time with him."

He paused for a moment to take a breath and get his thoughts properly aligned, then continued.

"All that time spent together... I don't just want you as my friend."

An uncomfortable and heavy silence weighed over the pair like a cold, wet blanket. It was only Y/N's words that cut through it.

"I feel the same way about you, Sebastian."

Bravely, she scooted a bit closer to him, their knees brushing together, and she noticed Sebastian tense up at the miniscule touch. Just how much did he really feel for her? Sebastian drew in a sharp breath as he felt her body brush against his own. He was speechless for a moment, trying desperately to process his own emotions and feelings.

"You... you like me?"

Sebastian's head was whirring with questions and he felt confused.

"But what about Garreth... I mean, I saw you together... "

"Let me deal with Garreth, okay? I'll wean him off the flirting, we haven't even admitted any feelings to each other, we were only flirtatious. He's sweet and a good friend, and I don't want to lose him."

Y/N took a deep breath as she saw Sebastian's eyes darken at her calling Garreth 'sweet'.

"Look, I want to make this work between us. I really do like you, Seb, and I have for ages..."

Her head settled on his left shoulder and she grabbed his hand in both of hers, the tangle of them resting on her right thigh. Sebastian was taken aback when Y/N placed her head on his shoulder and wrapped her hands around his. Her actions gave him the sudden urge to pull her close and kiss her right then and there. He felt overwhelmed by a wave of emotions and sensations, trying his best to keep his composure. He looked over, their faces only inches apart.

"Then what's stopping us...?"

Y/N could feel the rapid beating of his heart, his deep breaths brushing against the skin of her neck each time he leabed in to whisper into her ear. He cleared his throat and continued:

"What are we waiting for?"

"I..."

A proper sentence or even syllable couldn't even escape her lips. After all, Sebastian was right. What was stopping them from giving in to each other? Yet Y/N was still hesitant. She'd only ever kissed one person, but that was Leander Prewett in their second year; it was awkward and only lasted a moment or two.

Her head rose from his shoulder to stare back into his beautiful brown eyes. It would only take a slight push to close the gap between them, with how close they were to each other. Y/N parted her lips slightly, waiting for him to move in and close the gap for her. Sebastian held her gaze for what seemed like an eternity. His heart was racing so fast, he thought it would jump out of his chest altogether. He knew he shouldn't hesitate, but for some reason he felt scared, like a diricawl in a poacher's crosshairs. He took a deep breath, gathered all of his courage, and finally did it.

He moved his face towards Y/N's in one smooth motion and kissed her. It wasn't a peck on the cheeks or on the lips, but a full on kiss, filled with passion and emotion. That kiss was all Y/N needed to break down her inhibitions. Sebastian's lips were soft and slightly chapped, but the way they moved so well against her own, you'd think he had done this a thousand times before. One of her hands pried away from his to rest on his cheek, smooth and smattered with freckles. Her thumb stroked his face softly, but her whole body froze as his tongue grazed her lower lip. Sebastian's heart almost leapt out of his chest as his tongue was allowed to enter the equation. The soft caress of Y/N's thumb on his face and the heat building between their bodies felt amazing, and he desperately wanted more. He wanted to be touched, to be loved physically, to seal their feelings for each other with such an intimate act.

He slipped his arm behind Y/N's back and slowly pulled her closer, his tongue slowly caressing her lower lip once more before finally entering and tasting her mouth. His hands caressed the small of her back and he could feel his body heat up as they kissed.

"Oh..." he moaned quietly before continuing to kiss her passionately. Sebastian's mouth tasted like tea and mint, and it was intoxicating to her. His tongue explored her mouth, somewhat clumsily from inexperience. But as his hand found her hip, Y/N felt lightning jolt throughout her body, as if she had just had a hearty gulp of Pepper-Up Potion.

The chilly tension in the air was soon replaced with a hot and more pleasant tension. Sebastian's arms around her made her absolutely melt, and she hadn't felt a rush quite like this before. Sebastian's body was simply radiating with lust and desire. His hands roamed her body, squeezing her rear and sliding down her back to caress her hips. Every kiss was more passionate than the last, and he began to moan more and more between their kisses. He felt light-headed and dizzy, and the way his lover's soft lips caressing his body in the dim, dusty room was so much better than how he had imagined it nearly every night for two years.

"I love you, Y/N."

A low groan escaped her throat at the feeling of him getting more handsy with her. She could feel in her soul that he really wanted her, he needed her. On impulse, she laid her legs over his lap; but soon after, she felt him hungrily grab her by the hips and lift her to straddle him instead. For a brief moment, though, sense overrode the near drunkenness she felt from his touch. Y/N broke away from the kiss for a moment, slightly panting.

"Sebastian...what if Ominis or Anne come in here? What if they interrupt us?"

Sebastian stopped his movements and froze when she asked the question. He hadn't thought of that...

...they hadn't even locked the door.

Before he could say anything, however, a faint knock came from the other side of the door. Y/N cursed herself for speaking this situation into existence.

"Y/N... Sebastian... is everything alright in there?"

It was Anne. Her voice was quiet and uncertain, but it was clear that she was worried things were going south. Sebastian told her that he was going to confess, and she just wanted to make sure everything went well. Y/N's eyes clenched shut and she let out a small groan to herself, although she was screaming bloody murder in her head. She exchanged a desperate glance with Sebastian before she rose from her place on his lap and made her way to the door. Sebastian's face, however, seemed to go white as he adjusted his trousers. The door opened to Anne Sallow, who was a bit taller and looked healthier now that she was rid of her curse. She shot her friend a faint smile which Y/N returned.

"Hey Anne, everything's fine. Seb and I are just having a discussion."

The flushed faces and general disarray, however, seemed to suggest that it was more than a 'discussion'. Anne's eyes widened when she saw the flushed faces and disheveled clothing as she peeked around the room. She could clearly tell what had been happening in the Undercroft, and she felt very awkward about it.

"Riiight... a discussion. How nice," she said awkwardly.

She glanced over at Sebastian, noticing the look he was giving her, something between a plea and a death glare. She cleared her throat and spoke again, very disturbed at this point.

"So, um... shall I give you two some privacy? Do you want a few minutes to resume your...discussion?"

"If you don't mind. I'm sorry, Anne, but we have a lot to discuss, so we might need a while. Please don't tell Ominis?"

Her voice cracked and she got fidgety from the embarrassment, and second-hand embarrassment from Anne. Y/N could only imagine how awkward it was for her to see her brother in such a state with her best friend. They both stood there for a moment, still as statues, as Sebastian crossed his legs in an attempt to cover himself. Anne nodded her head quickly, her face still a bit red.

"Right! I'll... I'll be in the library then."

She turned around and hurried out of the Undercroft, closing the door behind her. Sebastian could feel his face flush even more than it already was. He sat in silence, his thoughts filled with embarrassment and shame. He looked over at his lover, his eyes pleading with her to speak, to say something that would break the awkward mood. The shade of red that spread across her face was so intense, she thought that maybe her hair would also turn bright Weasley red. Y/N took a deep breath and then promptly spoke:

"It's okay. It's fine, let's just..."

After locking the door with a wave of her wand, she sat back down on the squashy sofa next to Sebastian once more, looking him in the eyes. Her hand rested on his cheek and she turned his head to look at her.

"Focus on me, okay? Let's not think about her right now..."

Her other hand grazed his thigh, making him tense up. Sebastian felt his body heat up as she touched him. It seemed as if he forgot his sister even existed, judging by the way his breath hitched and his muscles tensed. He was so sensitive, and all he needed now was release.

"Oh..." he moaned quietly, his eyes wandering downwards to her hips as she sat back on his lap. He looked back up at Y/N's face, absorbing every single feature on it, as if this were the last time he would ever see her again.

"It's so hard to think clearly when I look at you..."

Her voice was sweet and calming, and her eyes were piercing and beautiful. Her words managed to break the tension ever so slightly.

"Please, I... I need you..." he pleaded as a blush spread across his cheeks again. Her eyes gazed into his with a suble intensity coming from the both of them. Y/N could almost feel the heat radiating from his body, and her own body was soaking it in.

"Yes?"

Her voice was almost a whisper, as the sight before her was breathtaking. Sebastian took a deep breath, taking in Y/N's enchanting beauty before he spoke. The thoughts going through his head at that very moment could have made a whore blush.

"I need you, you know...in the sense that..."

He looked down at his lap where Allana was sitting, thinking for a moment. He was confused by his own words...he was never one to beg or submit to others, right? But then again, he couldn't deny how much of an influence her presence had on him and how his mind and thoughts were always clouded by thoughts of her.

"I love you. I always thought it was just lust, but there's so much more..."

This time, Y/N didn't even need to think about her words before she spoke:

"I love you too, Sebastian. And if you feel the same, then show me. Make me feel what you feel for me."

Her hand found his, and placed it on her thigh, her gaze never breaking from his. At this point, Y/N was completely drunk on love and desire for Sebastian. Garreth Weasley was put completely out of her mind now; all she needed or wanted now was Sebastian Sallow.

Her lips collided with his once more, needing to taste him again. The second their lips melted into each other, his hands were on her again, travelling over her body. Y/N placed one hand on the back of his neck, and the other grabbed his tie to pull him closer to her. Sebastian's heart seemed to skip a beat as she placed his hands on her thighs. He felt like he could drown in her gorgeous eyes and he knew that he had to make her feel what she made him feel.

As her soft lips touched his, his mind was filled with a rush of pleasure and his body trembled with joy. His hands ran through her hair, caressing her body with every movement. Y/N's lips tasted sweet and he wanted more...the feeling of her on his body was addicting and he couldn't hold back any longer. Their lips danced together, as if it just came so naturally to the both of them. Once more, Sebastian grabbed hold of her hips and rear, shifting them a bit so he could gain some pleasure from the friction. Underneath her, Y/N could feel the bulge in his pants, and it get her even more excited.

"Sebastian..."

Her voice was almost a squeak, like a bunny rabbit, as his name escaped her lips. Her body was so warm now, and the layers she was wearing made her sweat a bit. Sebastian was less dressed than she was, already without his robe and blazer from running around earlier, but she tugged at his shirt all the same. Sebastian felt a rush of pure pleasure as he witnessed and felt just how eager she was. His tongue continued to dance with her lips, exploring her mouth like it was a new continent. His heart was beating so fast that he could hardly stand it for a moment, but when Y/N began to tug at his shirt and move his hand down to her rear, his breathing quickened and his mind went blank.

He looked at her, his eyes reassuring her that she was doing the right thing. It was so surreal seeing the girl he had fantasized about sitting on his lap, so close and intimate. Y/N ceased her movements and pulled away from their passionate kiss to look at him seriously, but her eyes and her voice were still dripping with a sultry desire.

"Sebastian...are you sure about this? Are you ready? It's okay if you aren't..."

That last statement was laced with a subtle disappointment, however, which betrayed her real thoughts. Sebastian sighed, taking deep and careful breaths as he looked back at his lover.

"Y/N..." he said, his voice quivering a bit. "I'm... I'm sure."

He looked away for a moment, thinking about his next words carefully.

"... I'm more than ready."

He could feel his face flush with embarrassment as he said this. The confirmation from Sebastian was all Y/N needed to go all in. In mere seconds, her lips were on his once more, and her hips were now harshly grinding against his. He groaned into the kiss from the friction against the ever growing tent in his trousers. Sebastian was practically melting beneath her, and she was loving every second of it.

Y/N lazily shrugged her robes off of her shoulders, leaving them in a pile on the floor. Soon after that, her hands fumbled to undo Sebastian's tie and began unbuttoning his shirt. Something so simple as Y/N's robes falling to the floor almost sent him over the edge. Her hips grinding against him, her lips pressed against his. The scent of her, her skin, the feeling of her warm thighs against his trousers. It was more than he could bear.

As Y/N's hands fumbled with his tie, he began helping her. He unbuttoned his shirt quickly and pulled it off in the same motion. When the shirt fell to the floor beside her robes, Y/N could see Sebastian's muscular frame in the light of the candles, his hair still mussed up from their intense making out session. The sight before her made her almost drool, but Y/N didn't allow herself to stop now. Quickly, she pulled back to remove her tie and vest and skirt; but as she worked to unbutton her blouse, Sebastian's hand grabbed her wrist and deigned to work on the buttons himself.

Both of their faces grew hotter and redder, as if it was just now dawning on them what they were doing. Sebastian began to work on the buttons of Y/N's blouse slowly. Although it was taking some time without him using magic, fumbling a bit from nerves, it was still an intimate activity to do together. As the blouse slid off of Y/N's shoulders, Sebastian's eyes trailed down her body, the sound of his breaths quickly filling the room as his own excitement rose.

"Darling..."

Sebastian whispered, almost in awe of the beauty in front of him. He felt her skin, it was so smooth and soft, so warm. His body was almost shaking in anticipation of what was to come next. While his lover was smaller in frame, Sebastian was more toned. Not exactly muscular, but still a bit broad, and his chest was covered in the same freckles that decorated his face, and especially concentrated around his shoulders. As her eyes trailed down though, she noticed the outline of his pelvis and the ever so small line of hair that led down to his crotch. It was all Y/N could do not to rip his trousers off of him, but she thought it was better to savor the moment.

Slowly, she reached behind her back to unlace her corset and let it fall to the floor with her robes, leaving her only in her thin cotton chemise. And then her fingers traveled to his trousers, removing his belt and undoing the buttons on them. Y/N's touch set each of Sebastian's senses ablaze. He could feel the smooth fabric of her chemise, the lace on her corset before it fell to the floor. When he felt her fingers undo the buttons on his trousers, his heart seemed to skip a beat. He let out a soft moan as he felt her gently caress him, and when the trousers fell to the floor beside his shirt, it became clear just how excited and eager he was.

He looked at Y/N once more, hoping that she would take the next step... The only thing between them now was her thin chemise and his undershorts. Their breathing was stilted and uneven, since they were both holding back their primal desire to just claw at each other. Wait a minute... Why am I holding back?

Sebastian and Y/N both exchanged an intense look, wordlessly agreeing to not hold anything back. He seemed to understand, as his lips crashed into hers yet again, but then they moved down her jaw to her neck, leaving small bites along the way. His hands grabbed at her body, trailing up under her chemise to grab at the soft bare flesh of her ass.

Y/N's hands, however, palmed at the bulge in Sebastian's shorts, earning a low groan from him at his own sensitivity. Sebastian's heart practically skipped a beat as he swallowed Y/N's moans through their locked lips. Her voice was like honey in his ears as he kissed her fiercely. The feeling of her hands and lips on his body drove him wild, especially so when her hands reached for him under his shorts.

His own hands went back to her body, exploring her curves underneath her chemise. This was something that they had both wanted for so long and he couldn't believe that he was finally giving it to her and herself.

"Y/N..." Sebastian moaned, biting the side of her neck.

"Sebastian... Do you want to take charge?"

She punctuated her question with a small bite to his earlobe, and Sebastian took no time in flipping them over to where he was on top of her. His hands unbuttoned the top of her chemise with a clumsy fervor, and he quickly pulled it off of her body.

Y/N was now left completely bare underneath him, save for her stockings. Sebastian pulled back from her neck to absorb the sight before him with his eyes. It was everything he had fantasized about and more. Y/N stared back at him before muttering out nervously:

"Is everything okay? You're staring, do you not like it...?"

Sebastian looked at the object of all his desires, her breathtaking body and her precious face. He couldn't believe that she was his, that she was finally in his arms. He smiled, looking down at her, admiring her beauty.

"Y/N...." Sebastian murmured. "What would possibly make you think that I don't like it? You are everything I have ever wanted. I'm just...amazed by you, that's all."

He looked at her body, his eyes traveling along her curves, taking in every inch of her. He leaned down and gave her another kiss, his hands still exploring the shape of her body. This kiss was warmer and a bit less hungry than the others, and his hands were less rough. He was comforting with his touches, making sure she felt completely comfortable and loved. He was tender and needy at once, and Y/N loved him for it. It reassured her that this isn't the only thing he wants from her.

His hands settled on her chest, kneading and massaging at the mounds of flesh. It was here Y/N could tell how inexperienced Sebastian was, but at least he was trying. He was experimenting with different things to see what she enjoyed. When his thumbs grazed her sensitive buds though, he knew he had figured out something she liked, and that filled him with a bit of pride and confidence. Sebastian was so focused on Y/N's reactions, her sounds of pleasure and her body that it almost took him out of the moment. Seeing her react to his touch filled him with pride and joy.

"Is that good, darling?" he asked gently, slowing his movements. "Should I continue? Do you want me to?"

Sebastian was almost breathing heavy, his heart beating so fast that it felt as though it was about to burst. All he wanted was to hear his lover's soft voice telling him to continue.

"Please..."

Was all Y/N could croak out as she wrapped her legs around his waist. She made every effort to try and steady her breathing as Sebastian tried pleasuring her. During his excursions to the adult section in the Hogsmeade library, Sebastian had read a few of the more saucy romance novels, and attempted to do the things he read about. Because otherwise, he was completely clueless. He knew well enough how to pleasure himself, but to pleasure a woman: that was something foreign. From what he read, he decided to be bold and lean down to run his tongue over her chest, flicking his tongue at the sensitive bud. This got a gasp from Y/N as her eyes fluttered shut, and he took that as a sign to keep going.

"Never stop, Sebastian."

She mewled out at him. With every movement of his tongue, she could feel the growing heat and wetness in her core. Sebastian took extra care to make sure both breasts got an equal amount of love. After a while, he pulled away to look down at her chest. Her buds were now stiff and red from his affection. He took this as a sign to continue with something else. His hand now trailed down her stomach and nestled down at the short bit of hair between her thighs. Sebastian could almost feel the heat radiating from her core, and according to what he read, this was a good thing. Y/N's breathing was ragged and fast as Sebastian explored her nakedness with his hands. She was almost panting as he traced his fingers over her skin, moving slowly down toward her slick slit.

In that moment, Sebastian began to realize how perfect and beautiful Y/N's body was. He could feel her soft and plump legs against his waist as he kissed and licked her thighs. He made sure to touch her in many different areas to see her reactions and find her sweet spots. From what he was doing, Y/N found out that she was particularly sensitive to him biting her inner thighs, which made her let out soft moans. Sebastian had slid down to where his head hovered between her thighs.

His eyes were dripping with lust, but behind that, he was just as clueless as she was about any of this. Sebastian remembered a certain part of his saucy novels that he found quite strange, but he wanted to try. Y/N felt his lips graze against her core, planting a chaste kiss on her sensitive bundle of nerves.

"Sebastian, what are you doing? Isn't it supposed to be you...in me?"

Y/N asked awkwardly. Sebastian chuckled and pulled back to look at her; her innocence and her confusion was so adorable to him. He gently pushed her knees apart as he nestled his head once more between her thighs. His eyes trailed over every inch of her skin as his fingers trailed over her wetness.

Without looking at her, Sebastian replied simply, "I want to taste you, darling. I want you to enjoy this...as much as I am."

Y/N knew somewhat about how sex was supposed to go, but she had never heard about using your mouth on someone. But all the same, it made her shudder and purr when he experimentally licked a long stripe between her folds.

"Merlin's beard, that feels nice... Where did you learn all this?"

Sebastian gave a warm smile, a smile that said 'just trust me'. He was careful to not be too rough, to not go too fast. Y/N was delicate and innocent, he couldn't be too aggressive. Instead, Sebastian focused on pleasing her, on her pleasure, on her reactions.

Sebastian kept it up, licking and exploring. Y/N's words did nothing but add to his lust and desire. This was her body, he could do what he wanted with it, and that made him feel amazing. And it looked as though his lover's pleasure was increasing as well. As Sebastian licked and sucked and even bit sometimes at her sensitive region, the more she felt that familiar knot tighten in her abdomen. Y/N had pleasured herself sometimes during late nights in the Room of Requirement where she had complete privacy, but it was nothing like what Sebastian was doing to her. Her breathing quickened and her hips instinctively ground against his tongue, needing more of his touch. He took the hint and she felt his finger find her entrance, pushing in.

"S-Sebastian, I..."

Sebastian was almost shaking with excitement. This was real...this was the moment that he had been waiting for. And it was so perfect... Y/N's body, her moans, her lustful breath and her expressions... He was loving every moment of this. He pulled back for a moment, looking at her.

"Y/N, would you like me to continue?" Sebastian asked, his voice almost a whisper.

He felt a rush of adrenaline as he looked at Y/N, as if his body was preparing to release everything that it has in it. Her words were stuck in her throat, so she only looked up at him and nodded fervently. On instinct, Y/N brought her knees up to her chest to give Sebastian easier access as he unlaced his shorts. Soon, his length sprung free and stood proud before her, making her eyes widen.

"Merlin, I don't think that's going to go in.."

Sebastian chuckled, and his expression become a warm and tender as he leaned down and gave his love another kiss. The feeling of her soft lips, combined with her sweet and innocent demeanor, was melting his heart.

"Shhh... trust me, Y/N." He whispered.

Sebastian's hand came to rest upon her cheek, and he leaned down onto her once more as he slowly entered her. Even though he took it really slow, Y/N's face still twisted up in pain. She had never put anything in there before, so Sebastian's thickness was especially painful for her. Once he was fully sheathed, he kept still, letting her adjust.

"T-That hurts..."

A tear formed in her eye and her body scrunched up a little. Sebastian could see the tears in her eyes and that made him feel terrible.

"Darling, I'm sorry." He whispered.

He kept still to give her time to adjust, but he was anxious to continue. He just wanted to please her. He gave her a loving kiss on her cheek, letting her know that he still cared.

"Just keep breathing." Sebastian murmured. "Just relax."

Y/N nodded and closed her eyes, taking deep breaths. Slowly, she felt her insides relaxing and opening up more, and the pain grew lesser.

"You can move..."

Her voice was nearly a whisper as she opened her eyes to look at him once more. Sebastian started to move back and forth, slowly and gently. He was careful not to hurt Y/N, making sure to go at her pace and never force her.

"How does that feel, darling?" he whispered.

With every time he pushed in, she felt tingles ripple through her body. It was nice, even though the size of him still hurt a little.

"That feels lovely, Sebastian... Have you done this before?"

That last question sounded anxious, desperate for him to say no. Sebastian hesitated for a second before he spoke.

"No, actually, I've never done this before." He said softly. "Honestly, my heart is racing right now. In a good way, my love."

He slowed his movements to a stop, not able to speak for a moment. He was so focused on Y/N and the way her body felt, and all his anxiousness was washed away by his desire to make her feel good. Noticing that he stopped, Y/N moved her hips against his and opened her legs up more to reassure him that he was doing well, and that she wanted this.

"I've never done this either, but I've thought about us doing it a lot."

She paused, and looked deep in thought for a moment.

"Could you do something for me? It's just something I've pictured..."

Sebastian's heartbeat quickened at her words. "Yes, of course, my love. What do you want me to do?"

Sebastian was curious as to what Y/N wanted. Her thoughts, her feelings -- these were things he had wondered about. And to finally, be able to do exactly what she asked of him... his heart raced in excitement.

"Uhm...could you..."

Y/N looked incredibly nervous and a little ashamed as the words wouldn't exit her throat. Instead, she picked his tie up off of the floor and tied it tightly around her neck, handing him the long end nervously. Sebastian was taken aback. He understood where this was going, but he was still somewhat speechless.

"Are you sure...?" he asked softly, his voice gentle and calm as he took the end of the tie from her hands. "I... I could never do anything you don't want me to do, Y/N."

His breath was ragged as he looked down at her, noticing that her eyes were closed, almost as if in anticipation for his answer.

"I'm sure, just...pull it. Whenever you like."

She bit her lip and looked off to the side, feeling a bit dirty for requesting such a thing, especially for their first time. But on the other hand, she was incredibly eager for him to act out her fantasies with her. Sebastian looked back at his lover, a nervous smile on his face...and then, slowly, he began to pull as his hips snapped against hers once more. He took in her expression and her body's reaction. She seemed to get more excited the tighter he pulled it. His heart pumped faster in his chest, his breathing faster, and he closed his eyes to experience the moment.

He could feel that Y/N was very close to her release and he continued to pull, his mind in a daze. It was as if he was in his own little world, completely oblivious to anything and anyone else but her. As Sebastian started moving in and out of her once again, her gaze met his once more. Her eyelids were heavy and her breath was hot, just as she always had been while in her bed when she pleasured herself as she thought about him. Soon, he sped up with his movements, his length massaging her walls. The hand that wasn't holding the tie rested on her breast, kneading it and thumbing at her sensitive bud. Y/N's moans grew steadily louder and her legs wrapped around his waist once again, pulling him closer to her.

"Sebastian, I... I love you..."

A harsher wave of pleasure washed over Sebastian. He was overwhelmed with emotion, with love, with affection, as his body moved in tune to Y/N's. Her words washed over him like a warm embrace, wrapping him in a blanket of passion as she pulled him closer. Their lips met in a soft and tender kiss as Sebastian moved even faster, his breath hot and his mind lost in the thrill and enjoyment of the moment. He had never felt this way before... His heart was beating out of his chest and his body was shaking with emotion. He felt like he could cry and laugh at the same time. After their admission of love to each other, Sebastian's pace rapidly increased and he got rougher with her, the both of them overcome with need. The sound of skin slapping on skin reverberated throughout the Undercroft, and only added to their arousal.

Sebastian leaned down to Y/N's neck and left a harsh bite, chewing and sucking at her soft skin to leave a bruise. The hand that was on her breast traveled down to her abdomen, feeling her stomach bulge up slightly every time he pushed in. Sebastian's kisses got more passionate as he got rougher with Y/N. His hands went exploring as he looked for somewhere to leave his mark on her. He sucked aggressively at her neck, biting into her flesh and marking her with his lips so that everyone could know who she belongs to.

His free hand trailed lower and lower until he managed to find the spot that he was looking for. The feeling of his teeth grinding into her skin and his cock quickly pushing in and out of her sent Y/N into absolute overdrive. It didn't take long at all for her to melt into a panting, moaning mess underneath Sebastian. Her hands grabbed at his shoulders and back, leaving long claw marks that would definitely last a few days. That oh-so familiar knot started tightening in her stomach, and she knew she was close to her release.

"Mm, Sebastian, I... I-I'm gonna..."

Sebastian's heart was pounding out of his chest at this point. His breathing was ragged and his eyes were almost glazed over. He could picture those claw marks that would be left on his body and his mind was filled with a fiery excitement.

"Yes, my love, let it out." He whispered, his voice low with lust. "Give into it, darling."

The pure obsession and desire that laced Sebastian's voice was all she needed to reach her breaking point. Y/N's body seized up, her back arched, and she let out a long, loud squeal as her walls clamped around his length. Sebastian felt Y/N's insides gripping him tightly and his body started shaking violently. He felt every last bit of his release and it was more than he could've ever imagined it being.

"Y/N..." He groaned, his eyes rolling back from pleasure. He was out of breath, his heart pumping like crazy.

"That...oh my gods..." he muttered. He could feel her claws digging into his flesh even harder.

"That was so good." He sighed.

Y/N purred at the feeling of his fluids painting her insides, and as soon as he stopped, she relaxed and looked up at him with so much love and need that it made his heart melt. Sebastian soon laid on top of her out of exhaustion, his head resting on her chest. Sebastian kept his body tight against Y/N's, feeling safe and content. His chest rose and fell quickly - he could feel his heart still pounding in his ears.

Slowly, he turned his head to look at her face. He wanted to remember every detail about this moment: every feature on her face, every single expression that she made. He smiled softly as his eyes drifted lower and he traced one of the scratches she had left on his arm with his fingers.

"That...was amazing." He whispered.

"You are amazing, Sebastian."

Y/N smiled warmly at him and played with his messy hair, some of which now stuck to his face from how sweaty they were. And when he smiled back at her...she nearly fell in love with him all over again. The way his freckles looked, the way his eyes smiled as well...it was absolutely precious.

"And you are absolutely beautiful, Y/N."

Sebastian's breath was coming in warm puffs as he looked into her eyes. He felt a surge of emotion and was tempted to give her another kiss.

"I'm so in love with you, Y/N." He whispered, softly tracing her cheek with his fingertips.

"And to think... I almost didn't meet you tonight." She was so special to him; without her, he might not have known what love truly is.

"I'm glad that we're together..."

"I want us to be together. Officially. I want everyone to know."

Sebastian said, a grin spreading across his face and a fire roaring in his eyes. His head rested on her chest once more as they both just basked the afterglow. That was, until they came back to the reality that the Undercroft got particularly cold in the wintertime. The pair sat up and stretched a bit before Y/N spoke:

"Maybe we should get dressed and go let Anne know we aren't dead."

"Oh, I forgot we were in here." Sebastian replied, nodding as he noticed that it was cold.

"Alright then." He stood up and reached down to help her up. "Let me give you a kiss first, before we go back to looking respectable, darling."

He bent down, meeting her lips with his own as his hands gripped her hips. Once he had finished, all that was left was a red mark on Y/N's neck -- it would have certainly given away their activities. Y/N giggled, knowing that she had equally marked him by clawing his back. The two quickly pulled their clothes back on and made themselves presentable once again.

"Oh Merlin, I've never felt like this before."

She couldn't resist pulling Sebastian into a tight hug before the two exited the Undercroft. Sebastian sighed, still reeling from the experience, trying to make sense of the feelings he had.

"Nor have I." Sebastian replied, looking down at Y/N with loving eyes. "I wish I knew how I could make you feel this way all the time."

When the two reentered the Dark Arts tower, their faces were flushed and their hair was still disheveled. They knew it was late, due to the now golden light pouring through the large windows, but neither of them really cared at that moment. They had each other's love, and that was all that mattered. And to Sebastian, it was definitely worth running a marathon around the halls of Hogwarts for.

=====♡=====

maybe a part 2 if yall want, idk?

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #hp #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x reader #Sebastian sallow smut

[jo6hny]

Graham - Hazel Callahan

Pairing: College! Hazel Callahan x College! Reader 

Contains: FLUFF, idiots in love, but i'm a cheerleader references, friends to lovers

Word Count: 2.16K

Summary: based off this request.

A/N: I kinda don't like this omg. anon please forgive me i tried my best :< i might revisit this fic if i get motivated sooo

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The atmosphere of Hazel’s dorm room was cozy. Not because it was small, but because it was home to all of her crazy and wonderful belongings. From your line of sight, you could see her skateboard propped against her drawer which was filled to the brim. Hazel’s room was a reflection of who she was. You could determine what kind of person she is just by looking at the state of her room. The thought made you giggle. 

“What are you thinking of?” Hazel asks as she untangles her hold from you. Both of you were laying down on her bed, arms and legs previously tangled. 

You shake your head. “It was nothing, really.” 

“Tell me.” She muttered, poking your belly over and over again. This elicits laughter from you as the ticklish sensation takes over your senses. 

“Alright, okay!” You exclaimed, catching your breath. “I was just thinking about your dorm room.” 

She raises her eyebrows at you. 

“And what about it?” 

“Well,” You start, waving your hands around. “It’s very you.”  

Hazel frowns at your admission. She didn’t quite get what you meant by that. You admire her as she contemplates on what to say next. You notice the freckles on her face, how it only appeared in the sunlight. How her hands were bruised. From fixing her skateboard, probably. How her hair looked like it had a life of its own whenever she laid down. 

“Anyway,” You interrupt her train of thought. “I have to go.” 

The brunette pouts and envelopes you into another hug. She smelled good. Like clean soap and laundry. She wasn’t wearing her signature citrus scented perfume today. This made you appreciate the hug more. You could feel your heart pound against your chest at the feeling of your best friend nuzzling her nose on the crook of your neck. 

“Hazel.” You whined, though you weren’t doing anything to let go of her. 

The brunette whines in retaliation. 

“Fine.” She huffs, loosely letting you go. 

You turn to her and envelope her face in your hands. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” You ask, your tone of voice sweet and caring. 

She nods, her eyes still full of sorrow at your departure. 

“Yeah.” She replies, sitting up so that you two were level. “Okay, I lo-” 

The brunette stops herself from finishing the sentence. Hazel bites her tongue and feels her heart pounding. She almost slipped up. 

“What?” You interrupt, eyebrows furrowing and pulse thumping. 

“I’ll text you.” She blurts out, avoiding your gaze. “That’s what I meant.” 

You nod, seemingly speechless. 

“Okay.” 

Hazel gets out of bed and takes your hand to escort you out of her room but not before giving you a hug again. 

“Bye, pretty. Text me when you get to your dorms, ‘kay?” She mumbles, nuzzling her nose on the crook of your shoulder as to memorize your scent. 

────────────────────────────────────────────

Back at your dorm room, your mind was occupied at Hazel’s almost admittance of her love for you. Well, at least that's what you thought you heard. I mean, how many sentences sound as close to “I love you” anyway? The thought made you feel crazy. It wasn’t like it would be the first time you’ve admitted your love for each other, anyway. Though the declarations of love you two shared was strictly platonic. That is until you both got closer to each other, when the both of you started playing between the lines of friends and lovers. 

Nowadays, neither of you uttered the L word. Not when the both of you had feelings on the line. And you weren’t delusional either. You knew that Hazel felt as much for you as you did her. She wasn’t as touchy or as sweet to her other friends as she was with you. No, only you knew about her and saw her at her most vulnerable. This to you was an admittance of her attraction to you. She didn’t need to say it, at least not now. You didn’t want to rush the girl either. It was better that she’d admitted it on her own. 

You do admit though, that you’d like to take control of the narrative sometimes. Just confess and have things over with. You dream of what it would be like to stop tiptoeing between the lines. You dream of tasting her lips and you wonder how well they’d fit with yours. You dream of molding your being with hers and finally feeling complete for once in your life. But you respected Hazel’s boundaries. Especially since PJ broke her heart. For now, you could only dream and be satisfied with what you had because something was better than nothing. 

Just then, your phone dings and reveals a message from Hazel herself. 

Girl Oppenheimer: i miss u already :< 

You: I lit rally just left, haze. 

Girl Oppenheimer: can’t a girl miss her bestfriend who’s also her almost girl? 

Your heart jumps at Hazel’s last message. She was teasing, something that she did often. Both of you would call each other girlfriends and wives but never fully face the exterior of your feelings with each other. 

You: no <33 

You: now stop bothering me pls i’m busy studying 

You weren’t. But you couldn’t keep on talking to her right now. Especially after she called you her girl. It affected you more than it usually would have. Probably because you were deep in your feelings a couple of minutes ago. 

Girl Oppenheimer: meanie :< we’re still on for tom tho ryt? 

You: ofc! 

Girl Oppenheimer: yay!!! see u <33 

Throwing your phone across your bed, you sigh. There was no doubt that your heart harbored love for the brunette. Love that was bigger than your heart and deeper than your soul. The desire to be with Hazel was strong and it’s gotten to the point that you’ve tried all sorts of hijinks just for things to get faster. Manifesting, praying, you name it. But at the end of the day, you respect her even if she frustrates the shit out of you sometimes. 

The next day went by smoothly, much to your delight. You’d thought that the day would have been difficult seeing as how you felt lethargic after all the overthinking last night. Lucky for you though, the day was too busy and you didn’t have the time to think about yours and Hazel’s complicated relationship. That is until the time for you two to meet came. It’s supposed to be just a regular hangout. Nothing special. Well, it was special to you because it meant hanging around your “lover”. You and Hazel have this thing where you pick out the dumbest and campiest movies on whatever streaming platform and spend the day just laughing. It was a simple movie night shared between good friends. 

Tonight, the both of you settled on watching “But I’m A Cheerleader”, a lesbian cult classic. The both of you watched this movie countless times before but never got tired of it. Safe to say that it’s a shared favorite between the two of you. Aside from this, you also loved teasing Hazel and how she looked a lot like Clea Duvall’s character, Graham. Except that Graham was way cooler than Hazel. 

“I'm Graham, and I like girls, a lot.”

“Hey, it’s you.” You teased Hazel as Graham appeared on the screen. 

“I do not look like her!” She protested, bumping her shoulder against yours. The two of you were huddled on her tiny dorm bed, with her laptop on your laps. Snacks were already eaten before the movie even started. This was how it usually went between you two. It was like a tradition. 

“Hey. Clea Duvall is hot. Why are you so offended?” You reply, bumping her back. Hazel looks at you with a hint of mischief in her eyes. 

“Do you think I'm hot?” She retaliates, moving her face closer to yours. She didn’t know where she got the confidence to do such a thing but watching Graham’s character be all confident and cocky had her thinking that if she acted the same, things would progress better between the two of you. 

Hazel blames herself for many things. Fucking her relationship up with PJ (not that she wanted her back), crashing her car on a tree, and being such a slowpoke when it came to your relationship. It wasn’t like she didn’t want you. She did, badly. But she’d made the mistake of telling you all about how hard it was to move on from her ex and it scared you away. On top of that, she also hates how awkward and dorky she can get whenever she senses you making a move on her. Which is why she’s decided that tonight was the night. No more dancing around. Tonight she wasn’t Hazel Callahan, she was Graham and she would make her yours. Or at least try to. 

“What’s gotten into you?” You ask, suddenly feeling flustered. 

Hazel took this as an opportunity to wrap her arms around you and pull you closer to her. 

The brunette shrugs. “Nothing, I just..wanted to know if you found me hot?” 

You scoff. 

“Of course I do.” You mumble, barely audible.

“I-I find you hot too.” Hazel stutters. She wanted the ground to eat her up right then and there. That was so uncool of her. 

You giggle at her failed attempt at being Graham-like. 

“You know I don’t mean it when I say that you’re like Graham, right?” 

The blue eyed girl shrugs. Her cheeks are heating up as she feels your hand fiddling with your hair. This was something you did when you were deep in thought. 

“Okay,” You add, wrapping your arms around Hazel as well so that both of you were in a hug. “Well, I think you’re cooler than her and I like you better.” 

“You like me?” 

Giving her a smile, you reply. “Of course I do.” 

“No, like..” She interjects, trying to make her point across. “Like like” 

“Like like?” You answer, heart beating louder than usual. This was it. The both of you are being forced to face the music. Lesbian romcom in the background ignored. 

The brunette nods. Mouth unable to conjure up words. The last of her confidence was long gone, but she wanted you more than ever. She was tired of feeling so scared. She was tired of not loving you with her whole heart. She wanted to be able to scream out how much she loved you without shame. Hazel knew in her heart that she’s fully capable of loving you now more than ever. 

You smile at your lover and scoot closer as you plant a soft kiss on her cheek. 

“I love you.” You whisper, staring into her blue eyes. There was no turning back from this. The friendship you cultivated for years is gone as you bare your heart. 

One breath and then two breaths and then three. Your words seemed to hang in the air around the both of you. 

“You don’t have to say it back, though!” You exclaim, flailing your arms around. Fearing that a mistake has been made, you scoot away from Hazel which made her scoot closer to you. 

“No!” She interjects, pulling you closer. “I love you too!” 

“What?” You ask, eyebrows furrowed. “No you don’t. What?” 

“What?” 

You shake your head as if to restart your mind and rid it of the jumbled words forming. 

“I mean, you do? I just can’t believe it is all.” 

Hazel nods, she seemed lost in whatever was happening. You felt the need to clear things up but you were lost too. This wasn’t how you envisioned things to be. Not in her dorm room, not with a stupid movie in the background playing, and certainly not with all the awkwardness. You’d envisioned things to have been more romantic; put together. But then again, the situation perfectly encapsulates Hazel and you. Awkward, weird, but ultimately charming. 

“I do.” She replies, hugging you tighter. “And I’m sure of it. Just in case you were wondering.” 

“I wasn’t…but thanks?” You wrap your arms back around her. The two of you are closer than ever and it feels just right. 

“It’s just,” She starts, racking her brain for what to say. “I know we’ve been having this weird situation and I wanted you to know that I’m completely over my ex and that I’m not stringing you along or anything like that and that my feeling for you is-” 

You cut her off, lips on hers. She tasted sweet, like the candy she ate before the movie started. And her lips were soft and plush. You couldn’t get enough and it seemed like she didn’t either. The movie was long forgotten as the both of you exchanged the enthusiasm of liplocking. 

“I love you.” Hazel said for extra measure. 

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. “I love you too, Haze.” 

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tags: @academiareid @fictionalgap

#can you tell that i'm a pjhazel hater #no i will not elaborate #bottoms 2023 #hazel bottoms #hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan #bottoms imagine #bottoms movie #hazel callahan fanfiction #hazel callahan imagine #fanfic #lgbtq

[leejihoonownsmyheart]

The Heat of the Moment

Warnings: Dubcon. Like it’s all consensual, they both want it, but it’s not as thoroughly expressed as it could be. Just BE AWARE it is DUB.

Also I didn't like super duper edit this because i'm sick and fuck that, I'm on the precipice of irrelevancy I have to act.

Tags: Angry!yn, big dick!jun, size kink cause it’s unrealistic, lots of teasing from jun, jun’s a dom I think, brat!yn? I don’t really know how to tag this one. Creampie, cunnilingus, yn is a bit dramatic

-

You were angry.

No... Angry didn’t even begin to cover the emotions that you were currently feeling. You were furious. Furious because it turned out the two people that you trusted the most in the world were rooting for you to fail.

Because why else would your best friend and the guy that you were madly in love with be at the movies together right now? Why else would neither of them be answering your messages? Why else would you be sitting on the stoop of Jun’s apartment’s front door, waiting for him to get back just so that you could yell at him?

Cause, no, they had to be rooting for you to fail. They had to be plotting something behind your back, because if they weren’t then you were just crazy.

And someone who was crazy couldn’t reasonably be this angry.

“Y/n?”

You looked up glad to finally see the person you had been waiting for walking up to you. It was a bit annoying to have to smile and pretend like nothing was up every time Jun’s neighbor Marlene insisted that you come inside for some tea while you waited for him when you were this angry.

“Wen Junhui,” you hissed back, scrambling to your feet. Jun had looked a bit confused walking up, but upon registering your anger he had the audacity to let a small smile press onto his lips. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for you?”

Jun hummed, and looked down at his phone, flashing it towards you with the hand that wasn’t holding the lanyard with his keys on it that hung from the other.

“Considering the missed calls... About an hour?”

He closed the distance between you two. Clearly not scared by your anger and tapped you lightly on your head.

“Do you want to come in?”

YOu scoffed at his audacity.

“Are you serious right now?” You asked him. He walked past you, and you stomped up his apartment stairs behind him, waiting impatiently for him to let you into his apartment. Once his door was unlocked you were pushing through it before him, kicking off your shoes.

“How was the movie?” You asked him, crossing your arms across your chest as you glared him down. He barely paid any attention to you. He patiently hung up his keys and organized your shoes next to his on his shoe rack. Then he walked past you and into the kitchen.

“The movie was okay,” he said. “Do you want some water?”

“No, I don’t want your stupid water Jun. I wanted you to spend time with me today,” you replied, but the heat did not die with the admittance.

You weren’t positive... But you were pretty sure that Jun liked you. In the same way that you liked him. After all, beside Haruno he was the only one who humored your fits of anger. He was one of the few people who didn’t completely derail your anger. He let you talk.

“I thought you were busy,” Jun said, and the honesty in his voice was annoying so your next words were a bit immature.

“Fuck you.”

Jun’s eyebrows rose slightly at your words. He sighed, and gave you a serious expression.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Like always he was right. Your anger towards him was a bit misplaced. You had a shitty week. You were tired. Haruno and your schedules weren’t lining up. And stupid Jun hadn’t hung out with you all week.

But he was here now, and you could tell he was going to listen so you started to tell him everything that went wrong, and did your best to half-heartedly tie it back to him somehow so that it would seem better that you were ranting about nonsense to him even though you both knew that he just wanted to be there for you.

Jun let you talk for an hour, you standing there in his living room, him standing in his kitchen listening to you. Then he let you talk for another hour, moving to be closer to you, and then he let you talk for one more hour before suddenly he was very close to you.

You tried to ignore it, focusing on being angry. He let another thirty minutes pass.

“I’m…” You hesitated as Jun’s hand slipped under the hem of your shirt. Confusion flashed through your eyes, but Jun was looking at you so attentively, as if he was listening to your every word. As if he wasn’t touching you at all. “I’m still mad at you Jun. You chose to hang out with Haruno over me.”

Jun nodded, a hum vibrating through his throat. You pressed your lips together in annoyance.

“Are you even listening to me?” You demanded. Jun nodded again, that serious expression still spread on his face.

“Of course, I am,” he promised, but as he spoke another hand was sneaking under your shirt, his fingers grasping at your hips. You decided to ignore the touches, the pit of your chest still boiling after all.

“It’s serious,” you reasserted. “You told me that you wanted to hang out with me. You told me that I was important. But then you cancelled last minute-”

“You never actually planned anything out with me,” Jun reminded you. “You just said you wanted to hang out. Haruno made actual plans with me.”

“You knew I wanted to hang out,” you insisted. “You just chose to ignore it.”

As you spoke the tips of Jun’s fingers dipped under the waistband of your pants. Again, you let your confusion show and again Jun was acting as if nothing was out of the ordinary. Whatever.

“And then you ignored my texts when you were hanging out with her,” you continued to berate.

“We were watching a movie,” Jun replied, his voice so soothing that it was honestly beginning to dissipate your anger and that made you even angrier.

“And so, you couldn’t pick up your phone?”

“We were in a theater,” Jun explained. You furrowed your eyebrows at him.

“So you go to the bathroom,” you grumbled. Jun’s expression softened.

“I’m sorry y/n, that must have been so frustrating,” he said, and even though his tone was sincere, his words bothered you.

“It was frustrating. It’s so hard to get you to just spend time…” You trailed off as Jun’s thumbs brushed over your hip bones. “What are you doing?”

Jun’s expression was practically unreadable.

“Do you not like it?”

You pressed your lips together.

“I just…” You weren’t sure what to say. “I’m mad at you.”

“Okay,” Jun agreed, his fingers still brushing your skin soothingly. “So, you don’t want me touching you?”

You weren’t uncomfortable. Just confused.

“I… I don’t mind,” you admitted. “I’m just, really mad at you.”

“But you’re okay with me touching you?” He repeated. You felt aggravation rising in your throat.

“Yes, I’m okay with you touching me,” you mumbled. “Why would I care?”

Jun hummed, shrugging.

“Just wondering... For the same reason that I’m wondering why you care so much about me hanging out with Haruno over you?”

As Jun spoke he started to run his knuckles lightly up and down your sides under your shirt. You thought surely he could feel the way your body was burning under his touch, but you were really hoping that he would just think you were hot.

His hands were cool, and it just made you crave his touch that much more. It was like he was literally cooling your body down. He had no right to be so soothing.

“It’s just because you should have been hanging out with me,” you mumbled back. Jun’s lips were spread out in a large smile.

“Yeah? How come?” He pressed.

“Because why wouldn’t you be?” You snapped back. You raised your hands to Jun’s shoulders, squeezing them as you glared at him. “Why do you ever hang out with anyone who isn’t me?”

As you spoke your voice grew quieter, whinier. You didn’t mean it really... And you knew that Jun knew you didn’t really mean it either.

“It kinda sounds like you...” He trailed off, his smile growing. “Oh, no surely that’s not it.”

Your eyes narrowed at him.

“Surely what’s not it?” You pressed. Jun shrugged.

“Nothing,” he  , his hands slipped out from under your shirt and without really thinking about it you grabbed his wrists.

“What are you doing?” You blurted. You immediately regretted speaking and grabbing him.

“I was just going to stretch,” Jun said innocently. “You’re being a little clingy, you want me to touch you that badly?”

You couldn’t help it but his comment reminded you that you were mad at him.

“Yeah, I want you to touch me that badly,” you snapped. “You think you can just... Just touch my sides and say stupid things, and be... Stupid and not expect me to want you to keep touching me?”

You guided Jun’s hands back to your sides, hoping that his fingertips would cool you down again. Jun obediently squeezed your sides and slid his fingers down your hips further.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his tone oozing fake pity. “You’re so hot y/n. You know what would make you feel better?”

You tried to keep your breathing even as Jun’s fingers slid across the waistband of your pants. His fingers flickered over the button of your pants.

“If you took some stuff off,” he replied, his voice soft. “I could help you.”

Your face was even redder, your hands still on Jun’s wrists. You squeezed his wrists, your mind racing.

What was he trying to say? What was he insinuating?

The heat in your body was coiling into your stomach, your core beginning to burn as his fingers brushed against you.

“I mean...” You trailed off. “I am really hot.”

Your eyes flickered away from Jun’s even though he wasn’t looking at your face. He was looking down at his hands.

“You think you could cool me off?” You asked. Jun’s eyes darted up to your briefly.

“I know I can.”

“OKay,” you mumbled. “You should... You should help me get my clothes off.”

Jun’s fingers immediately flicked your button loose of your pants, one of his hands holding your pants up as he slowly unzipped your pants with the other. As he did so his eyes stayed on your face, watching you presumably for any sign of your discomfort.

Not noticing any regret on your face, Jun hooked his fingers in the bands of your pants and slowly pulled them down your legs. As he pulled them down, he lowered himself down your body. Once he was on his knees, he dipped his head beneath the hem of your shirt, raising his hands to the small of your back and pressing a small kiss to the top of your naval.

A shiver wracked through your body, and you grabbed Jun’s shoulders, squeezing them lightly.

“You seem like you’re cooling off,” Jun said against your stomach, and you could feel the smile on his lips. His hands dragged across your hips, his thumbs hooking on the hem of your underwear.

A whimper ripped through your body, which you just muffled by slapping your hand over your face.

“You’re so pretty y/n,” Jun mumbled against you. “Do you want me to show you just how pretty you are?”

“Would’ve shown me if you had hung out with me the other day,” you blurted back. Jun laughed against you, and his hands slid up your sides, bunching your shirt up your body. You took your shirt in your hands and lifted it over your head, letting it fall to the ground. Jun looked up at you from your stomach, his hands lowering back down, hands rubbing over the curve of your covered ass.

“I’m sorry y/n,” Jun said, his voice full of that mocking sincerity all over again. “If I could go back I wouldn’t hang out with Haruno. I would have skipped the movie and thrown pebbles at your window in the pouring rain.”

“It wasn’t even raining,” you grumbled back. Jun’s lips broke into the smile that told you that he was teasing you.

“I would’ve made it rain if that would have made you happy,” he promised you. You glared down at him, but as you did his fingers slid down to grip your thighs, his thumb running along the fabric of your panties. You bit down on the palm of your hand.

“You’re still hot aren’t you? Getting better but still burning,” he mumbled, he lowered his gaze down to where his fingers were running over you, his thumb rubbing lightly over your slit.

“You feel really hot right... Here,” Jun whispered, his thumb ran over your core and he pressed his thumb between your clothed folds. “And so wet... You’re practically dripping through your panties.”

“I’m not-”

As you spoke Jun pushed his thumb deeper inside of you, pressing the fabric into you with him. A moan vibrated through your body but you suppressed it as best as you could.

“I’m gonna fuck you y/n,” Jun said softly. Your eyes widened a little, and you bit down harder on your hand, surely leaving imprints on your palm. “’s that okay? Do you want me to fuck you?”

“I-I’m mad at you,” you managed to get out.

Jun hummed, and let silence fill the room. He wasn’t moving, you weren’t moving. He was just waiting for you to give him a real answer. You felt hot, and you weren’t sure what it was from. Anger, attraction, or embarrassment.

“Want you to fuck me, Jun,” you finally got out.

“That’s what I like to hear.”

Jun slid up your body, wrapping his hands around your neck so that he could press a kiss firmly to your lips. As he kissed you, he slowly began to walk you backwards until the back of your knees hit the couch. Jun’s thumb brushed over your throat as he kissed you, making it just that much harder to breathe.

A small whine vibrated through your body, making Jun pull back. His fingers rose a little, the tip of his thumb pressing into your mouth just breath enough to get it it wet. Before you could say anything, Jun was pushing you down into the couch.

He lowered himself down to his knees and dragged your underwear slowly off of your body. As he did so you hid your face behind the back of your hand, trying not to be so embarrassed.

The look on your face only made Jun’s face contort into a sympathetic expression.

“You still mad?” He asked you. Your eyes fluttered shut in frustration.

“Gonna be...” You mumbled back.

“Can I tell you how perfect you look first?” Jun asked, and before you could tell him no because of course that would ruin your anger, his fingers were prodding at your wet folds. “Cause you do look so perfect.”

His fingers gathered wetness by gliding between your folds, lightly teasing your hole with his index finger. He slid his fingers back up, teasingly circling your clit.

“You’re already so wet,” he mumbled. “Practically dripping. Is this all for me?”

“It’s just cause I’m mad,” you bit out from beneath your hand. As you started to speak, Jun pinched your clit, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. A yelp turned into a moan which you cut with a bite to your hand.

“Oh? So, you don’t want me to fuck you,” Jun mumbled. He began to pull away from you but you reached down quickly, your fingers lightly tugging at the strands of his hair.

“I mean...” You tried to push down your desperation, but it was obvious in the way you pulled at his hair. “You’re already down there you might as well stay.”

“So, you want me to keep going,” Jun mumbled. “You want me to fuck you.”

You nodded, but Jun’s fingers didn’t return to you. Your frustration was undeniable.

“Say it,” Jun mumbled softly. You groaned.

“I want you to fuck me,” you blurted out. One of Jun’s hands pressed down on your inner thigh, and he eased his middle finger into you. It dragged another whine out of your mouth, and you had to pull one of your hands out of Jun’s hair to cover your face again.

“’S funny that you want to cover your face so badly,” Jun mumbled. “You usually want people to hear you.”

Jun began to slowly work his middle finger in and out of you, ignoring the way that you were wiggling underneath him.

“Come on y/n,” he urged. “Let me hear you. I love your voice.”

You bit down harder on your hand, determined not to let him hear you.

Jun slipped a second finger into you, scissoring his fingers once he was knuckles deep inside of you.

“You’re going to hurt yourself,” Jun cooed. “Why don’t you just let me make you feel good? You know how much I like you don’t you?”

You shook your head against your hand.

“I really, really like you, y/n,” Jun mumbled softly. He leaned forward, his breath ghosted over your clit, making a shiver rip through your body. “I like everything about you. You’re so perfect.”

“You think I’m a hot head,” you blurted out in protest. A laugh went through Jun’s body.

“That’s not true,” he replied. He pressed a kiss to your clit which had you thrusting your hips up for more friction. Jun pressed hard on your thigh, keeping you pressed down. “I think that you get passionate about a lot of things.”

“That’s a nice way to say that someone’s a hot head,” you mumbled back. “I know how everyone sees me. Think I get mad over nothing.”

“I think you get mad for good reason,” Jun murmured back. He pressed another finger into you making another gasp rip through you. “I envy you in a way. Never let anyone wrong you without letting them know how you feel. Not a lot of people can do that.”

He scissored his fingers deep into you, dragging any words that you could muster to say right out of you. “I like that you get mad about things,” he reiterated. “And I like how loud you are about it. It’s good to have a strong opinion.”

“J-Jun,” left your mouth before you could stop it. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do mean it,” Jun murmured back. “And I’m willing to prove it to you.”

He pulled his fingers out of you and slipped them into his mouth, a moan vibrated through his body.

“You taste so good,” he said around his fingers. He pulled them out of his mouth and dropped his hands down to his pants, unbuckling them. “I would rather hang out with you over Haruno any day.”

You wanted to negate what he was saying but just as you went to, he was dropping his pants to the ground. Your jaw dropped a little and you pressed your thighs together at the side of Jun. His dick was huge. Why was his dick huge?

It was thick and long and-

“That’s not going to fit,” you blurted before you could stop yourself. You pressed the palm of your hand harder against your mouth, willing yourself to be quiet. Jun’s smile just grew.

“It’ll fit,” he promised you. “I’ll make it fit.”

One of Jun’s hands came to your hips, and his thumb rubbed a comforting circle into your skin.

“That okay? You wanna see if I can make it fit?”

He pressed his knee between yours. Your eyes fluttered shut and you raised your other hand to your face, feeling the heat on your fingertips.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” Jun reminded you softly. “I’m not trying to force you to do anything. I-”

Before Jun could continue you let your thighs spread just enough to allow him enough space to push between them.

“Shut up already, I thought you were gonna make it fit? Can’t make it fit if you just keep standing there yabbering on about if I really want it or-”

“Y/n,” he interrupted. “Just need some real consent.”

As he spoke he pressed closer to you, the tip of his cock dipping between your wet folds, his head teasing your entrance.

“Want you to fuck me,” you blurted back. “Just do it already, Jun.”

Jun began to slowly press himself into you, his hands coming to either side of your body on the couch.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you blurted, your hands darted up, coming to either sides of Jun’s neck. You squeezed at the base as his cock slid slowly into you, the stretch sending a burn through your body. “Jun, oh my god.”

Jun’s own eyes fluttered shut, and he stopped pushing in. For a second you thought that he had finally gotten completely inside of you, but then you glanced down and he was barely halfway inside. You whined, wrapping your legs around his waist, making him slide a bit further into you even though right now he was trying not to.

“How the fuck, are you so fucking big?” you bit out, feeling tears begin to sprout at the edge of your eyes. “You’re fucking... You’ve got so much. Fucked plenty of guys who aren’t nearly as big as you and you know that was just-”

Jun interrupted you with a laugh, raising one of his hands to your cheek. His thumb brushed the corner of your eye, gathering some of the wetness and brushing it away.

“’s better to rip off the bandaid,” Jun said, but even as he spoke he didn’t move, letting you adjust to his length... and subsequent width. A burn was spreading through your body, but you ignored it, your fingers pulling at his shirt. You two were silent, the only thing to be heard were both of your heavy pants. Jun broke the silence. “You okay?”

“Shut up,” you mumbled, wiggling your hips, urging Jun further into you. His eyebrow rose slightly at your silent urging.

“Stop being a brat,” he murmured, as if he wasn’t the fucking king of being a brat. “Just ask for what you want.”

A pout pressed across your face.

“You know what I want,” you mumbled. There was no amusement on Jun’s face. “Gimme more.”

Your eyes flitted to the side, your face burning red. “I can take it.”

Jun’s lips flickered up into a brief smile, he pressed further into you, his hands lowering down your body, his fingers tightening on your hips. You could tell that he was fighting the urge to go crazy. You could feel the hesitation as he eased himself into you, his fingers tightening the further that he pushed into you until finally you felt a slightly more extreme stretch as he came to a stop in front of you.

Your fingers had trailed down to his biceps, and you squeezed them tightly.

“Oh god f-finally,” you were able to get out. “’s s-so much Jun.”

“I know,” Jun agreed softly, his voice muddled in pleasure. “I know it’s a lot. Is it too much?”

You shook your head in negation but even as you did you were pulling yourself up (subsequently Jun down) and you were burying your face in his neck, trying to hide your heavy breaths. You felt his throat vibrate a little in what you equated as amusement.

“You’re so fucking cocky,” you mumbled. “Just cause your dick is in me-”

Jun began to slide his cock out of you without warning, a half moan, half mewl ripped itself out of your body. You pressed your lips together hard to stop the noise, pushing your nose harder into Jun’s neck.

“I don’t have that much self-control y/n,” Jun replied, sounding wrecked. “Is it too much?”

The implication was fucking killing you. The subsequent stretch of being stuffed full and stretched to an extreme extent by Jun’s cock was fading from your brain, replaced instead by the imagery of Jun pounding you in a way that you could only imagine that he wanted to.

“It’s not too much,” you insisted softly. You pressed yourself back, your face still burning. “You don’t need to hold back anymore; I can take it.”

Jun immediately rose his hands to your biceps, pressing your body down as he slowly pushed himself back into you. He pushed past the point where you physically felt like you wouldn’t be able to take anymore, but instead of making you wriggle in pain you were moaning in pleasure.

You couldn’t help it, you felt like you were completely stuffed with him but it felt so good, and Jun’s own moans was only pushing the pleasure more prominently through your body.

“O-oh, f-fuck, J-jun,” you stammered out. Jun grunted pushing you more firmly down as he pulled back out again. He began to set a pace, that wasn’t exactly even. His thrusts were clearly just chasing a high. He was gaining pleasure just from being inside you and he was riding that high as far as it would take him.

You couldn’t help the loud pants and whimpers that were leaving your lips and Jun seemed to be taking delight in it. His lips pressed into a focused smile and he adjusted himself so that his hands had slipped under your head, his fingers threading into your hair, and his lips bumping against yours.

“You sound so fucking good,” Jun mumbled. “Always love everything that leaves your mouth but this? Nothing tops it. Nothing tops how good you sound with my cock stuffed inside of you, moaning my name...”

He was mostly rambling at this point, his lips pressing to yours every once in a while so that he could practically swallow your moans from within his distracting kisses. At the switch of position his thrusts became harder, shaking your body with each thrust. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, trying to center yourself but being completely unable to do so.

“You feel so good,” Jun continued against your lips, inbetween those suffocating kisses. He lowered one of his hands down to your clit. “So, warm and wet all for me huh?”

“It’s n-not-”

Jun didn’t let you finish that sentence. Another suffocating kiss, dragging the lie right from your lips.

“Try again,” Jun mumbled, and the words were making his tone turn different. Whiney. “Tell me the truth, that you’re all warm and wet for me. You don’t get like this for anyone else I know you don’t.”

You whined your protest, trying to avoid having to admit something so embarrassing.

“Tell me you like me,” he pressed. “Tell me about how much you’ve been wanting me.”

You thought maybe if you stayed quiet, he would forget the question. He snapped his hips into you, forcing his cock deeper in you than it had reached before.

“I-I-” You struggled to find your words. “’s all for you.”

“Mmm, you’re just saying that,” Jun pressed, that twinge of whininess coming through at the very end. He was just pressing because he wanted to hear it. He pulled back and his thrusts stopped momentarily. He sat up and grabbed you by your hips, dragging you against him, forcing his cock impossibly deep inside of you, the stretch burning through your body in such a good way. “Why don’t you tell me the truth.”

One of his hands dug into your thigh, while he pressed his other thumb to your clit firmly. You whined.

“I like you,” you bit out, aggravation vibrating through you. “Not much right now-” A sharp thrust in, and he pressed your thighs further open, spreading you impossibly open. “Fine, I like you so much... Always fucking nice, and listening to me. You’re so fucking pretty and quiet all the time, everyone wants you Jun. Stop pretending like you don’t know that everyone likes you.”

“I only want one person to like me,” Jun mumbled back. His face was so serious, but you didn’t really get to observe it as suddenly Jun was fucking you roughly all over again. “Want you y/n, just you.”

Any words that you could say back to him were now gone, his thrusts, filling your brain with nothing but muddled pleasure.

“So fucking perfect for me,” Jun mumbled, and you were only vaguely aware of the fact that you were grabbing at him desperately, pulling him down so that his lips were on yours. Openly desperate for his affection, silently begging him to come inside you.

You felt like the two of you had melded together both physically and mentally because it wasn’t long before you felt Jun start to come inside of you and you were coming along with him with a scream to his lips.

As soon as you felt Jun’s cock spurt the last squirrt of warm cum on your stomach you felt him squashing it against your stomach as he fell limp against you. As he fell against you, his hands found their way to your neck again, his lips pressing against yours.

Neither of you were able to breath all that well anymore, but it was even harder to breathe with his lips against yours. You two gasped against one anothers lips more than you actually kissed, until finally, Jun gave up, his thumbs brushing the base of your neck as he settled himself down next to you. You two breathed next to each other and the longer that you two laid there the more that you thought about it.

Thought about Jun’s thumbs on your neck. Thought about his cum on your stomach. The fact that you were naked right next to him. All of it was in essence... A dream. In practice... Humiliating.

You buried your face into Jun’s side, wrapping your arms around his stomach to hide yourself in his body. Jun wrapped his arms around you too, letting you hide there.

Your mind was racing. How had you gotten here again? Would Jun think that you were telling the truth when you said you liked him? Maybe you could convince him that it was just something in you said in a fit of intimacy because his cock was in you.

His cock...

You peeked from Jun’s body to look at Jun’s cock, which was now limp but somehow still just as massive.

“Are you okay?” Jun asked after a few moments. “Maybe I should have gone slower.”

“Weren’t you the one who said it was better to rip of the bandaid?” You mumbled back, annoyed. “I’m fine.”

Jun hummed, and was quiet for a moment, his thumb rubbing small circles into your neck.

“You sure?” He asked, hesitantly. You nodded.

“I’m sure...” You were silent for a few moments. “I... Liked it.”

And your face was burning again, and you were burying your face into Jun’s body again.

Jun sighed, a big heavy sigh.

“Me too,” he breathed. “You know how long I’d been wanting to do this? Do you know how long I’ve liked you. But you’re always so mad at everyone else you don’t notice me.”

“I don’t notice you?” You blurted out, you raised your head back to his. “You’re always fucking talking to everyone. Wen Junhui. Friends with everyone.”

Jun hummed.

“I’m not friends with everyone,” he disagreed. “Just a few people.”

You scoffed your disbelief,

“Just a few?” You asked. “There’s Cheol, Wonwoo, Mingyu, Seokmin, Haruno, Chenle, Renjun, Ku-” You were interrupted by Jun shifting, his hands capturing your face between them. He gave you a very serious look.

“Stop talking about other people,” he murmured. “I don’t care about those other people the way I care about you. Especially not when you are next to me and you are naked, and perfect and all mine.”

You glared at him.

“Yangyang, Kris, Handong-”

Jun squeezed your face harder, and you stopped, a pout crossing your lips.

“Who ever said that I was all yours?” You asked instead. Jun frowned slightly, dropping his hands from your cheeks to your shoulders.

“You don’t want to be?”

Jun shifted so that his back was against the couch, and he dragged you up onto his lap.

“No one said that either,” you mumbled softly. You pressed your hands against his chest, your fingers creeping up under his shirt. “Can’t believe I let you fuck me with your shirt on... Like I’m some whore.”

Jun’s hands drifted to your hips, his thumbs brushed over your hip bones. He just hummed, not really commenting on your words. His eyes instead swept over your body, closely observing you. You pressed your lips together.

“So you agree with me? You think I’m a whore?” You were just being confrontational, and Jun immediately caught that.

“No one said that,” he said, throwing your words right back at you. “You’re just embarrassed.” As if you didn’t know that. “Just tell me if you want me to take my shirt off.”

You felt like it was teasing, but his face was so genuine. Your fingers clenched against his chest.

“Jun... Do you really mean it?” You asked softly. “You actually like me?”

“Why would I lie about that?” He asked back. He slid his hands up your body, leaning up so that he could place his hands on the back of your neck, thumbs pressed just under your jaw, pulling you down so that he could pull you into a deep kiss.

You grumbled into his lips, but your heart was soaring. He loosened his grip on you and you raised your own hands to his neck, your thumb brushing over his adams apple.

“You’d lie about it to fuck me,” you replied pointedly.

“I told you that I liked you while I was fucking you,” he reminded. “And now... I really like you y/n.”

You lowered your head to the side, a smile crossing your face that you were trying to hide. He whined at that, his grip on you tightening so that he could push your face back to see.

“You know you have the prettiest smile? Please don’t hide from me. Hide from anyone else, but not me. I like you too much for that,” he assured softly.

“It’s just a smile Jun,” you murmured.

“It’s not just a smile. It’s your smile.”

“I’m leaving,” you decided finally. You lowered your hands back down to his stomach and you patted him. “I’m going to my place. And maybe I will see you later.”

“Maybe,” Jun echoed, sitting up as you began to collect your clothes.

“Don’t text me,” you warned him. “I don’t like you like that.”

Jun hummed his response.

“Okay, I won’t,” he assured. You pulled your clothes on. You gave him a side glance.

“I’m serious,” you insisted.

“Don’t forget to take a shower,” he replied. “You still have cum on your stomach.”

Your face burned red and you decided not to say a word to him. You turned away from him on the heels of your feet and left without another word. You were only in the car when your phone buzzed.

Stupid: Tonight was fun 🙂 we should do it again but just dinner

Tomorrow at 7?

Your heart skipped a beat.

You hated him.

You slid your phone open and clicked to call him. Your phone, luckily for him, rang only twice.

“I said not to text me,” you protested immediately.

You heard him smiling in his voice.

“Right,” he agreed. Your face reddened.

“And it’s presumptuous to assume I’m just free tomorrow. What? I should just be around whenever you want me to be?”

You paused, but didn’t let him continue.

“What’s even the point of me going home right now if I’m just going to see you again at 7?” You continued.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “You could always stay I guess. We’ll watch a movie. I’ll make breakfast.”

“I guess,” you parroted back at him. It just made him laugh.

“Come back upstairs y/n.”

You were silent for a few seconds and in those few seconds your lips flickered up into a smile, exposing your true intentions.

“Okay,” your voice was uncharacteristically soft, your fast-beating heart slowing down at the comfortability in Jun’s words. “I’ll be just a second.”

-

Taglist: @vintageot5, @woo8hao, @wonudazed, @kkakkameori

#seventeen #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen fanfic #svt fanfic #svt fanfiction #seventeen smut #kpop smut #wen junhui #jun #moon junhui #jun smut #junhui smut

[charmercharm3r]

flushed with fever

HHJ, LFX

Masterlist

wc: 3.6k

Requested

Synopsis: Toxic as it is, he can't help looking at you in a loving relationship and wishing it was him instead. He also can't stop looking at your boyfriend.

warnings: angst with an up-for-interpretation ending, suggestive, alcohol consumption, reader gets lightly shoved once but that's about it

God, Felix hated him. Felix doesn’t hate anyone, but he hates him. He hates his stupid nicely styled hair. He hates his stupid charming smile, hates how tall he was and how he knew he was always the most attractive one in the room– Hyunjin’s confidence was something Felix envied. Almost as much as he envied the fact that Hyunjin had you.

You, with that sweet perfume that he loved. You, with the little hop you did whenever you saw him. You, with your eyes that lit up every time Hyunjin even looked in your direction. Felix had been watching you fall deeper in love with his roommate for as long as he could remember. He felt so terrible every time he was around the two of you because of how jealous he was. No– jealousy is juvenile. What Felix felt was covetous, yearning, and insatiable all within the same breath that it took to say your name.

Out of all the times you’d hung out with Felix one on one, it had to be a group outing that sent him over the metaphorical edge. He didn’t even want to go, but you batted your pretty lashes at him and he couldn’t help melting on the spot. You jumped with joy when he said yes and even gave him a hug, Felix tried to brush off the affection but it was too hard to resist not embracing you back. “I’m excited! I feel like you never wanna hang out anymore,” you didn’t think anything of it as the words left your mouth– it made his blood boil for a second.

“I wanna hang out. With you.” A little more backhanded than he intended, but the point got across. You frowned, but quickly let it go in favor of lightly scratching the underside of his chin.

“You could always ask me to hang out, too y’know. You’re my best friend, aren’t you?”

Best friend. He hated that word almost as much as he hated Hyunjin. Okay– hate is a strong thing to say, moreso the idea of your boyfriend left a nasty taste in his mouth whenever he thought of him. But even with all those mixed emotions, he still cared for you more than anything. So Felix nodded and smiled and did as he always did to ease the pain.

He and Hyunjin were close, so his secret disdain for the other boy made him all the more conflicted inside. There was the fact that his older, raven haired friend was nothing but nice to him, Hyunjin took care of him and supported him in the same way Felix supported you. Felix understood why you fell for him no matter how much he tried to deny it. In another world, perhaps he would have tested those waters himself. That only begs a question he refused to confront.

It was your idea to arrive at your group’s gathering together, Felix automatically assumed that Hyunjin would be joining as well, so his early departure before you came was confusing. But you knocked on the front door an hour later with a bright smile and greeted him the way you always did. Felix just had to ask why your boyfriend left before you. “He’s helping Changbin set up. Something about a fire pit he can’t get started– as if Hyunjin knows anything about that,” you joked.

Maybe he was reading too much into it, but he didn’t dwell for long. You were here all for himself, at least for the time being. Felix let you in the house while he gathered up his stuff and you watched as he did so with a look he couldn’t quite read, sitting at the kitchen island with your hands perched in your palms and a furrow in your brow.

“What’re you thinking about?” He asked and came to pack the rest of his bag across the counter.

“You.”

The sudden admittance made his ears perk and immediately tint red. “And Hyunjin.” Felix’s cheeks suddenly felt hot. Was he sweating?

“How so?” He powered through his own flush to ask.

“What happened between you two?” Such an unexpected question really threw him off to the point his hands froze entirely as he stopped to look you dead in the face. It was like you were reading his mind, “are you mad at him?” He genuinely didn’t know what to say, that wasn’t how he thought this conversation was going to go. Even when Hyunjin wasn’t here, somehow he still is. “Sorry if I’m overstepping, but you’re the most important people to me.”

People. Not person– people.

“I would hate for you to be fighting over–”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he interrupted. The taken aback look you had made him regret the somewhat rude tone instantly. Backtracking, Felix continued, “everything’s okay. Did– did he mention… something? About me?”

“No, I just know you both. It’s weird.”

“Maybe ask your boyfriend then.” Another thing he immediately regretted saying.

You looked defeated for a second, deflating glow dimming with every passing moment because he couldn’t keep his emotions in check over a simple question. “Sorry,” was all you said.

Felix felt worse upon realizing that you really did take his words to heart. Logically, he knew you never did anything on purpose in regards to toying with his feelings seeing as you couldn’t have known about anything of the sort because he never told you. When he thinks of it that way, Felix drowns in the guilt because you couldn’t look at him now. You wanted the best for him, so why couldn't he want the same for you? Is it because he knows he could be better? Because he knows he should be the one you kiss goodnight and parade on your arm for all your friends to see? How he knows your your favorite drink to have after a hearty meal, or that you purposely avoid stepping on the cracks on the sidewalk because of a silly superstition, or that you sprint into bed after turning off the light out of fear of the something lurking in the darkness and you think the blanket is an impenetrable shield that keeps you safe. Logically, he knew this was all theoretical and that Hyunjin was just as capable of providing everything that Felix claims he could.

“Forget about it,” he perks up instantly and erases the souring words from his head. With a pat to your head, Felix skips around the counter to give you a quick hug from behind and has you laughing away the discomfort in seconds. His heart beats a little quicker.

By the time the two of you make it to Changbin’s place, most of your friends are already relaxing around the firepit that your boyfriend is attempting to keep alive and fiery. It’s a funny sight, even to Felix who laughed along with everyone as Hyunjin thought that pouring hand sanitizer into the fire would make it burn brighter because it contained alcohol.

“It says it kills 99% of germs! If it’s strong enough to do that then wouldn’t it mean it’s flammable?” His reasoning made you giggle into his shoulder and kiss his cheek, which in turn had Felix trudging over to the table of drinks and pouring himself something on the stronger side.

He winced as he downed the icky concoction and didn’t hear the footsteps approaching his side. “Alright?” Hyunjin had nudged his shoulder and began pouring something into two cups, Felix assumed one was for you.

“Not strong enough,” he joked dryly. Hyunjin chuckled and poured into Felix’s cup as well. “Trying to get me drunk?”

The older glanced at Felix with an unreadable smirk, “not from alcohol, no.”

Felix didn’t know how to take his roommate’s ominous demeanor, side eyeing him, then you still sat with everyone else. Hyunjin glanced at the blonde and raised his cup that suggested Felix do the same, the pair silently toasted and each took a sip of the much too strong elixir. As Hyunjin watched his friend grimace at the taste, he snuck a look over at you as well, his eyes growing wide in adoration when you met his gaze and smiled. But then you tracked your attention towards Felix, too, and that same look didn’t falter, not that the younger seemed to notice. Hyunjin understood the appeal, he looked at your best friend the same way you did, mouthwatering and glowing alongside the brightness of the fire. Leaning down to his ear, Hyunjin said just above a whisper, “don’t think too hard, yeah?”

Confused and slightly too distracted by your stare he’d now caught, Felix didn’t entirely register your boyfriend’s words until he’d already strutted away and was taking his seat beside you.

The night felt like a blur in a sense that he couldn’t really tell what time it was nor remember how many drinks he had consumed, all Felix knew was that he wasn’t drunk enough to be able to stand watching you running your fingers through Hyunjin’s pretty black hair while he leaned his head against your shoulder. That should’ve been him. It should’ve been him, not Hyunjin. Was that just the alcohol talking? Who cares– fuck Hyunjin and his stupid smile, fuck his stupidly attractive hands wrapped around your waist, fuck his intoxicating cologne he could still smell from earlier, and most of all, fuck you for choosing Hyunjin instead of him.

“Lix, why do you keep staring at Y/N?” Seungmin, seated across the firepit, threw a crumpled newspaper at him, gaining the attention of the entire group.

“He’s drunk on patron and love, obviously.” Minho, ever the instigator.

“I wish I was drunk,” Felix, who spoke more to himself than anyone, could feel all eyes on him as he raised his cup to his lips again. He didn’t want to, in fact he resisted every muscle in his body until he physically couldn’t do it anymore to keep from looking at you, keep from looking at Hyunjin.

It hurt to see you concerned for him as there was nothing to be concerned about. He was used to this downward spiral and keeping it hidden so that you wouldn’t have to ever worry about him– he knew you’d be upset about the stress-induced forehead wrinkles afterwards. Felix did his best to keep his head down towards the fire, but saw from the corner of his eye Hyunjin whispering in your ear, eyebrows also furrowed. You nodded, tapped his knee and stood.

Oh god, you were headed straight for him. Why did you have that look on your face? The same one you made when you saw a hurt puppy on a TV show. Why did you tip the rest of your drink in the bush? Weren’t you here to have a good time? Oh no, oh, please don’t smile at him, his bruised heart can’t take it.

You did more than smile at him, you kneeled beside his lawn chair and gently reached for the solo cup in his hand. Felix let you take it from him and pour the contents into the grass, the warmth of your touch already making him feel entirely immobilized. You kept his hand in yours, softly interlacing your fingers as your eyes widened upon looking up at his face. “How do you feel? Wanna go home?” Thumb tracing across the back of his hand was mind numbing and much too domestic.

“W– with you?” You laughed and tucked his hair behind his ear.

“Mhm, and Hyunjin.”

“Like… all three of us?”

“Sure. You live together, don’t you?” His chest deflated a little, stealing his hand back and standing abruptly with a wobble. You immediately followed and placed your hands on him to steady, but Felix pushed you away and made you stumble back into his chair.

“What the hell, Lix?” You snapped a little and the distress in your tone caused Hyunjin to appear almost out of thin air to help you to your feet again.

“What’s going on?” The older boy kept an arm around your waist as his free hand tried to keep Felix upright, but the blonde pushed him away, too.

Perhaps he really did have a bit too much to drink, but if that was the case, why was he entirely coherent of the words wanting to come out of his mouth? “I don’t want your help– either of you.”

You rose again after a second to regain your composure and stood tall before him. Felix’s attempt at intimidating you didn’t seem to work, moreso you were thrown off by his outburst, but not backing down. “Let’s go home,” you held your hand out again and waited. The rest of your friends had dispersed around the house and the only ones left around the firepit were Minho, a girl, and Jisung, none of whom were paying attention to the three of you. Felix couldn’t even find it in himself to be embarrassed about taking your hand after literally shoving you away, not an ounce of pride left for him to cling to.

Hyunjin held your other hand and led you all out of the house, only shouting a few goodbyes to get halfhearted ones in return from your preoccupied mates. The blonde kept his head down most of the ride home in the backseat of Hyunjin’s car whilst doing his best to ignore your shared conversation that seemed unaffected by the events that took place minutes ago. Felix enjoyed listening to you talk, he also liked the sound of Hyunjin’s voice. Acting like he didn’t want to be involved in the small talk was getting somewhat draining and eventually forgot to be sulky. He giggled quietly to himself as Hyunjin cracked jokes to make you laugh. Then the car parked, Felix found himself smiling when you opened the door for him, holding his hand once more the entire journey back into their apartment with Hyunjin keeping a light hand on his back as he followed closely behind.

Felix felt his eyes closing slowly the longer your warmth suffocated his skin, wishing it was the alcohol that made him feel that way. He didn’t feel remotely drunk now, high on you and your stupidly attractive boyfriend making Felix feel like he was royalty. Hands shrugged his coat off for him, led him into his bedroom so he could fall back onto the bed, and Felix giggled louder as he took you down with him. Hyunjin watched the pair of you with a heartwarming smile before excusing himself to his own bedroom.

Laying next to him made you feel lightheaded, which was strange because it wasn’t unusual for the two of you to be staring at his ceiling this way. You didn’t see the way he was looking at you, eyes full of something hopeful, fear, and a little bit of guilt. As calmly as he could without his heart beating out of his chest, Felix whispered, “I’m sorry. I was a jerk… You’re too kind to me.”

“Yeah, well, I kinda love you.”

It fell from your lips before you could think about it, or even consider the way he was still looking at you. His mouth parted in disbelief no matter how many times you’ve said those four words to him, but there were so many things running through him and his mind tonight.

One thing in particular, he couldn’t stop thinking about; your lips. How pretty and plump they looked, glossy but not sticky, and how badly he wanted to kiss them. Felix wanted to smother you in kisses constantly, but right now he wanted a burning, sensual kiss that made his whole body tingle. It wasn’t the alcohol, instead purely his insatiable need to feel you.

Felix leaned in, so slowly that you wouldn’t have noticed if you didn’t see Hyunjin return to the doorway and give you a slight nod with a smirk plastered across his face.

It was just a kiss, nothing more, nothing less, but Felix was so gentle and soft, only letting himself find a rhythm once he felt you kiss him back. Your lips molded together so good that it was impossible to get yourself to pull away even upon hearing Hyunjin step into the room. Your boyfriend chuckled quietly, “hey now,” his voice made Felix disconnect in an instant, rolling over to see the older boy falling to kneel by his bedside. “Don’t hog him for yourself.”

Felix’s head was spinning, looking between you and your dark haired boyfriend to make sure he was really experiencing this and it wasn’t a dream. He gave himself emotional whiplash paired with how quickly he sat up as Hyunjin came down beneath his eye level. You watched as your boyfriend glided his hand across the sheet to tenderly hold Felix’s. Hyunjin interlaced their fingers, “is this okay?”

Felix nodded shyly and his skin flushed a deeper red than it already had. You sat up as well, scooting closer to lightly press your chest to his back and rest your head on his shoulder. “You don’t have to choose, Lix. If you want us both, we’re yours.”

The blonde’s breathing became heavier as Hyunjin squeezed his hand and you placed a chaste kiss to his shoulder, backing away just a little. It was silent for a few moments as Felix processed what was happening. The effects of the alcohol were long worn off, he was running on adrenaline now and could feel his body being pumped full of it.

“Do you like when I hold your hand?” Hyunjin whispered, thumb caressing the top of the younger’s hand. Felix thought for a moment, focused solely on the feeling of Hyunjin’s skin and how much bigger the appendage was in comparison to his own. He more than liked it, but he also more than liked how it felt holding your hand.

He nodded again, just as timid. “I’d like to do it some more, if that’s alright with you.”

“It hurts a little,” Felix blurted out. Hyunjin pulled away immediately and stared into the blonde’s eyes with concern. “No! Not physically– I mean– yes, physically. But… emotionally, too? It’s like…” He thought a little deeper to try and explain the tingling sensation he felt all over. Hyunjin peaked over Felix’s shoulder at you as you came in close behind him again. You nod at your boyfriend with a sympathetic smile as Felix relaxes a little under the heat of your body surrounding him.

“...Like when you strum a song on the guitar for too long, a– and you stop but you can still feel the vibrations in your fingers even if they’re numb. It’s a really shitty song, too, but you just can’t get the melody out of your head.”

Hyunjin’s gaze softened and quietly reached for Felix’s hand again, he winced upon the touch until he realized that his hands were shaking. Your boyfriend’s larger one cupped over the youngers’ and the shaking stopped. Eyes not leaving his face, Hyunjin picked up his hand as delicately as he would a withered flower and brought the pads of his fingers to his lips. Your heart swelled feeling Felix’s own heartbeat speed up. “I didn’t know choosing was an option,” Felix admitted.

“You thought we wouldn’t notice?” You joked and brushed your fingers through the back of his hair, to which he leaned into.

“I hoped as much.”

“That’s adorable,” Hyunjin snagged his attention again and flipped his hand to place another peck to his palm. Goosebumps erupted over Felix’s skin and shivered in your hold. “Just so you know what all your options are,” Hyunjin reached for the blonde’s cheek, snaking it back through his hair until his fingers found yours and interlocked them, dragging your shared touch down his neck to rest on his shoulder and pull Felix in to meet his lips half way.

His entire body on fire, suffocating in Hyunjin’s scent while being submerged in the feeling of you, Felix didn’t know what to do with himself other than kiss back. But same as his kiss with you, nothing more, nothing less. Hyunjin’s lower lip was plumper than the top and was more than a delight to mesh against, while yours matched the thickness of his own and were pillowy soft.

As Hyunjin drew away, Felix chased after him for more that resonated a giggle out of you and the raven haired. “Don’t think too hard about it,” you murmur and wrap your arms around him to embrace tightly, “you’ll hurt your pretty head.”

Hyunjin leans in and kisses Felix’s warm, rosy cheek, then moves over his shoulder to sweetly give you a small smooch before standing. He moved towards the door but stopped to hold out his hand for you. You jumped to your feet and took it as Hyunjin spoke again, “if you don’t feel like thinking at all, you know where we’ll be.” He smirks at the blonde cheekily, whisking you away with shared laughter.

Before you could head too far down the hall, you slip from Hyunjin’s grasp to skip back to Felix’s room where he was still sitting in his stunned position. You were a bit too excited, rushing to push his shoulders so he could fall onto his back and you tower over him, engulfing him once again in a somehow innocent yet electrically charged few fiery presses of your lips together. He kissed you back and found the courage to grip your waist just seconds before you pulled away, both of you breathless. You smiled down at him triumphantly, “before I was so rudely interrupted.”

Words physically wouldn’t come out of his mouth, Felix stammered beneath your teasing gaze. When you climbed off him was the first time he thinks he breathed since coming home. As you scampered away with a shit-eating smirk, you called out, “the door will be unlocked!”

-

tags: @sensitiveandhungry @babebatter @changbinluvr @epiphanynaffit @fawnpeaks @linovely @dumplinbokkieracha @finnydraws @naturules @djeniryuu @skzhomiehopper @yesv01 @hyunjinsamdl @dazzlingligth @lvrhyuka @alexis-reads-fics @linaliskz @0002linoskitten @chillichillicrabcrab23 @zerefdragn33l @straycrescent @binnies-donuts @soldierstangirl-blog @bakedlilgoonie @levanterlily @shelbyyy44 @yeetmehome @in2heartz @astroodledream @the-sweetest-rose @goblinracha @lilbugs-things @viviennenstan @staurdvst @alex--awesome--22 @imzenning @jeyelleohe @kaitchan @iadorethemskz @skyvastbunny @mamabymychem @katsukis1wife @woozarts

#stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids angst #stray kids smut #stray kids hyunjin #stray kids felix #skz #skz smut #skz angst #skz fluff #hyunlix #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin angst #hyunjin smut #Felix smut #Felix angst #lee felix #hyunlix angst #hyunlix smut #hyunlix x yn #hyunlix x reader #hyunlix x you #hyunjin x yn #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x you #Felix x reader #Felix x yn #Felix x you #poly!stray kids #poly!hyunlix

[minustwofingers]

exoplanet p. 4.5

second half of exoplanet part 4!

pairing: ellie williams x reader

summary: you’ve won the life lottery as one of the few people on earth with parents who gained admittance to the most prestigous safezone in the world after the outbreak. but after a lab accident sends you out to jackson, wyoming, real life hits you fast. it’s a good thing that a hot lesbian finds u. (lol). mean ellie at first, slowburn, enemies to friends to lovers, fem reader asf

warnings: PLEASE READ! mentions of nsfw content (read at your own risk), violence, explicit language. also a lot of angst. ellie is still kind of a dick but not quite as much. 

a/n: haha. isn’t it sooo funny how i said this would come out almost 12 hours later and then i posted it? i need to hit the hay early asf today if im to be frank w you guys so here it is now. i want to thank you all for the sweet and kind messages and comments i’ve been getting—they’ve been fuel for my writing!! also, i’ve got a better idea of how i want to end it now, so i’ve got a pretty good outline for what’s going to happen. expect around 3 more parts (one of which may or may not be an epilogue from ellie’s pov). as always thanks for reading!

part 1

part 2

part 3

part 4.0 (first half of this part) 

playlist inspired by exoplanet!!

wc: 6.5k

tags: @prettyplant0 @666findgod @sawaagyapong @rystarkov @buzzybuzzsposts @addisonnie @galacticstxrdust @parkersmyth @pinkazelma @ariianelle @lu002 @blairfox04 @sparkleswonderland @elliesflower​ 

enjoy x 

Dina’s sudden reappearance in your life was turning into one of the best things you had going on. When you were done with work, instead of loitering about Joel’s home and hoping to run into Ellie, you’d knock on Dina’s front door and spend your afternoons gossiping and trading stories. 

She never asked so explicitly about Ellie again, but you could tell that occasionally she wanted to.

“Guess whose birthday it is this weekend?” asked Dina one day in late April. The Wyoming sun was hung high in the sky, and the weather was steadily becoming warmer. The temperature was stuck at a breezy 60, and a part of you wondered just how hot it would get over the summer. 

Terranova rarely ever got over 70 degrees. Would it be hotter than that? Would you even be here to see it?

“Yours?” you guessed casually, pushing away the ever-present question of how long you’d really be in Jackson.

Dina snorted. “No. Not quite. You just missed mine, actually. I’m a December baby.” 

“Jesse?”

“No.”

“Joel?”

“Nope.” Her mouth popped on the p. 

Your heart thudded. “Uh—Ellie?” 

Her face split into a wide grin. “Yes! It’s her 20th. Isn’t that crazy? She’s ancient.” 

“Wow!” you said, coaxing faux enthusiasm into your voice. 

You and her had kept seeing each other at night, long after Joel had turned in. It always proceeded like clockwork—she’d come knock at your door, you’d fall into her bed, and then you’d leave.

You’d thankfully avoided any of the embarrassing stuff that you’d done the second night—no more unnecessary sensual face touching and whispers of her being a good person. You wanted to, though. There was so much that you ached to tell her, so many words that threatened to spill from your lips that you just barely managed to keep at bay. 

The worst part was the way that nothing had really changed between you two beyond what transpired every few evenings in her room. Each morning, you’d wake up knowing that you were in for another day of pretending like she didn’t know what it sounded like when you whined and begged and told her where to touch you. Like you didn’t know how her mouth tasted.

“I want to get her a present,” Dina was saying. “I do something for her every year, but I want this birthday to be a little different—given that she’s made it two decades and all, you know.” 

“That’s really thoughtful of you.”

Dina’s eyes sparkled. “I know! Do you want to help? If you do, I’ll tell her it’s from you, too.”

“Actually,” you said, wheels in your head turning, “That would be amazing. I have no idea what I’d get her otherwise.”

“Great.” Dina leaned back, nabbing her backpack from the ground and fishing through it until she produced a map. She unfolded it and began gesturing over the marks. “I found an abandoned bookstore in this area outside of the wall.” She tapped on a dot that she’d made, situated a fair ways away from the wall and on the opposite side of the town as the dam. 

“So we’re going shopping?”

Dina laughed. “Yeah. 5 finger discount, too. The only problem is that we might need to kill some baddies to qualify, but once we clear our way, it’s home free.”

“Right,” you said, fear creeping into your bones at the thought of having to fight off the infected. You’d only been on a few patrols since you’d been shot, and each had been totally unnoteworthy. You’d yet to actually shoot your gun at anything. “You—you do know that I’m not actually that good of a patrol partner, right?”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Dina, waving her hand dismissively. “I can take care of us. Plus, we haven’t seen infected in this area for a while. This is a pretty remote area—tough to reach unless you know what you’re looking for.”

“So, when are we going?”

A glimmer appeared in her eye. “Now?”

~

“Where are you going?” 

Ellie stood, her arms crossed as she leaned against the opposite wall. You were grabbing your patrol things, slinging your backpack over your shoulders and pulling on the gray sweatshirt she’d given you.

“Out with Dina,” you said, slightly breathless from moving so quickly. You hadn’t been expecting Ellie to be home—normally she was keeping herself busy picking up extra patrol shifts and helping Joel. It had been an unwelcome surprise to run into her, sour faced and serious while you were trying to get ready. 

“Out where?”

You shrugged, trying your best to look nonchalant. “Dina said she wanted to show me something.”

She was silent as you finished lacing up your shoes, but you could see her watching you from the corner of your eyes.

“I’ll be back in time for tonight, if that’s what you’re worried about,” you offered snidely, hardly realizing what you’d said until it had left your lips. It had been a low blow. It had been nasty. You weren’t sure why you’d said it. 

“That’s not—” She rubbed the bridge of her nose with her fingers. “I didn’t mean it like that.” 

“I know.” You stood up, feeling deflated. “Sorry. I don’t know why I said that.” 

Ellie sent you a tight smile. “It’s fine.”  

You walked back to Dina’s feeling heavy. That was how most of your interactions with Ellie seemed to go nowadays—awkward, stiff, and remarkably unfriendly. You weren’t sure what changed. And she was still fucking you, which didn’t make much sense.

Sometimes it felt like she was distancing herself on purpose. But that had to be wrong, because why would she do that? You obviously liked her. She wasn’t the one at risk of being hurt. 

You and Dina took off by foot as the sun began to set, well-armed with both weapons and navigational equipment. Well—Dina was, at least. All you had was the small gun Ellie had given you. Dina was doing all of the heavy lifting.

The forest was quiet, interrupted only occasionally by songbirds and the sound of wind rustling through the leaves. Spring had hit Jackson suddenly, the underbrush exploding in volume and flowers blooming everywhere.

As you two walked through the woods, chattering mindlessly and generally enjoying each other’s company, you made a mental reminder to return to the forest to pick up a makeshift bouquet of flowers. Ellie didn’t seem like the type to swoon over things like that, but even the most unromantic people could recognize the gesture of flowers. You were sure she’d at least put them in a vase. 

Eventually the path Dina was leading you on opened up to a heavily overgrown street, a small decrepit strip mall hidden away in the shrubbery.

“Here!” said Dina cheerily. She jogged forward, scrubbing the moss off of the door to show a book icon on the filthy glass.

“And you said that there’s no infected here?” you asked, your fingers wrapped nervously around your gun.

“Of course I did,” said Dina. “Do you think I’d take you somewhere that was infested?”

The glass shattered as a body came crashing through the door, thrashing and clicking in a mass of bloody limbs as it took Dina to the ground.

Your finger squeezed the trigger before you could think, sending a spray of gore into the air as Dina forced the thing off of her and stood, panting. 

There wasn’t even a chance to breathe. A piercing shriek cut through the air before three more followed the first, not paying any mind to the jagged edges of the broken door that grabbed at their mutilated skin. 

“Fuck!” Dina’s knife went swinging through the air, slicing and jabbing at the creatures in front of you. They fell in quick succession, but there was more rustling and screaming from inside. Far too much rustling. “Run!”

She didn’t have to tell you twice. Despite the fact that you’d never been a track star in school, you bolted quicker than you’d even known possible. Your backpack banged against your back as you sprinted down the road, ducking into the brush and making a break for it with Dina right on your tail. 

The walk there had taken close to 30 minutes. Your sprint cut that in over half. You and Dina ran in stride, with her lagging behind to send off a few shots to ground the runners that were quick enough to keep up. The clearing you appeared in all the way back in the winter flashed by you in a second, and within another few moments, you were both resting against the wall, chests heaving as you both picked off the stragglers that had come out of the forest to investigate.

By the time the last gunshot rang out and the final infected slumped to the ground, you were shaking uncontrollably, your gun vibrating in your hand. 

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” said Dina, equally breathless though significantly more composed as you two walked through the entrance, getting concerned looks from the people who were manning the gate. “I’ve never seen so many in that store before. I don’t understand. It was clear the last time I went.” 

Before you could respond, someone stepped into your eye line.

“What the fuck did you do,” seethed Ellie. Her eyes were wild, her lip curled in a manner so derisive you began to wonder if you’d ever actually seen her angry before this. 

“Chill, Ellie,” said Dina. “Y/N and I were just going to try and pick something up for your birthday. There were…a few more than what I was expecting. But it’s fine. We handled them. She did great.”

Ellie looked at you then, and you could feel her taking you in. Her eyes rested with accusation at the way that your hands were trembling. “You’re so fucking stupid, Dina. You knew that she’s never done this before. What the fuck is wrong with you, taking her out like that?”

“It was clear the last time I was there!” Dina spoke with her hands, waving them through the air in emphasis.“There wasn’t supposed to be any. I don’t know what to tell you. I didn’t purposefully try to get us killed.” 

Ellie sent her another scathing look before turning her attention to you. “And don’t even get me started with you.”

You blinked. “What?”

“What the fuck were you thinking?!” she snapped. 

Dina sent you a wink and disappeared down the street in the direction of her house. 

“I was thinking of your birthday, actually,” you said delicately. “We were going to get you something from the bookstore.”

“That is not an excuse to go get yourself killed!”

You held up your hands in mock surrender, which looked really stupid considering how hard you were still trembling. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t the original plan. Can we not do this right now? I’m still trying to, uh, process what happened.” 

As if to punctuate your point, the next step you took nearly sent you to the ground, your knees wobbling. 

Ellie’s hands were at your sides in an instant, solid and steadying against you as you regained your balance.

“Sorry,” you said again, lower this time. 

“How many?” Ellie asked. Her voice was softer now, almost resigned. She hadn’t let go yet.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “After the first three or four, I lost count. They just kept—” You winced at the memory of the wet sound that they made hitting the ground. “They just kept coming.” 

“You did them a favor,” said Ellie, stepping back and to your side as you began to walk forward. Her hand stayed posed on your forearm. “It gets easier.” 

“I don’t know if I want it to get easier,” you confessed. 

“Well, how about you start by never doing something that fucking stupid again.” Her words lacked any venom. “Don’t you ever go out without me again, okay? Do you have any idea what could’ve happened to you?”

You gave your trembling hands a look. “I can take a guess.”

Ellie walked you back to Joel’s house, helping you out of your jacket and unsubtly checking your skin for bites. Or at least that’s what she said she was doing. She couldn’t seem to stop touching you. 

You headed back up to your room to get changed as Ellie shut the front door and was off to finish her work with Tommy. As you leisurely made your way down the hallway, you noticed that something was off—the hallway closet was slightly ajar.

The memories of your first night there came floating back to you, images of Ellie shutting the door before you could see inside emerging to the forefront.

It wouldn’t hurt to look, would it? It was probably nothing. 

Your hand wrapped tentatively around the handle, pulling the door open so slowly that the old, rusty hinge fell silent.

It wasn’t what you were expecting. It wasn’t what you were expecting at all. 

It wasn’t really a closet—there were a few shelves, but no hangers. In their place, there were stacks of textbooks with old, dated covers of the stars, planets, and physics. The back wall was plastered with drawings of constellations and calculations in Ellie’s messy scrawl, reminiscent of the leftover scrap paper from when you sat your physics exams and did your problem sets.

The memory of Ellie staring at your textbook re-emerged to hit you with full force. No wonder she was interested in it. THIS is what she was going to say that she wanted to study when you’d asked her. 

A slow smile crept onto your face as you thought about her upcoming birthday.

You knew what you were getting her now. 

~

Preparing for Ellie’s surprise party was a full day’s worth of work. You and Dina had convinced Maria to give Ellie enough things to do that she’d stay out of the house for the majority of the afternoon. You felt kind of guilty that Ellie was being put to work on her birthday of all days, but Dina just shook her head.

“It’s Ellie,” she said. “She lives to act all macho and patrol and shit. This is probably an extra present to her.” 

You two had located some flour, sugar, eggs, and butter and were hard at work baking a cake. It was tough going without a real recipe, but you’d grown up with a mother who loved baking, so you tried to do it from memory.

The result was a rather lopsided looking monstrosity that you and Dina had attempted to salvage through the liberal application of the thin icing you’d managed to whip up using milk and powdered sugar. It didn’t work, and you two didn’t wait long enough for the cake to cool before frosting it, so it melted in puddles and made the cake soggy.

“Fantastic work,” said Dina, wiping her hands on her front as you two surveyed the final product. “Really incredible, Y/N. You should really consider a career change.”

“Shut up,” you said, snorting. “Ellie’s gonna hate this.”

“She’s going to think it’s hilarious,” Dina corrected. “I’m sure it can’t taste too bad, right?”

You shivered. “Don’t say that.”

The decorations and gathering of presents were thankfully an easier challenge, and before you knew it Joel’s living room was fixed up to look obnoxious as possible, with a tacky “HAPP BIRTHDAE ELLIE” strung up in blood red reflective plastic (you two couldn’t find any Ys) above the fireplace. “Happy 5th Birthday!” balloons filled the ceiling, their gaudy purple color clashing horrifically with the red of the lettering. 

“This is just awful, Dina,” you said. “Ellie’s never going to speak to us again.”

“You need to chill,” Dina responded. “She might act grumpy all of the time, but I know her, and I know she’ll secretly like this.”

7 rolled around quickly, and with it came the guests.

First was the unsurprising Jesse, grinning and carrying a satchel that had a makeshift card attached to the top labeled “Ellie”. 

Next came Astrid, Bonnie, and Greg—all of the patrolmen that were roughly around your age. You hadn’t spent all that much time with them, but they’d always been fun.

Last came a girl you’d never seen before.

“Hi!” she said, extending a hand and looking at you through a fringe of choppy black hair. 

“Hi!” you said, taking her hand and shaking it once. “I’m Y/N.”

“I know,” she said, her eyes crinkling. “I’m Cat.”

“I can’t believe you two haven’t met before,” said Dina, swooping in to stand beside you. There was something written on her face—something that looked kind of like worry.

“I can’t either!” you said good-naturedly. “How do you know Ellie?”

Dina cringed.

Cat just smiled wider. “Oh. Ellie and I go way back.”

“Cat, why don’t you go help me in the kitchen? I need to finish plating some stuff,” said Dina. 

“Sure!” Cat sent you one more winning smile, following Dina with a bounce in her step.

Something felt deeply off about that interaction, but you couldn’t quite put a finger on what it was. You’d never seen Dina so eager to get you away from someone. Maybe it’d just been a coincidence?

You didn’t get a chance to dwell on it further, because Ellie was opening the door. 

“Surprise!” Everyone in the living room yelled upon seeing her. 

Ellie blanched, her eyes landing on you for a moment before she cast her gaze to the rest of the room. “What’s this?”

“Your birthday party,” said Dina, appearing from the kitchen with a plate of crackers and other appetizers, Cat in tow. “You didn’t think we were just going to let you turn 20 without embarrassing you just a little bit?”

“Those are the most hideous balloons I’ve ever seen,” said Ellie, crossing her arms.

“Thanks,” you said, beaming. “I picked them out myself.” 

Much to your surprise, her lips lifted until she was smiling back. “You’re such a loser.”

“Okay!” said Dina, clearing her throat and stepping in between you two. “You two can flirt later. I’ve been slaving away in the kitchen for an entire day. Let’s eat.”

You shut your mouth, blushing uncontrollably as your eyes lifted. Ellie’s cheeks looked uncharacteristically pink and her eyes were fixed on your shoes.

Dinner went by quickly, with everyone trading odd stories about patrolling and their life before Jackson. You learned that Dina had actually been born in New Mexico and that Astrid was from Oregon. You heard all about how Jesse and Greg came across an old mall a few miles out of Jackson that was so full of infected that they could hear them scratching at the doors and clicking even before they were within eyesight of the building. You told some stories about your life in Terranova, about studying and your family. 

“What the fuck is this?” asked Ellie once Dina had reappeared, carrying your sorry excuse of a birthday cake. Time had not treated it well. The first layer was almost entirely slid off, and the cake looked damp from the melted icing.

“It’s your birthday cake,” you said. “We, uh, tried. I don’t have a cake recipe memorized, and it was harder than I expected.”

The candles Dina attempted to stick into the cake kept falling out, the structural integrity so weakened from the melted frosting that chunks were coming off.

“Let’s just pretend that there’s 20 candles,” said Dina finally once the top layer of the cake finally split in half. 

“Right,” said Ellie, snorting. 

Dina led a very enthusiastic rendition of the Happy Birthday song that ended in cheers and hollers as Ellie dramatically lowered her head to the cake and pretended to blow the “candles” out. 

No one touched the cake, but you couldn’t blame them. 

Next came presents. Jesse went first, giving Ellie a satchel that held a bunch of cleaning equipment for her patrol rifles. Dina had found a t-shirt that said “Enemy of the State” in goofy comic sans lettering, and Ellie was unsuccessful in holding back her giggles at seeing it. 

“Dina, this is so stupid,” she said, but there was no venom in her tone, just amusement. 

It was your turn next, so you leaned across the table to place the small box in front of her. 

“Please tell me you didn’t almost die getting this one,” said Ellie, giving you a suspicious look.

“Not at all,” you said. “I accidentally brought it from Terranova.” 

Her nimble fingers untied the flimsy ribbon you’d haphazardly wrapped around the tiny brown box, lifting the lid off and peering inside.

“It’s a…rock?” Ellie frowned, pulling it out and holding it in her hand.

“You got her a rock for her birthday?” Cat asked you from her position to your right, her eyebrows raised.

“It’s not just a rock,” you said. “It’s a moon rock. Like, from the moon.”

Ellie froze, her eyes saucers as she stared at the rock balanced in her palm. “What?”

“I told you I studied astrophysics,” you said casually. “One of my professors let me borrow it because my research supervisor wanted to take a look at it, so it was in my bag. And I never had the chance to give it to him, obviously. So it’s yours now.” 

“Holy fuck.” She turned in over, her fingers running across the surface. “This is…wow. Oh my god.”

“That’s so cool, dude,” Jesse said. “Like, insane. I didn’t even know that those were a thing.”

“There’s only a couple in the world,” you added. “And even fewer that are still reachable. The rest are…well, out here somewhere. Terranova only has a few from our own expeditions and the professors who managed to grab what they had when they moved.”

“This one’s from me,” said Cat, leaning forward and placing an envelope in front of Ellie. “It’s not as cool as a moon rock, but I thought you’d like it.” 

Her fingers slid under the tongue of the envelope, ripping it open and pulling a piece of paper out. 

“Good for one more free tattoo,” Ellie read out.

Cat sat back, looking awfully pleased with herself. 

“Cat was the one who gave Ellie the one on her arm,” Dina explained to you.

 A memory pricked at your consciousness, dating back to your first patrol with Ellie.

An ex had given her the tattoo on her arm.

The girl who had given her tattoo was Cat.

Cat was her ex.

That makes so much sense you realized with horror as you remembered how Cat had told you so confidently that she and Ellie went way back. Of course they did. They used to date.

“Where’d you go?” asked Dina, bumping your shoulder.

“Sorry,” you said, rubbing the bridge of your nose. “Just, uh, tired.”

When you looked up, Ellie’s eyes were on you, her lips slightly quirked.

You looked away, instead focusing on the placemats that Dina had set out. Cat was so different from you—so peppy, so confident, so loud. No wonder Ellie didn’t want anything more than what you had now. Whatever Ellie had seen in Cat had nothing to do with you. 

The night ended with you all sitting on the couches in the living room with Dina mixing drinks so strong that you were wondering if she was trying to kill you. 

“Jesus Christ, Dina,” you said as you watched her pour. “What is that? 90 percent vodka?” 

“I prefer to call it efficient,” Dina corrected. 

It burned going down your throat and you fought back a cough as you placed your glass back on the coffee table. Ellie was right next to you, her thigh barely brushing against yours as you moved.

Cat was on the other side of the room, seated next to Jesse and Astrid. You were internally very proud that Ellie had chosen to sit next to you instead. Her arm rested on the back of the couch behind you, and even though it couldn’t have meant all that much, you couldn’t help but wonder if it at least meant something. 

You were just halfway through your cup by the time you started to feel really and properly sloshed. Your voice sounded tinny in your ears, and from the way that Ellie was laughing at anything anyone said, you had a sneaking suspicion that she was somewhere around where you were.

It wasn’t long before everyone had excused themselves and wished Ellie a final happy birthday—it was getting late and quite a few had early shifts the next day.

Dina was the last to go, saying goodbye and sending you another look as she pointedly stared at the arm rested behind you.

For a few minutes, you and Ellie just sat in silence, hearing the fire crackle and the sound of her softly breathing.

Then she spoke.

“How did you know that I’d like the moon rock?”

“Oh.” You blushed. “Don’t be mad. You left the closet door open the other day—you know, the one with all your space textbooks and everything. It was an educated guess.” 

“So nosy,” she tutted. 

“But you do like the rock?” 

She smiled. “Yes. Thank you.”

You reached forward and polished off the rest of the drink that Dina had made you, feeling the liquid fire slide down your throat and settle in your stomach. 

When you turned back, you could see Ellie staring at you, her auburn hair glowing in the firelight, her pupils blown wide, and her eyes slightly unfocused. She’d had more than one of the drinks that Dina had made, and it was really showing. 

“You’re so pretty.”

You froze. Out of all the things you expected her to say, that was nowhere on the list. The words had left Ellie’s lips like a compulsion, raw and honest. 

She hadn’t stopped looking at you, but her eyes were wider, her cheeks red. She hadn’t meant to say it, you realized. Now she was embarrassed and flustered, and it was all because of you. 

It was the boldness of being tipsy that made you move towards her, pulling your legs up until you were seated on your knees in front of her.

Ellie didn’t move apart from wetting her lips, her eyes darting from your eyes to your mouth. 

When you kissed her, she melted into you. The arm that had been draped over the couch behind you dropped to your back, your own hands sliding into her hair and tightening at the back of her neck.

She gasped as she felt your nails scrape against her, and you took the opportunity to lick into her open mouth, tasting the vodka on her tongue as it slid against yours.

To your surprise, her hands didn’t creep up your shirt or dip below the waist of your pants. They stayed static, one glommed onto your back while the other clutched your jaw as she let you kiss her, over and over again. 

You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but there was something about it that felt different than your usual nighttime meetups. It felt more—vulnerable, almost, that Ellie was kissing you just to kiss you, not with some other agenda. 

The grandfather clock chimed, indicating that it was almost midnight. You pulled away from her for a second, panting as you caught your breath. A string of saliva suspended between your lips, snapping as you waved a hand through it and flushed.

“Sorry,” you whispered.

She just smiled.

“Is Joel going to be back soon?”

As if to punctuate your point, the front door banged open, the man in question pulling his jacket off and turning to see you both. You’d thankfully managed to get off her lap before he saw. 

“Oh!” he said, his eyebrows nearly touching his hairline. “I wasn’t expecting you two to still be awake.”

“Uh, yeah,” said Ellie, scratching the back of her neck. “We’ve just been…talking.”

“Good party?”

“Yeah.” 

“I’m glad. Tommy and Maria wish you a happy birthday, by the way. Though I’m sure you knew that.” 

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“Well,” said Joel, giving a sigh that only old men could recreate, “I’m off to bed. You two don’t stay up too late, huh? You’ve still got work tomorrow.” 

“Goodnight,” you two chorused. 

Once Joel had disappeared into his room, you turned to look at her.

“That was close.” 

“Yeah.” Ellie laughed nervously, picking at her cuticles. “Um—do you want to move somewhere else?”

Something deep in your chest ached. Sure, you’d be okay with spending another hour or so feeling her hands on you as she made you finish, but a part of you had really liked just touching her for the sake of touching her—kissing her just because you could.

“Sure,” you said. “Just give me a chance to change.”

When you knocked after switching into more comfortable clothes, the door swung open to reveal a significantly more nervous looking Ellie than you’d seen in a while.

“Hi,” you said shyly.

“Hi.” 

You stepped into her, pressing a tentative kiss to the corner of her mouth. When she didn’t react, you pulled back.

“Is everything okay?”

“Do you want to stay over?” Ellie blurted out, her eyes wide and afraid. 

You balked. “Uh, what?”

“You don’t have to,” she said, her eyes dropping to the ground. “I’m sorry. I know we’re not like that. I just thought that—maybe, I dunno, just this once—”

“Yes,” you interrupted. “Please. I’d really like that.” 

“Right. Good. Okay.” She took a deep breath, then laced her fingers through yours to lead you to her bed.

When your mouth found hers again, it was just like on the couch—no intentionally rough or overtly sexual touches, just gentle brushes against your skin and the weight of fingers tangled in your hair as she pulled you further into her.

For the first time since you confessed, you didn’t sleep together. When you two finally tired out, you flopping down on the pillow first, Ellie’s head came to rest on the expanse of skin between your shoulder and your neck, your arms coming around her.

It was strange. For someone so deadly and tough, Ellie suddenly looked so small and fragile curled against you, the rise and fall of her chest synchronized with your breathing. 

“I’m sorry Cat was invited,” Ellie said, her voice muffled from where her face was pressed into your neck.

“What do you mean?”

“I should have told you what her name was. That must’ve been a nasty surprise.”

Her foresight and understanding made your heart ache, deeply. How was it that she could say all these things but not want anything more with you?

“It was alright,” you said. There was no conviction in your tone. “I wouldn’t have expected you to tell me.”

Ellie was silent for a few beats. You knew she was thinking, though; you could feel the flutter of her lashes against you as she blinked.

“How long do you think it’ll take for you to forget me?”

You paused. “What? What do you mean?”

Ellie shifted against you, one of her arms draped over your chest. “I mean, when you go back.”

“Ellie,” you chided, bringing your hand up so you could run your fingers through her hair. “Don’t be ridiculous. As if I’d ever just leave you behind. If I go back there, I’m finding some way to bring you with me. So, no. That’s not even a valid question. I’m never forgetting you.” 

In truth, you hadn’t even begun to consider what you’d do if—when—you were found. You’d been so focused on trying to fit into your new life here that your past had largely just faded into the back, shrinking in the horizon. What you did know, at least, was that even in some dystopian future without Ellie, she’d never be off of your mind.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” 

“I’m not,” you replied, tapping her shoulder. “I mean it. You’re stuck with me.” 

Her diaphragm vibrated as she let out a short laugh. “Oh, the horrors.” 

She fell silent as you kept threading your fingers through her hair, letting your nails scrape against her scalp. The hand that wasn’t draped over your chest had crept up, her thumb rubbing back and forth as she traced the outline of your jaw.

“I’m sorry,” she said suddenly. “I can be such a sad drunk sometimes. It’s pathetic.”

“It’s okay,” you soothed, your other hand lightly dancing up and down her back. “I think it’s sweet.”

She snorted. “You would.” 

Then, after a few more seconds of silence: “You really weren’t jealous?”

“I never said that.” 

“So she did make you jealous?”

You flicked her shoulder. “Fuck off. Of course she did. Happy?”

“Thrilled.” 

A few moments later, she spoke up again. 

“Can you promise me something?” Her voice was deceptively casual.

“Anything.” You’d give her anything she wanted.

“Promise me that you’ll take the first opportunity to go home,” she said softly. “Promise you won’t do anything stupid.”

“I’ll take the first opportunity to go home as long as I get to have you around, too.” 

You couldn’t see it, but you knew she was rolling her eyes. “Not good enough.”

“You want me to leave that badly?” You weren’t sure if you should be hurt.

“Of course not,” she responded. “I just...I don’t expect you to wait around here for me. I don’t want you to. I want you to be safe.”

“I feel safe with you.”

“Will you just—fucking—say you’ll go?” Her voice sounded raw, tired. 

“Fine,” you said. “I promise.” 

Your words were empty. You couldn’t promise her that. She had to know that. But would it matter? If you never had to make that choice?

In retrospect, you weren’t sure when you drifted off. All you remembered was the warmth of Ellie gathered up in your arms, her measured breath blowing across your exposed neck as you felt the slow, marching rhythm of her heart.

~

When you awoke to the early morning sunbeams streaming in through the window and warming your face, Ellie was passed out cold on top of you. A few unruly strands of her auburn hair had ruffled upwards overnight, sticking to your cheek and threatening the seams of your lips. 

You’d never been happier.

As you thought, running your hand gently up and down the length of her spine, Ellie’s breath hitched.

You froze, thinking you must have woken her.

Then she made a quiet snort. She took another deep breath in, whistling as it went. Her next exhale was louder and caught in her nose. 

You did your best not to laugh enough to wake her.

Ellie snored, even though she wasn’t that loud. The part of you that was still intimidated by her was shrinking by the minute. If only you had known in the beginning that after a long day of bullying you she went back to her room to honk shoo the night away, you never would’ve let it bother you.

She jolted awake, blinking rapidly as she pulled away and looked up at you.

“What the fuck are you laughing about?” she said groggily. “It’s—” She twisted in your arms, squinting at her desk. “It’s 6 in the fucking morning. Shut up.” With that, she flopped back down on top of you, laying one arm over your torso so she could shove it the space under the pillow beside your head. 

“You shut up,” you heard yourself say. 

Ellie smacked your shoulder, not even bothering to lift her head. 

“You snore,” you said, quieter this time. 

“I don’t.”

“You literally do. I was there when it happened.” 

She was silent for a few moments. “Really?”

You pressed your lips to her forehead instead as you trembled from the laugh you were doing your best to rein in.

“Oh, god,” groaned Ellie. “That’s so embarrassing.” 

“I thought it was cute.”

“You think everything I do is cute.” 

“And what about it?”

You settled back in, wrapping your arms around Ellie as you tried to drift back off.

“Do you hear that?” 

Her voice was whispered.

“Hear what?”

“That sound.” 

You let go of her and sat up, your eyes unfocused as you tried your best to tune into whatever Ellie was talking about. Out of the corner of your vision you could see her staring at you with big, nervous eyes.

It took you a moment to notice it. No one could blame you, really. It was hardly a rarity to hear the sound of a plane when you grew up in Terranova. 

“That’s a plane, Ellie,” you said, reaching out to cup her face. “It’s fine.” 

“A plane?” She frowned, still blinking bleariness out of her eyes. “I’ve never heard one before. Joel told me that they stopped being used after the government officially fell.”

“That’s not true,” you corrected. “There’s some in—”

A puzzle piece clicked into place, and with it came a sense of underlying dread. But you shouldn’t be dreading it. It’s what you were hoping for after all, weren’t you? What you’d been praying for since you’d arrived?

“Let’s go outside and look,” you said, nudging her side. “I’m sure it’s nothing.” You were hoping it was nothing. 

Ellie followed you, pulling a throw blanket from her bed and draping it around her shoulders like a cape. She looked so cute like that. You wanted to bite her. Not, like, in a weird blood kink way. Just in a…you didn’t know how to describe it. Better leave it there. 

A lump formed in your throat.

Maybe you were wrong. Maybe this had nothing to do with you.

The air was tepid and pleasant against your bare skin as you two quietly opened the front door and crept onto the porch. The town was quiet. No one was awake at this hour, not unless they were down by the stables or doing night watch. 

There was a sliver of pink and orange hanging over the tops of the mountains, no doubt remnants of what had been a spectacular sunrise. There were still snowy caps on the highest peaks. You hadn’t known that mountains could stay so cold for so long until you’d come to Jackson.

The lump in your throat grew larger.

“Shit,” said Ellie, leaping down from the porch and onto the road. “Do you see this?”

The plane was no longer in sight, but the swirling papers that hadn’t been on the road the night before were left as evidence.

“They must’ve dropped them,” said Ellie excitedly, snatching one from the ground and bounding back up the steps so she was next to you. “What do you think this says?”

You smiled sadly. “Why don’t you read it?”

She unfolded the envelope, ripping open the top and dumping the contents out in her hand. 

“Oh.” 

It was a picture of you. It’d been taken months prior at your family’s Christmas party. You’d worn glittery silver eyeliner and curled your hair. The upper half of your body was in view, clad in a rich red fabric that landed right below your collarbones. A string of creamy white pearls were clasped around your neck, matching the teardrop pearls that hung delicately from your ears. 

HAVE YOU SEEN HER?

There was no other text, but you did notice a divet at the top right corner in the shape of a small oval. 

Terranovan security. Of course. 

Wordlessly, you pressed your thumb into the mold, holding it there for a second as the parchment recorded your print.

Then a paragraph formed at the bottom, ink slowly leaking into the paper.

COME TO THE COORDINATES LISTED BELOW AT EXACTLY NOON, MAY 15TH. A LIFT WILL BE WAITING TO ESCORT YOU.

You’d been found. 

final a/n: sorry not sorry this was the original cliffhanger that i was planning for part 4 all along. you guys are incredible for still sticking around and reading even though this is getting lengthy as hell. anyway i hope you guys enjoyed this sort of different side of ellie before we reach the final act. the plot is abt to reach its peak and i’m hellaaa excited to share it with you. okok let me know what you think! it might take me around the same time it took me to finish part 4 to get part 5 out considering how sick i am/how much i have on my plate, but i promise it’s coming :))

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams self insert #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x oc

[sailor-aviator]

Don't Hang'em Til Noon: Chapter Nine

Don't Hang'em Til Noon: Chapter Nine

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Jake "Hangman" Seresin is a notorious leader within the Dagger posse of the old western territories of the United States. You, a recently orphaned socialite from the eastern seaboard, find yourself swept off to live with your older brother who has set down roots in said western territory. Determined to to make the best of your situation, what will you do when said outlaw sets his sights on you?

Warnings: Language, Angst, Smut, Arrest, Admittance of feelings. Think that's it.

Word Count: 7.01k

A/N: And we're back!! I decided to combine chapters nine and ten together, hence why the chapter is so long. As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!! 18+ ONLY!! Find me on AO3 under sailor_aviator! If You're feeling kind, please consider donating to my ko-fi!

Masterlist || DPU Masterlist || Jake "Hangman" Seresin Tag List

It had been weeks since the moment on the train, and you were starting to wonder if maybe you should move back to Baltimore. You hadn’t said a word to Jake since you stomped on his foot, save for the occasional comment about farm chores, and he had certainly done his damndest to avoid even looking at you it seemed.

You found yourself lying awake at night, thoughts drifting towards those of mossy green eyes and gentle touches that made your heart sing and your skin burn with longing. What little sleep you were getting was cut short by nightmares of faceless threats that grabbed at you, tearing your clothes and leaving you gasping for breath as you shot up out of bed. It wasn’t until your eyes would skim over the small, ornate wooden box that your heartbeat would slow and your shoulders would relax. You would crawl slowly out from underneath the sheets, padding over to your dresser where the box sat and run your fingers gently over the ornately carved flowers. Your heart would clench in your chest, and you would try to fight off the tears that gathered in your eyes to no avail.

Stupid, stupid man, you’d think to yourself, scrubbing furiously at your eyes before grabbing the box and trudging back to bed, laying it by your side with a hand on top before drifting back off into a dreamless sleep.

“You look like hell,” Bunny muttered to you one day, polishing a glass as Birdie sat beside you. The teacher had been teaching Bunny how to read, and she had started giving the other girl small writing assignments that she would check over.

“Your penmanship is getting better!” Birdie chirped at Bunny, beaming brightly as she slid the paper back across the bar, casting you a sideways glance. “And she’s right. You look awful. Have you been getting any sleep?”

You grimaced, scratching anxiously at the wood of the bar.

“I have,” you sighed, chewing on your bottom lip. “But it hasn’t been much.”

“It wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain blond that’s been moping around my bar for the past three weeks, would it?” Penny asked, giving you a knowing look as she set a crate of beers down on the counter. You refused to meet her eyes, glancing up when a familiar brunette sat down on the stool next to you.

“Your brother is worried too, you know,” Nat told you, studying you closely. “He says you’ve hardly been eating and that it’s like watching a ghost walking around the house.”

“He’s exaggerating,” you scowled, rolling your eyes. Nat gave you an unimpressed look, and you looked around to see matching expressions from the other women. You sighed, burying your face into your arms atop the bar.

“Somehow, I don’t think he is,” Nat muttered.

“Are you even going to tell us what happened between the two of you?” Bunny asked, face a mask of indifference as always despite her tone of concern.

“Does it matter?” You mumbled, glancing up at her. Penny huffed, placing a hand on her hip as she leveled you with a look.

“It does when I’ve had a moody cowboy practically drink through all of my beer every night for the past three weeks,” she frowned, concern still evident in her eyes despite her disapproving tone. “Whatever happened between the two of you, I’m sure it can be fixed.”

You didn’t say anything, eyes focused on the grains of wood underneath your fingernails.

“I…” You trailed off. “I said such horrible things to him.”

“What did you say?” Birdie asked you, leaning forward and resting a hand on your arm in comfort. You felt tears well up in your eyes, and you sniffled slightly.

“I told him that he didn’t know me, that maybe I wanted to move back to Maryland and marry someone there.”

Silence. You glanced up to see the other four woman all glancing at one another. Penny sighed, looking back at you with a grimace.

“It’s not so bad,” she offered. “You could have said worse, I’m sure. It’s nothing you can’t apologize for.”

“You didn’t see his face,” you countered, sitting up straighter. “And I tried to apologize, but he wouldn’t listen.”

“Jake is stubborn, that’s for damn sure,” Nat muttered, shaking her head. “He always has been, ever since we were little. You know he refused to take a payment for fixing Mr. Benson’s roof last spring? And then when Jake went to buy that emerald necklace for whatever reason, Mr. Benson had to practically shove the necklace down his throat because he wouldn’t accept the money from Jake. Pretty sure Jake snuck some behind the counter when the old man wasn’t looking, anyway.”

“Did you say emerald necklace?” You asked her, head shooting up from where you had rested it back on your arms.

Natasha nodded. “Yeah, it was that really pretty one that sat in the window for forever! I wonder what he did with it? I haven’t seen Sarah with it at all, and she’s the one he buys jewelry for.”

“You mean,” you swallowed, “he didn’t steal it?”

“Jake’s not that kind of man, honey,” Penny smiled. “He sure likes to give off that impression though, doesn’t he? He’d rather you think the worst of him before he corrects you. Thinks it’s the same as humility, the fool.”

“I,” you breathed, feeling your face grow pale. “I told him I wouldn’t accept it because I thought he stole it or bought it with stolen money.”

“Wait, he tried to give it to you?” Birdie asked, eyes wide. “And you told him no?”

“Yes,” you groaned, hanging your head once again. “I’m such a fool.”

“I hardly doubt that it was your own doing,” Bunny muttered, storing the glass she had just finished polishing. “Sure, you’re just as much a fool as he is, but it’s his own damn fault for not telling you.”

“That’s right,” Natasha nodded, turning to face you fully. “You two just need to sit down and talk, tell each other exactly what you mean and what you feel. Christ, I thought your brother was going to chuck that damn pocket watch at Jake’s head when he came slinking into the firm to give it to Benji.”

You sat straight up as your heart stopped, tears gathering in your eyes.

“He did what?” You choked, eyes wide in horror, skin pale and clammy.

Natasha regarded you, seeming to hesitate before continuing. “He came into the firm just last week, trying to give Benji this old, silver pocket watch. Said he picked it up while with you in Baltimore, and that he wanted to return it to where it belonged. I’ve never seen your brother so mad, Scout. I thought he was going to pass out from how loud he was yelling. Told Jake to keep the damn watch and get his head out of his ass.”

You were vaguely aware of Birdie blushing at Nat’s coarse language beside you, but your mind was reeling from the brunette’s words. He had tried to give your father’s pocket watch back? You thought you were going to be sick as you stood, moving to leave the saloon.

“Are you okay, Scout?” Bunny called after you, worry in her voice that was mirrored by the look on Penny’s face.

“I just remembered I have chores that need tending to,” you murmured, moving more on auto-pilot than anything in that moment.

“Do you want me to walk you home?” Natasha offered, already moving to stand, but you waved her off.

“No, no,” you frowned. “I’ll manage on my own, thank you. I have some thinking to do.”

Nat didn’t seem too sure, but slowly sat back down on her stool as you walked briskly out of the saloon and onto the street. The wind whipped at your cheeks, the cold biting your skin and turning it red. You made your way home, mind numb as you replayed Natasha’s words over and over again in your head. He wanted to give the watch back? Was Penny wrong? Were you too late to make amends?

Your heart beat quicker in your chest as your mind ran a mile a minute, hardly noticing the ranch hands that rode up from the far field as you moved mechanically towards the barn. The horses would need fresh hay, and you were running behind on your to-do list for the day. You made your way up to the loft, pushing a large bale of hay towards the ledge, watching as it fell to the ground floor with a large thud. Making your way back down the ladder, you didn’t notice the figure that hovered at the barn door, too absorbed in your own thoughts.

It wasn’t until you felt a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist from behind as you moved to lift the hay bale that you were snapped back to the present.

“God dammit, Scout,” Jake hissed, picking you up and setting you down behind him. “How many times do I have to tell you that this isn’t a job for you?”

You stared at him, saying nothing as he turned around to start sorting out the hay into the different stalls.

“I can do it,” you muttered, taking a step forward. Jake glanced over his shoulder at you with an unimpressed look before going back to what he was doing. You took a step towards him, then another, and then another, and then more until you were standing by the hay, kneeling down as you pushed his hands away.

“I can do it,” you snapped this time, scooping up as much of the hay as you could before moving to stand, stumbling slightly in the process. Jake started towards you, hand outstretched to help you, but you stepped away, glaring up at him. You wouldn’t cry in front of him, you couldn’t.

Jake frowned down at you, dropping his hand back to his side as he regarded you. You felt your bottom lip begin to tremble, and you turned away, trudging towards the nearest stall and dispersing the hay.

“Scout, stop” he sighed, and you ignored him, moving to continue your task. As you made to make your way over to the next stall, Jake grabbed your wrist, stopping you.

“Stop,” he repeated, eyes earnest, shifting to worry as they took you in. You ripped out of his grasp, immediately going on the defensive.

“What?” You growled at him, mustering up all of the false bravado that you could as you met his green eyes. The eyes that you missed so dearly. He seemed to hesitate before squaring his shoulders and rummaging through his pockets.

“I wanted to give you something before you left for Maryland,” he said. You saw a flash of silver as he pulled his hand out. “It seemed only fair that you should have this back.”

He held the pocket watch out to you, the small bird still swooping at the bottom of the ornate design.

“What?” You asked, eyes widening as you stared at the watch. You couldn’t stop the tears that flooded your eyes, and you let out a choked sob as all of your emotions came crashing down at once. Stumbling to the side, a hand stretched out to brace against the stall door, a wail tore from your throat. It was a sound that even surprised you in how raw and unfiltered it was. You gasped for air, but none seemed to come to you as you choked out sob after sob, hardly being able to tell when one ended and the next one started.

Jake’s eyes widened as you fell apart in front of him, watching you wearily as if you were a wild animal that would turn on him at any moment. He took a tentative step towards you, waiting for you to push him back, but was instead surprised when you grasped at him, falling into his arms and latching onto his shirt as if it were the one thing that could keep you grounded. Your wails and sobs still rocked your body, tears now staining the white cotton of Jake’s shirt as you pressed your face into his chest. His arms enveloped you, holding you gently but firmly as he swayed you from side to side. A hand rested on the back of your head, slowly stroking your hair as he pressed his face into your temple. This was what you wanted.

Your cries and tears slowed to a trickle, sobs replaced by hiccups as you regained control of your breathing, Jake gently cooing at you the entire time. Jake moved to pull away, but you clung to him tighter, glancing up at him with wet eyes.

“Please don’t let me go,” you begged him softly, and you saw a whirlwind of emotion in his gaze as he looked at you. He seemed unsure on how to respond at first, but with a set of his jaw, he nodded down at you slowly.

“I’ll be right here until you’re ready to go,” he said. “I’ll hold you until you don’t need me anymore.”

You shook your head, closing your eyes tightly as you pressed yourself firmly against him.

“I’ll always need you,” you whispered, another sob wracking your body. Jake chuckled bitterly.

“No, you won’t,” he muttered, ire in his tone. “You’ll go back to Baltimore, and you’ll find yourself a husband. Someone who can give you all the things you want. Someone who can make you happy.”

He pulled away with more success this time, just enough to hold up the watch.

“You’ll give this to someone who’s deserving of you,” he whispered, his own eyes shining now. “Someone who you love.”

You stared at him, so many emotions swirling within you. This beautiful, stupid man who had insulted you the first time you met him. This man who had inserted himself into your life with little regard to social etiquette. This man who had pulled a gun for you when you were vulnerable and scared. This man who had carved you not one, but two beautiful presents. This man that had threatened to kill for you simply because you had cried. This man that listened to you and respected your moral code enough to go out and get an honest job. This man that stood before you, ready to let you leave without a second thought because he thought it was what you wanted.

“I’m not going back to Baltimore,” you said finally, face grave as you spoke. Jake’s eyebrows shot up in shock.

“You’re not?” He asked you.

“Jake, it’s been three weeks since we returned,” you replied, frowning. “If I was so eager to go back, don’t you think I would have left by now?”

“I think there’s a lot of planning that goes into something like that,” he countered. You scowled at him, pulling away completely now and putting some distance between the two of you.

“Nat told me you tried to give the watch to Benji,” you accused, glaring at the offending silver pendant.

“Did she tell you that he wouldn’t take it?” He countered with a frown.

“She did,” you confirmed, clasping your hands in front of you. “Said that my brother practically threw it back in your face, he was so angry.”

“That temper appears to be a family trait,” he muttered, and you had to suppress a smile.

You were still mad at him, after all.

“I figured,” he continued, taking a step forward, “that he just wanted me to give it back to you. It’s a family heirloom, and he has his own. It’s an important thing to you, and it’s only fair that you should give it to the person you want to spend the rest of your life with.”

He held the watch out to you, and the two of you stared at each other for a moment. Slowly, deliberately, you reached out and took the watch from him. You ran your fingers over the plants and birds etched into the sides with care, contemplating your next words.

“You’re right,” you hummed, glancing up at him. His jaw was set, eyes glistening as he watched you. “This watch should go to someone who I can call my husband. Someone who can give me the things that I want and who will make me happy.”

Jake sucked in a breath, shifting from one foot to the other as you continued.

“Someone who is deserving of me,” you breathed, eyes shining as you gazed up at him. “Someone who I love.”

Jake hung his head as you finished, and you caught the faintest hint of a sniffle as you stepped forward. You took his right hand in yours, squeezing it lightly before opening it and placing the pocket watch back into his grasp. You gently curled his fingers around it, holding his hand in both of yours as you looked up at him.

His green eyes bore into yours, a questioning look on his face as he frowned.

“I don’t understand,” he murmured, shaking his head. You rolled your eyes, moving to wrap your arms around his neck as you leaned into him. Without a thought, he wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you close as your lips hovered over his.

“You idiot,” you chuckled, eyelids drooping as you stared into his eyes, willing him to see what the two of you had known all along. “I love you.”

Jake stared at you, eyes widened in shock. He studied you, seeming to try and find any trace of deception. When he saw that there was none, a grin broke out on his face.

“You do?” He asked quietly, eyes sparkling with joy now.

“Mhm,” you nodded, leaning in closer so that your lips brushed his gently. “I love you, Jake.”

His lips crashed against yours, desperate to feel you. You kissed him back with just as much passion, breaking away after a few moments. Jake’s lips chased after yours, but you pulled away from him with a giggle.

“Come with me,” you said in a hushed voice, grabbing his hand and pulling him out of the barn. Jake followed you eagerly, practically racing you up the steps and into the house. Your home was silent, indicating that no one else was there, and you quickly pulled Jake up the stairs and into your room.

Once you had crossed the threshold, Jake slammed the door shut, spinning you around so that you were pressed up against it. His lips grazed yours as his hands ran around to grab the back of your thighs, hoisting you up and locking them around his waist. His lips molded to yours as he pressed against your core, and you gasped as you felt the hard evidence of his desire press into your most sensitive parts, and Jake used this as an opportunity to slide his tongue against yours in languid strokes.

“Need you,” he moaned desperately, nipping at your bottom lip. Your hands ran across his shoulders, your right running up to tug on the strands of blond that curled at the nape of his neck. He let out a moan that had you grinding your core back against him, earning a whimper from the man in front of you.

“You have me,” you promised, pulling him back in for a kiss. His tongue was hot against you as you continued to grind down onto him. His hands moved to your hips, guiding your movements as he thrust up into you every so often. His lips pulled away from yours as he pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses from the corner of your mouth to the bottom of your earlobe. He sucked the flesh in between his lips, nibbling on it lightly before letting it go.

“Say it,” he breathed, hand palming at your breasts as you let out a wanton moan. You tilted your head as he began to suck on a patch of sensitive skin, making you see stars as he nipped every so often, laving the spot with his tongue. “Come on, honey girl. Say it.”

“I love you,” you gasped when he gave a particularly hard bite to the same spot just as he thrust up into you. Jake smirked against your neck, letting your legs drop from around him as he pulled back. You whined at the loss of contact, which only made Jake’s smirk grow bigger.

“Don’t worry, pretty girl,” he cooed, moving to sit at the foot of the bed. “Can’t do what we’re about to do with clothes on, can we?”

It took you a second to understand what he was saying. You supposed you should have felt apprehension at the very least, but in that moment, all you could feel was a mixture of desire and…love.

You quickly undid the buttons of your skirt, letting it fall to the floor. You then removed your socks and shoes, followed quickly by your shirt and then your bloomers. You were soon left standing in front of Jake in nothing but your corset and chemise. While you had undressed, Jake had removed his own clothing, now standing in front of you in just his drawers. You felt a blush creep up your neck as he stared at you, a familiar warmth in his green gaze.

Jake walked back over to you slowly, raising a hand to unlace your corset. You sucked in a breath as it fell away from you, hitting the floor with a light thud. His hands moved to the bottom of your corset, pausing as he looked at you for permission. You nodded, swallowing thickly as his fingers gripped the bottom of the garment, pulling it up and over your head. You were completely exposed to him now, and you moved to cover yourself out of embarrassment.

“No,” Jake murmured, shaking his head as he gazed at you. “I want to see you, honey girl. Want to see what’s mine.”

You shuddered at his words, a jolt of pleasure running up your spine as you pressed your thighs together. The movement didn’t go unnoticed by Jake who chuckled lightly before turning you gently so that the backs of your knees brushed the bed. He laid you down, shifting you so that your head rested against the pillows. You reached for him, and Jake leaned down to press his lips to yours once again, licking into your mouth with soft, deliberate strokes.

You gasped when you felt his fingers trace your folds, gathering the wetness that lay there and stroking back up to your clit. Your hips jolted off the bed, and he hushed you, pressing his lips in gentle kisses back towards your ear.

“Already so wet for me, sweetheart,” he chuckled, drawing small figure eights onto your clit, and you mewled at the sensation. “Always so responsive for me. Always such a good girl for me. How did I get so lucky to have such a sweet little thing like you in my life, hm?”

“Jakey,” you breathed, locking eyes with his as he pressed a finger into you, causing your back to arch off the bed.

“It’s okay, honey girl,” he cooed, reaching up to stroke your hair. “I’ve got you, sweet thing. Always feel so tight and warm. Can’t wait to feel you wrapped around my cock.”

You felt yourself clench at his words and he added a second finger, scissoring you open as he continued to stroke into you.

“You like the sound of that, huh?” He chuckled, placing a tender kiss to your jaw. “Like the sound of me filling you up? Giving you what you need?”

You nodded your head vigorously, eyes never leaving his. He smirked once again, looking down at where his fingers disappeared inside you before glancing back up.

“Tell me what it is you need, baby,” he whispered, watching you fall apart as he added a third finger and hitting that spongy spot inside of you. You mewled, throwing your head back. Jake kissed down the column of your throat and over the curve of your breast. He took your right nipple into his mouth, laving the bud with his tongue. The sensations were becoming too much, and you felt the familiar tingle begin to grow in your lower stomach.

Jake let go of you with a quiet pop before switching his attention to your other breast. Your hands were still tangled in his hair, holding him to you as your hips raised in time with the stroke of his fingers, desperately chasing your high.

“Come on, sweet girl,” he rasped, gazing up at you from between the valley of your breasts. “Tell me what you need.”

“Need your cock, Jakey,” you whimpered, grinding down on his fingers. “Need you inside me. Need to feel you fill me up. Need you.”

Jake reached up to take your bottom lip between his teeth, sucking on it gently before pulling it and letting it go.

“You have me,” he echoed your words from earlier. “Now come.”

At his command, the pleasure inside you burst, washing over you in waves as you cried out, clawing at his shoulders as he continued to pump his fingers into you slowly, riding out your high. As you came down, he slipped his fingers out of you, and you felt bereft of his touch. You watched in awe as you raised his fingers to his lips, taking them into his mouth as he made a show of licking them clean.

“Just like honey,” he hummed. You reached for him, pulling him to you as you kissed him. You licked into his mouth, moaning as you tasted yourself on his tongue. You pulled back just enough to speak against his lips.

“Want you inside of me,” you breathed, staring into his eyes, the green swallowed whole by the black of his pupils. “Want you to make love to me.”

Jake’s breath hitched as he studied you.

“Are you sure?” He asked you, and you nodded, reaching a hand down in between the two of you to grasp his hard length. Jake nearly choked as you ran your palm up and down him, grasping lightly every so often.

“I’m sure,” you whispered. Jake’s eyes bore into yours before nodding, shuffling out of his own drawers, baring himself to you. Your eyes widened as you took him in. His shaft curved towards his stomach, the tip an angry red as it leaked pre-cum.

You swallowed thickly, reaching your hand out once more to run your fingertips over the head, moving down to grip him firmly. Jake let out a low groan, throwing his head back as you stroked him experimentally.

“So good for me, darlin’,” he moaned, reaching down to remove your hand. He shot you a playful wink as he slipped his fingers through yours, resting them by your head. “But if you keep that up, I’m going to come before we even get to the fun part.”

You smiled shyly up at him as he took a hold of himself, running his length up and down your folds to gather the wetness you so freely gave him. You let out a high-pitched whimper every time the tip brushed against your clit, and you threw your head back at the pleasurable feeling. Finally, Jake rested the head against you, glancing up at you once more.

“Are you sure?” He asked you, and you nodded.

“Please, Jakey,” you whined. Jake pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth before leaning back. You gasped as you felt him press the head of his cock into your tight hole, the sensation foreign but not altogether unpleasant. He pressed a little more of his length in, pausing to let you accommodate to his size. He cradled you in his arms, leaning back down to whisper gentle words of encouragement into your ear as he slowly pressed more and more of himself into you. After what felt like ages, you finally felt the coarse hairs of his base press against your clit, sending a shock of pleasure up your spine that had you clenching around him. Jake let out a hiss, pressing his face into the column of your throat. Jake took your other hand in his, lacing his fingers through yours and pressing them on the other side of your head mirror to the ones on your right. He pulled back to look at you, eyes hazy with pleasure.

“I’m going to move now, okay?” He asked you, and you nodded, whining as he pulled back out of you slowly before thrusting back in. He continued his movement, brushing his nose against yours as his pace built, the head of him hitting that spot inside you with every pass. It wasn’t long before the vague discomfort gave way to pleasure, and soon your hips were raising to meet his.

“Such a good girl,” he moaned, giving you a kiss that was more teeth than lips. “Feel so fucking good wrapped around me like this. Taking me so well, yeah? Can feel you squeezing me, gripping me like you don’t ever want me to leave. Your cunt is so greedy for me and my big cock, huh? Such a greedy pussy, and it’s all mine now.”

You moaned wantonly at his words, your head thrown back into the pillows as he continued to rut into your soaked core. A squelching sound could be heard from where your bodies connected, but you didn’t have it in you to feel embarrassed. Not when his cock was hitting you in all the right places, his filthy words only adding to your excitement.

“Jakey,” you cried, feeling the pleasure begin to peak. Jake grunted as you clenched particularly hard around him.

“That’s it, honey girl,” he cooed, releasing your hand to cup your cheek as he gazed down at you. “Want you to cum around me, milk me dry. Milk me for all I’m worth. My balls have been aching for weeks. Havin’ to jerk off at the thought of what this sweet cunt would feel like when she drains me dry. Oh, fuck.

He gasped as your pussy spasmed around him.

“That turn you on, baby? The thought of me jerkin’ off to the thought of fillin’ you up with my cum? This pretty, little pussy is just begging me to come inside her, huh?” He groaned, thrusts becoming harder, and you could feel the coil begin to tighten.

“You close, huh, honey? I can feel how close you are. Can feel how hard your grippin’ me. That’s it, sweetheart. Come for me. Come all over my cock.”

His words were all the permission you needed, and you came with a loud cry, body spasming underneath him as he continued to stroke in and out of you as you rode out your high. Jake’s hips began to move faster, chasing his own high as he pistoned in and out of you, the sound of skin slapping echoing throughout the room.

“Gonna fill you up, honey girl,” he groaned, eyes glazed over as pleasure washed over him. “Gonna fill you up, and maybe even knock you up. How’s that sound? Just thinkin’ about you all round and swollen with my baby has me goin’ crazy. Want you leakin’ with my cum by the time I’m through with you. Everybody in town is going to know you’re my girl, and they’ll know how good I make you feel. How good I take care of my girl. Fuck.”

His words had you tightening around him. They shouldn’t have made you feel the way you were feeling, but the sight of Jake so lost in the feel of you as he neared his end had another orgasm ripping through you, right off the back of the first one.

“Knew you’d like the sound of that,” he smirked, thrusts becoming sloppy. “I’m gonna come so hard for you, baby. Gonna fill you up with so much cum you’ll be leaking me for days. Shit. Need to hear you say it, baby. Tell me what you told me earlier. Be my good fucking girl and tell me.”

“I love you,” you keened, barely coherent as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. “Want you to fill me up, Jakey, please. Wanna feel you.”

“Shit, darlin’,” he gasped hips stuttering, and you felt red hot spurts begin to fill you. Jake pinched his eyes closed, lost in his own pleasure as he began to babble. “Fuck! Oh, fuck, I’m coming. I’m coming for you, baby. It’s all for you, that’s it. Take it. Take all of it and milk me. Jesus Christ. Oh, I love you. I love you. I love you so much, Scout. Oh…”

His hips slowed as his orgasm subsided, and he practically collapsed on top of you as the last tremors of his release rocked through him. You ran your fingers through his hair, skin hot and sweaty as you both calmed down. Jake’s head rested against your chest, and you let out a contented sigh as he placed a gentle kiss to the swell of your breast before looking up at you. His green eyes were filled with love and awe, emotions that you were sure reflected in your own.

“I love you,” he murmured, earning a small smile.

“I love you too.”

You awoke the next morning feeling a soreness between your legs, but a pleasant buzz filling you nonetheless. You shifted, taking note of the strong arms that held you tighter against a broad chest at your back. Warm lips pressed gentle kisses up the curve of your shoulder and to your temple.

“Good morning, honey girl.”

You smiled turning to meet the bright green eyes of Jake Seresin.

“Good morning,” you greeted softly, turning so that you faced him. His head was propped up against his hand as the other one traced up and down your side. “I’m surprised you’re still here. I figured you’d be sick of me by now.”

“Sick of you?” He chuckled, shaking his head, leaning forward to meet you in a lazy kiss before pulling back. “I’ll never get sick of you, pretty girl.”

“So,” you hummed, glancing at him slyly. “What’s next?”

“Well,” he began, smirking lightly. “I figured we’d get dressed, and we’d go downstairs so I could make you breakfast, and then we have a repeat of last night.”

“Is that all you want?” you asked him quietly, insecurity rearing its ugly head as he spoke. His smirk dropped into a frown, and he shook his head.

“No,” he stated firmly, looking at you seriously. “No, Scout. I meant what I said. I love you. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything. I intend to make an honest woman out of you if you’ll have me.”

You smiled at his words, biting your lip to keep from smiling.

“I suppose you’ll do,” you smirked, earning a chuckle from the blond.

“You’re such a tease,” he admonished, leaning in to press his lips to yours. You opened your mouth to him, letting him stroke your tongue with his in easy strokes.

“Jake!”

The two of you jumped as you heard the front door slam shut, Bradley’s voice carrying up the stairs. Your eyes widened as you scrambled to get out of bed, searching for some article of clothing to throw on to preserve your modesty.

“Jake, I know you’re in here. I need your help!”

Jake cursed from the other side of the bed, throwing his trousers and shirt on as you threw your chemise over your head just as Bradley burst through the door. Jake scowled at him, moving to shield your body with his.

“Don’t you know how to knock?” He snapped, glaring up at the brunette. Bradley rolled his eyes, giving you an apologetic smile.

“Hey, Scout,” he greeted briefly before turning his attention back to Jake. “Look, I’m glad that the two of you have made up, but this is serious. I need your help to wrangle the group.”

“What’s going on? Did Javy sleep with someone’s wife again?” Jake scowled, watching you as you moved to put more clothing on. “If you hadn’t guessed, I’m kind of busy, and Javy is a big boy. He can take care of his own messes.”

Bradley shook his head. “It’s not Javy, it’s Bob.”

Jake and you became more alert at that, eyes shooting up to look at Bradley as he stood in the doorway, shifting from one foot to the other nervously.

“What do you mean?” Jake questioned, scrambling to put his boots on.

“Some men down at the saloon were saying some pretty nasty shit to Bunny, and Bob stepped in. That’s when I came to get you ‘cause I knew it was about to get nasty, and I need all the help I can get.”

“Shit,” Jake muttered, turning to look at you. He placed his hands on your shoulders, giving you a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I need you to stay here, honey girl.”

“What?” You frowned, shaking your head. “No, I’m coming with you.”

“Scout, please,” he pleaded, looking at you with furrowed brows. “This could get ugly, and I’d feel a lot better knowing that you are here at home. Safe. Will you please just do this for me?”

You regarded him for a moment, nodding finally, and Jake let out a relieved sigh. He pressed a chaste kiss to your lips before turning to follow Bradley out the door. “I’ll be back before you know it, okay?”

He disappeared down the hall, and a few moments later you heard the front door slam shut once more. You sighed, looking around the room before deciding to strip your sheets. It took you a few minutes to gather all of them, placing them in the basket by the door and moving with it downstairs. You placed the basket by the back door, eyeing the kitchen before shaking your head.

“Ridiculous,” you muttered, making for the front door. You walked briskly down the road and towards the saloon where a small crowd had gathered. You pushed your way through, earning jeers and curses from the people around you. Just as you made your way to the front of the crowd, your heart dropped, ice chilling your bones. You saw Marshal Simpson slam Jake up against the side of the saloon, cuffing his hands behind his back. Jake winced at the rough treatment, Simpson hauling him back so roughly that he stumbled a ways, glaring back at the older man.

“Is this all really necessary?” Jake drawled, sarcasm dripping from his tone as Simpson scowled.

“Yes,” the marshal snapped, pushing Jake forward as they began to walk. Jake’s eyes scanned the crowd as he moved, eyes landing on you, softening. He paused in front of you, and you felt the tears begin to stream down your face.

“Hey, sweet girl,” he whispered, glancing back at Simpson who glanced between the two of you. “Everything is going to be alright, yeah? Don’t you worry about a thing. I’ll be out as a free man before you know it.”

“You shouldn’t lie to her, Hangman,” Simpson said, casting you a sympathetic look. “We all know that this is the end of the line for you.”

Jake frowned at his words, moving to say something before Marshal Simpson pushed him forward towards the town jail. Jake cast looked over his shoulder at you, giving you a tight smile before being ushered through the doors.

Your eyes scanned the street for anyone who might be able to help, but you didn’t see any of the other Daggers as the crowd began to disperse. You felt despair and hopelessness fill you. You had been so close to happiness, and you knew in your heart that Jake was a different man from the one the marshal was sent to track down.

Your eyes continued to rove over the townsfolk before landing on a familiar face. The pit in your stomach dropped, terror gripping at you as your breath came out in short gasps. Black, bottomless eyes stared right at you, a malicious grin on Isaac’s face as he watched you. You choked back a scream as he tipped his hat to you, and a wave of realization hit you.

This had been a setup, a trap. Isaac had planned this, and he had set the Dagger Posse up to be arrested. As far as you knew, Jake was the only one that had been caught, but that would have been enough for the man who stood on the opposite side of the street. You gathered your skirts and ran in the opposite direction, desperate to get away from the evil man. You had to find the other Daggers. You had to find Maverick or Tom. Someone had to have a plan on how to get Jake out of this mess.

You rounded a building off of the main street, leaning against it and sinking to the ground. You let the tears flow freely, the sense of helplessness overtaking you as you realized just how much trouble Jake was in. Even if you managed to get him out, there was no guarantee that it would be legally or without injury to someone, and yet you were determined to try.

You had just had a taste of what it would be like to lose Jake, and the thought alone sent another wave of tears rolling down your cheek. No. No, you would not lose him again. You scrubbed at your eyes, putting on a brave face as you stood. Squaring your shoulders, you glanced around to find you were alone. You made your way back, heading for Maverick and Penny’s home.

Someone would have a plan, and you were bound and determined to help.

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[heartbreakprincehbk]

Fool For You (David Von Erich x Reader x Kerry Von Erich)

Words: 4,046

Summary: A tale old as time; an angsty love triangle. Requested by @richiejerimovichh ! Thanks for being patient hun!

“Oh, finally. Y/N’s here!” You could hear in the distance as you walked up the long Von Erich dirt driveway. You already wore a grin on your face as you heard a scuffle of shoes approaching like a pack of wild animals. 

It was hard to really explain how you found yourself as an unofficial member of the Von Erich clan. Really, it had more to do with vicinity; your parents knew Fritz and Doris and you went to the same school as all the brothers. You were at the Sportatorium for every show, like most of your old classmates, and even got a job there taking tickets after your senior year. That turned into becoming a member of the office, which turned into befriending the Von Erichs, which turned into late night burger joints and shakes and family dinners. Pretty soon, you were letting yourself into their home and getting greeted just like any other family member.

Mike had been the voice you heard, and the relief was evident all over his face; he and his brothers had been playing football and you were–hopefully–his way out.

“I’m so happy to see you.” He told you breathlessly, nearly falling into your arms. You laughed as you hugged him back, steadying him on his feet.

“This ain’t over yet, Mike.” Kevin warned, giving his brother a playful push so he could hug you in greeting next. “Dave and I ain’t done with you and Kerry yet. Hey, Y/N. Did you pick up a movie for movie night?”

“Kevin, movie night isn’t until a few more days. I’ve got time! Can’t you take it one day at a time like the rest of us?” You teased, making Mike laugh. “So, I see I’m just in time. Who’s winning?”

“Who do you think?” David was approaching quickly, a bright light in his eyes, eyes that were locked solely on you. Just the sight of him set a swarm of butterflies loose in your chest. “I sure am glad to see your pretty face. It’s a sight for sore eyes around here.” He said just before he swept you up into a hug that brought you off your feet. 

Where to start with David…and where did it end?

Kevin was like the older brother you always wanted, always keeping you dutifully on your toes and there for you with advice when you needed it. Mike was like the baby brother you always wanted, and he looked to you for the advice and comfort. It was the best of both worlds. But David…

David was just so funny and charismatic. He had a quiet assuredness to him that you always admired. So, the fact that he always seemed to have his eyes on you made your heart skip a beat. The passenger’s seat in his truck was your designated seat; he wouldn’t let anyone else have it. If ever you and his brothers went anywhere, it was unspoken that you were riding with him. He saved you a seat at the dinner table next to him, his coat was the one offered if you got chilly. 

And yet, despite all of that, despite him constantly driving you home and spending any spare chance he got in your office while you worked, that seemed to be all it was. Sure, there were lingering looks. His hand touching yours a second too long. He had drunkenly kissed your cheek an inch from your mouth one night, but any solid admittance of romantic feelings? There was none.

So were you wrong in thinking maybe there was more to it? Maybe. Did it stop you from hoping? Not a chance. And if that made you foolish, then you were the biggest fool.

“You won’t be winning for long.” Another voice brought you out of your thoughts. You glanced over David’s shoulder and finally saw Kerry, who, curiously, also only eyed you. 

“Shoot. Wanna bet, brother?” David said, almost reluctantly placing you back on the ground. Kerry approached you and gave you a tight hug, one that lingered longer than you were expecting.

“Hey, Y/N. Missed you.” He murmured softly, close to your ear. It sent a shiver up your spine.

“Hey, Kerry.” You replied, left mystified as he finally let go. The touch of his skin left yours tingling. You weren’t quite sure if you were imagining the glare on David’s features.

“Are you joining us, Y/N?” Mike asked hopefully. You managed to smile again, shaking off the last interaction. 

“No, sorry, buddy. I’m gonna help your mom set up dinner. Kev, is Pam comin’?” Kevin nodded in the affirmative. You turned to Kerry. “What about Becky?” 

Becky was Kerry’s most recent girlfriend. You had only met her once, the first time he had brought her around the family. She was beautiful, such a vibrant bubbly person that made you just want to be a better person. Kerry looked away at your question.

“Nah. We’re not together anymore.” His response was quiet. It felt like tripping into a hidden hole in the grass and you wished you hadn’t asked.

“Oh…I’m sorry to hear that.” You replied. Kerry now looked right at you, his eyes clear.

“Don’t be.” You blinked. Now, you were certain the glare on David’s face was real.

“C’mon! Less chit chat, let’s finish this game.” David interrupted gruffly. You left them to their game, chuckling a little at the exasperation on Mike’s face. 

After dinner, once you finally convinced Doris to let you do the dishes and shooed off Pam to enjoy some of Kevin’s company, you were scrubbing plates in a comfortable silence. 

“You know, it goes by faster if two people do it.” You gasped and dropped the plate you were holding into the suds and water.

“Kerry? Don’t scare me like that!” You scolded. He approached your side with a chuckle, leaning against the counter. “I’m all good, really. Don’t you and your brothers have a show to be preparing for?”

“Exactly. We’re leaving in an hour. You’re coming to watch, right?” You gave a nod. “Okay, so let’s get it done faster.” He pleaded with you with his eyes and you sighed.

“Fine. You dry. And you better be better than Mike at polishing these forks.” You warned. Kerry chuckled again.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Soon, the comfortable silence was back, this time with the addition of Kerry, his large arm touching yours as you both worked diligently. But soon, with each plate, you felt the urge to speak nearly consuming you.

“So,” you said finally after clearing your throat. “I know you said not to be, but I really am sorry about bringing up Becky. I had no idea.” You apologized. Kerry was shaking his head.

“I meant it, Y/N. No need to be sorry.”

“So, what happened? She was a really great girl.” Kerry shrugged.

“Yeah…I don’t know. As great as she was, she just wasn’t really the one.” You gave a small chuckle.

“Well, Kerry, you hardly gave her a chance. How would you know?” He paused, looking over at you.

“You just do sometimes. I didn’t feel that with her. She didn’t really like the wrestling part of everything, so it wouldn’t have worked in the long run…and…I guess I realized I was never going to be fair anyways.” You frowned.

“What do you mean?” He looked away, giving another shrug.

“I was always comparing her to someone else. And wishing I was with her instead.” 

He looked at you again, putting the plate he was drying down and turning entirely to face you. You felt your words get caught in your throat and your heart speed up nervously.

“Oh, um…well.” You sputtered out. “A lot of guys make the mistake of not taking a leap and speaking up about how they feel.”

“I know.” Kerry replied. “I’ve seen it. I don’t wanna make the same mistake.” He continued to stare at you and you could’ve sworn he was moving closer.

“Hey, darling, should I wear the red and blue jacket tonight or the black and gold–” David had entered the kitchen and stopped short at the sight of Kerry next to you. You watched his eyes narrow. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, nothing. Just helping Y/N with the dishes. She shouldn’t do all the heavy lifting.” Kerry replied. You nearly elbowed him.

“No, and she doesn’t. That’s what I’m around for. I think Y/N’s capable enough of washing dishes without you slowing her down.” David replied. 

“I really don’t mind!” You cut in, but the brothers continued to stare at each other. The tension in the air was growing thick. “It’s the least I can do for always free-loading around here.”

“It’s a little dumb of you to think a woman should wash the dishes, Dave.” Kerry challenged.

“I never said she should! I know she’s her own person and better than anyone, I know she doesn’t need anyone’s help for anything. She’s not some helpless doll, and the last thing she needs is your help.”

“Just because she doesn’t need it doesn’t mean she should always have to do it on her own.”

“I’d gladly wash the dishes for her if she asked me too, you’re putting words in my mouth! Who’s the one always making sure she gets a plate full of food first or opening the door for her? Who picks up lunch for her every day of the week while she’s working so she doesn’t have to?” David was beginning to yell, and if you weren't the subject, you would have found the entire thing ridiculously amusing. Half of you wanted to laugh at the sudden absurdity and the other half of you was mortified.

“What’s going on?” Kevin demanded as he came into the kitchen. Pam was looking knowingly between Kerry and David before shooting you a sympathetic look that made your face grow warm. “C’mon, Kerry, why don’t you have your bag? We’re gonna be late.”

“You know the red is my favorite.” You said to David after Kerry left up the stairs. He looked a little abashed now that it was just the two of you, fiddling with his fingers and avoiding your eyes.

“Look, Y/N, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean I think it’s your place to do the dishes or something. That was really stupid of me to say, I didn't mean–”

“I know.” You reassured him. He glanced up at you and his mouth opened to say more. You held your breath, waiting to see, but he closed it again.

“I should get my stuff.” He muttered, heading up the stairs. You sighed a little, looking around the little kitchen, aghast. 

***

At the Sportatorium, you took your seat in the front in between Mike and Pam. 

“Everything okay?” Pam asked you. You were jumpy and flinched when she touched your arm. 

“Huh? Oh. Uh…I think so.” You sighed. “I hope so.” You tacked on under your breath. Soon, the main event was on and the brothers were making their way to the ring for a six-man tag match. 

Kevin passed first, giving you a nod and a quick kiss to Pam. Then David, who gave you his yellow rose and a kiss to the top of the head, his red jacket matching your cheeks. But when Kerry came, you weren’t expecting him to stop and wrap his arms around you in a hug, nor were you expecting the kiss to your cheek. You didn't even feel the glares from all the women surrounding you; the only thing you could focus on what the way David had frozen and was now staring in outrage at Kerry.

“Uh oh,” you heard Mike mutter beside you, voicing your thoughts out loud. Suddenly, David took a step towards Kerry and shoved his chest.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? You think I don’t know what you’re doing?” You heard him yell, and noticed a few fans giving the brothers confused looks. Kerry swatted David’s hand away before giving him a shove back.

“Stop it!” You hissed at them, to no avail. It was as if you suddenly weren’t even there. Thankfully, Kevin had turned back and given both of them stern slaps to the shoulder before stepping between them. 

“Cut it out right now, we have a match to do.” You heard him scolding parentally, not before sending an exasperated look in your direction. You felt yourself shrinking lower. 

“Oh god…this is my fault.” You mumbled to yourself, burying your face in your hands and sinking down in your seat. 

“Oh, honey, this is not your fault.” Pam told you quickly, rubbing your shoulders comfortingly. “This is just two grown men acting like silly little boys.”

“Yeah, it’s not your fault they’re acting like kids.” Mike added helpfully, looking desperate to cheer you up. “You can’t blame yourself just because Kerry likes you too.”

“Too?!” you exclaimed. “What are you talking about?” Mike looked genuinely bewildered and Pam once again looked sympathetic. “When did this even happen, how?”

“Oh, honey.” She merely repeated, shaking her head. Your head was spinning.

“Pretty sure Dave knows about Kerry too, but he’s been pretending he doesn’t notice because it’s not really a secret that he likes you." Mike started to try to explain, but you were barely keeping up. "So he’s expecting Kerry to back off because you know, brothers and everything but—"

“If he didn’t know before, which he did, he does now.” Pam said, her eyes watching as David and Kerry appeared to continue arguing from where they stood on the ring apron with Kevin in the ring.

“First of all, David’s never even asked me out.” You replied finally.

“That’s what I said!” Mike seemed to defend himself. “But he just says he’s waiting for the right time. We think he’s kinda nervous you do actually like Kerry. Do you?” You blinked several times again.

“Oh my god…these boys.” You sighed, burying your head again.

You continued to watch the match unfold through squinted eyes that were further blocked with your hands, nervous that at any point David and Kerry were going to start swinging on each other instead of their opponents. Pam had her arm looped through yours, a helpful anchor keeping you from floating away. Thankfully, they seemed to be fine, and only you, Pam, and Mike were aware of the coldness between Kerry and David. As soon as Kevin got the pin, Kerry left the ring, ignoring fans all the way to the dressing room. David wasn’t far behind him, leaving Kevin to slap fans hands and sign autographs. 

“I’ve got to fix this.” You said, to yourself more than anyone else. Mike and Pam were on your heels, but you all stopped short at the sound of two voices thundering inside the dressing room. You winced.

“Mike, please go in there and grab Kerry for me.” You begged. Mike’s eyes widened. 

“So it is Kerry?”

“Michael, please! Before they do something!” He snapped out of it and dutifully ducked into the room. You cringed as the yelling only picked up, ten times worse. There was a clattering sound of something metal hitting something.

“I can’t tell if you’re the best thing that happened to this family…or the worst.” You jumped at the sound of Kevin’s voice behind you and groaned at his words. Thankfully, he seemed to have a half humorous grin on his face. Pam hit his shoulder lightly, shaking her head in disapproval.

“This is not her fault!” She insisted. Kevin shook his head.

“No, I know. Took everything in me to keep them from going at each other in the ring.” He muttered, looking towards the dressing room with a grimace. You groaned.

“Kev…I’m not trying to do this! The last thing I want is to get between them. I don’t want to be the reason they hate each other; if that’s the case, I’ll remove myself from this situation.”

“Hey! No one wants you to leave.” Kevin said. “We love each other to death. That just means sometimes we fight too. But we always work it out. Dave and Kerry are just gonna have to accept whatever decision you make. And they’ll have to respect it.” You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Kerry came out of the dressing room at the moment. The second he left, the door slammed shut behind him, presumably David’s doing.

“After I talk with Kerry, can you make sure you stick around waiting in the parking lot?” You lowered your voice to Pam and Kevin. You knew instantly Pam understood. Kevin opened his mouth in question, but she pressed a finger to his lips.

“We got it.” She assured you, and gave your arm a squeeze. As they walked away, Kerry approached. It was just the two of you in the dingy backstage hallway.

“Hey,” Kerry said lightly, a small smile on his face. “Mike said you wanted to see me.” 

“I did…” you said, before you sighed. “Listen, Kerry…I…” you looked from the smile on his face to your shoes and the scuffs on the ground next to them. You traced circles around the marks with the toe of your shoe.

“Let me stop you for one second, Y/N.” Kerry said. You frowned a little. 

“But, Kerry—“

“Just listen, please. Y/N…I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t. All those girls out there on the way to the ring, it’s like they’re not there. All I see is your face. I dreamt about you the other night. We were together in a house of our own, just making breakfast. I mean, I know we’ve been friends for a while and everything but…I really care about you. It’s just what I meant, about Becky. I couldn’t see it working out no matter how much I tried, but with you…” You bit your lip, still unable to look up, knowing the scuffs on the floor were going to be committed to your memory forever. “Y/N?” You felt his fingers tilt your chin up gently and looked into his side eyes, like a beautiful sunny day. You allowed yourself for a second to jump into them, imagining what that path could bring. The breakfast he had mentioned, the house. Knowing every time you stepped out with him, he was the envy of every woman around you. The passion that he carried for everything and every goal would now also be geared towards you and loving you so completely and fully. 

And it still didn’t feel right. Because you could see it all; the picturesque home, a loving embrace, maybe even a family of your own…but Kerry wasn’t the person in your dream. 

“Kerry, I’m sorry. I don’t feel that way for you.” You whispered. “I’m sorry. I’ll always care for you as a person, but I can’t be your person.” He stared back unwaveringly, and to his credit, he nodded his head and stepped back.

“I understand that. I’m…sorry if I ruined any of the kindness you have in your heart towards me, or made you uncomfortable, I just thought that…” he sighed and straightened up again. “I should be honest. I’ll work real hard to make everything right again, alright?”

“It’s okay, Kerry. Consider this conversation forgotten.” He grinned a little.

“I do feel a little stupid now, though.” He admitted, making you laugh. “I should have known it was always David.” Just at his name alone, those familiar butterflies rushed back. You smiled.

“I really need to see him. Kevin and Pam should be waiting out back for you and Mike. I need to talk to David.” Kerry nodded, and you knocked on the dressing room door. Mike’s face appeared, looking eager for some kind of update.

“I need to talk to David.” You told him. He looked over your head to where Kerry was waiting. “Alone.”

“Oh…uh. Right.” Mike replied, still looking confused, but quickly leaving the room to join Kerry. You walked in and shut the door behind you before taking in the surroundings. There was a chair laying on the floor next to the wall, seemingly laying there after being thrown if the dent in the wall was any clue. David was sitting in another chair, one hand pressed to his mouth and the other wrapped around his midsection. He was staring at the floor, one leg shaking.

“Hey…” you murmured, not taking a step. There was a long pause.

“Y/N, you really don’t have to do this.” He said finally. “I don’t need a little pep talk, or for you to tell me how great I am but just not the right one or something. I’m a big boy, I’ll be just fine with your decision.” You frowned.

“David…”

“Really.” He said, looking up at you. “I mean, it’s Kerry for crying out loud. I get it, alright? I mean, I’ve seen every day how girls look at him. He’s great. I’m not mad, I promise. I’ll be happy for you both.”

“David, wait, seriously—“

“No, I don’t want you trying to make me feel better, Y/N.” He stood suddenly as if he couldn’t contain himself in the chair any longer. “It’s really my own fault anyways. You’re one helluva lady, you know that? Every day, I just look at you and I can’t believe you’re real. And in front of me, just sorta breathing the same air as me. I just can’t get enough of you, and I should have done something about it sooner, but I’ll admit I was scared, alright? Because you’re way out of my league, but I should have made it known. I should have told you time and time again every second how I felt, I should have treated you like it. But I just want you to be happy. I swear it. And at the end of the day, if it’s with my own brother, then that’s fine. I know he’ll take care of you.” Despite his words, you could see the unhappiness burning in his eyes. You couldn’t help but admire every word coming from his mouth, you couldn’t help but stare at his mouth, desperate to shut him up with a kiss. 

“Are you finished?” You asked. His face frowned and you couldn’t help but chuckle. “Now, what on earth did Mike tell you?” David’s frown deepened.

“That you needed to talk to Kerry.”

“Okay. Is that all?” He frowned even further.

“He just started consoling me and telling me it ain’t your fault, which I never said it was—I would never blame you. Then some, you know, run of the mill peppy speech about fish in the sea…” At this point, you gave an outright laugh. “Oh, now you’re laughing at me?”

“You and Mike really should learn not to jump to conclusions so quickly. Didn’t your father ever tell you about making assumptions?” David’s face melted slowly from confusion to a hopeful wide eyed wonder. 

“…What are you saying?”

“I love Kerry, but not like that. Not like…how I’ve always felt about you.” 

David crossed the room within the blink of an eye and suddenly hoisted you into the air, his face buried against your neck, his arms encasing you against him.

“Oh, Y/N…oh man. You had me losing my mind.” He admitted, voice muffled against your skin. “You mean it?” He asked, leaning back to check your expression.

“Do you?” You demanded cheekily. “On second thought, maybe you should listen to Mike more. I’m still waiting for you to ask me out, David Von Erich.” David's head tilted back in laughter. 

“You got it, darling, I’m not wastin’ a second more. How about this Friday?” 

“That’s movie night; Kev’s not gonna be too happy with that.” You replied, giggling. David laughed again, and the both of you seemed dizzied in relief and euphoria, gripping each other tightly with the hands and yet, weak at the knees.

“Well, Kev’s just gonna have to deal with it. We’ll do movie night another night.” David said, placing you back on the ground and kissing the top of your head. Finally, finally, everything felt right.

#iron claw imagine #david von erich imagine

[cherryjuiceblues]

𝐕𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐄 | 𝟓

➯ Y/N ONLY WANTS ONE THING AND HARRY IS LEARNING TO RELAX ENOUGH TO GIVE IT TO HER. ✰ demon!harry resolved angst. sexual content. minors dni. 𝑤𝑐 16.6k ッ vanilla lime masterlist

Y/N is trying really hard not to cry.

Partly because once she does open the floodgates there is no going back in her admittance of how deeply she needs Harry and partly because if she starts she knows she won’t stop and he hasn’t even been gone a full minute.

ㅤㅤ

When she’d woken up, lax underneath his sweet smelling sheets, she knew—knew that if she didn’t go home that morning that she would never leave. And Harry’s lack of presence beside her was a blessing, otherwise she knows she would’ve been coaxed back to her fantasy land (that she’d tried so hard to distance herself from).

He hadn’t said much when she appeared meekly in front of him; had had a sliver of hope that the blissed out expression she had fallen asleep with might have stayed, but he could tell that she’d made her decision. And he hadn’t tried to change her mind, almost to Y/N’s disappointment—did he not want her as much as she thought he might? Was he fighting their connection and winning?

But Harry’s heart was heavy in his chest. Still is now, as he stands in front of her, back in her own living room.

“Thank you, Harry,” Y/N reluctantly starts, “for… for a lot of things.” She smiles sadly at the ground, willing herself not to tear up. She wonders how she would be feeling if their souls weren’t bound. Relief, perhaps. Or nothing at all.

He watches her. Notices the subtle clench of her eyelids to press the tears back in and the way her palms flatten against her thighs. He should say something but the words don’t form.

“I know this can’t have been the most exciting week of your life, but I definitely won’t forget it any time soon.” What are you saying? She swallows. “Will I see you again?” Y/N lifts her eyes up to meet his devastating green, brows furrowed in the slightest indication of his discontent.

“If you ever need the help of a demon,” Harry straightens his posture, “I’m sure I can find my way back.”

That’s not the circumstance she meant and they both know it. Y/N fails to hide the disappointment on her face but doesn’t voice it.

“Okay,” she whispers, voice intending to be louder but her throat clogs. Harry wants to swoop her up in his arms—but he doesn’t. He steps back.

“Bye, Bambi.” Y/N feels her lungs quiver under the weight of the sad gasp she nearly inhales, tears well on their way to clouding her vision. But she blinks them away quickly; refuses to miss the last sight of him as he looks at her. He’s doing a much better job of hiding his pain but Y/N can feel it, or at least she believes she can—if it makes her feel better about the way she’s ready to sob.

Harry gives her one final small smile, failing to reach his eyes, and then he’s gone. Completely and utterly absent, with the gentle breeze his leave creates whirling his usually soothing scent right into Y/N’s face. Only this time it smells bitter. And her waterline is so close to spilling over but she refuses to blink—instead knuckles at her eyes furiously and lets out some deep breaths. More open-mouthed forcings of air than controlled breathing but it works.

ㅤㅤ

She stands in her living room, head tilted back towards the ceiling, for longer than she’d like to admit until the jarring sound of her phone jolts her out of her maladaptive thinking. Another text from Sarah.

just making sure you’re alive…

haven’t heard from u in a couple days, u ok?

Y/N sighs as guilt rushes over her and temporarily replaces the despair. It’s not like she has intentionally been ignoring her friend but it was hard to reply to a ‘how are u?’ and a ‘u ok?’ text when there were no words to reply with. She already knows she won’t be telling Sarah anything, had known from the first day, and it eats away inside of her but she’s adamant it’s for the best.

hey, sorry i haven’t replied. been busy. i’m okay, how are you? x 

The telling bubbles that indicate Sarah is replying appear as soon as Y/N hits send and she deflates a little.

HELLO!

i’ve missed u

i’m good, slumped at work but you know how that is.

u free to meet up soon?

She’ll admit she does smile a little at her friend’s enthusiasm—nice to know that she’s cared about—and quickly types a response with the promise of being available at the weekend. Sarah seems satisfied with her answer and promises that they’ll have a good catch up. And whilst Y/N is relieved to not have to pretend that everything is okay anymore, as she tosses her phone towards her sofa, she’s once again left with her thoughts. The only thoughts her brain is capable of having; about Harry.

Imogen looks shocked to see Y/N sit down at her desk—the truth lingering between them as they exchange eye contact. She’d tried to stay at home, she really had, but nothing could grab her attention and nothing seemed important enough to warrant doing.

So she worked. For the rest of the week, she gets up and goes to work. But whilst she may be mimicking a normal life, hers is so very far from it. She allows herself to cry. Every night when she goes to bed—the distance from Harry hurts more and more with every sleep and the tears last longer each night. But Y/N likes to think she deserves a cry, as a treat from every day being the hardest day at work she’s ever had. She thinks Harry might come back if she cries hard enough but he never does.

Once it reaches Friday, Y/N finally acknowledges the situation to Imogen, who has been very patient all week. She doesn’t get teary eyed but something else catches her interest.

“I don’t understand,” Y/N says, wheeling over to Imogen on her squeaky office chair, “how you remembered.”

Imogen’s head tilts in confusion. “What do you mean?”

She leans in, quietening her voice. “Harry put a spell—a glamour—on the building. To make everyone forget about the whole incident… But you remembered that you prayed and that would’ve happened the day before. Harry even made you forget that he took me home.”

Imogen gasps. “I knew I recognised him, I do remember that now… in the bathroom.” Gently, she places a hand on Y/N’s knee. “We’re talking about Lucifer here, babe. He’s the most powerful being on the planet… I know I’m not very experienced in the matter but surely he overrides everything. At least, that’s what makes the most sense, considering Harry’s spell malarkey didn’t work on me. And you know, maybe my angel blood was finally doing me some good.”

Y/N sighs. “Yeah… I don’t know why I can’t stop analysing everything—nothing is going to change. I just—” she pauses, inhaling, “I miss him,” shuffling uncomfortably, clearing her throat, eyes darting anywhere but her friend’s face. “I think I’ll always miss him—I mean if our souls are bound,” she laughs humourlessly, “I think I’m fucked.”

“Oh, babe,” Imogen pulls Y/N in for a hug, knees bashing awkwardly as they both lean forward on their respective chairs. “I’ll give Harry a right piece of my mind the next time I see him. Using his fuckery to hypnotise me,” she tuts.

Y/N pulls away with a small smile. “It’s called mind compulsion, I think.”

“Well, my mind is feeling rather compulsed to punch him.”

“I don’t think that’s a word,” she laughs and Imogen smiles, not mentioning the glossy look in Y/N’s eyes.

ㅤㅤ

“Do you want me to stay over tonight?”

Y/N’s heart warms slightly, looking up from her desk as she gets ready to go home.

“That’s okay, Gen,” she smiles softly. Imogen doesn’t look convinced, worry plastered across her features. “I’m so tired I think I’ll pass straight out as soon as my head hits the pillow tonight.” She stands, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “Thank you, though. Really.”

ㅤㅤ

Y/N does not, in fact, fall asleep as soon as her head hits the pillow. Her head doesn’t even get close enough for that to happen. As soon as she hears the fateful click of her front door shutting, she’s letting her bag fall to the floor and her hands cover her face. The tears hold themselves back but her chest is rising and falling at a rapid pace—so painfully.

Every breath feels like another step taken away from Harry. He’s gone and she’s never going to see him again. She’s going to meet someone, force herself to fall in love and pretend that she is happy, have a beautiful family that fills the void but only for a little while—and still be longing for Harry until the day she dies.

It’s a hollow feeling, one of panic. The realisation that this could be her life now. That she will never be truly happy again because a part of her will always be missing. Y/N slaps her hands against the door behind her in an attempt to steady her fall as she sinks to the ground. Her head makes contact with the wood heavily as she stares up at the ceiling. Her breathing is uncontrollable now, so desperate to fill her lungs that her lungs refuse; they form an impenetrable wall and won’t let anything in. 

Y/N’s palms are sweaty on her knees, huddled to her chest. And then they’re wet on her eyes as her waterline starts to overflow, leaving hot salty trails down her cheeks and sobs that rip out of her chest. She’s never known crying to hurt like this. Even during the torturous week she’s had, when she buried her face into her pillow and cried herself to sleep each night, it hadn’t stung and torn through her like it is right now. Her head is pounding and foggy and she’s awfully congested, tears coating her face and pooling in her palms that are pressing numbingly into her sockets.

She doesn’t know anything. Other than that she needs Harry so much she thinks she might die from crying otherwise. Maybe her tears will start to fill her lungs and she’ll drown, or her ribs will crack from the force at which her shoulders are shaking and puncture her heart. The cause of death will be listed as the most pathetic of heartbreaks and she will be pitied by the masses.

His name is on a loop inside her head and he is all she can see behind her eyelids. She’s thinking of him so hard that she starts to smell him. And then hear his voice. And then feel his hands on her knees, trailing up to grasp at her wrists and pull them gently away from her face.

“Baby,” she hears Harry coo. Y/N gasps, revealing her sad, puffy face to him. She thinks she’s hallucinating but seeing him only makes her cry harder, eyes scrunching up and downturned lips letting out another sob. She’s pulled into Harry’s lap and he feels so real but Y/N can’t process what’s going on as she cries into his collarbone, soaking his shirt. Harry’s large palm is warm on her back, rubbing up and down in soothing motions as he mumbles things Y/N can’t hear into her hair. “I’m here, you’re okay. You’re okay.”

“Harry?” Y/N’s voice is thick; his name barely distinguishable but he knows. Squeezes her tighter against his body, arms wrapped around her back. She’s sat so close in his lap he thinks they might fuse together—he’d be okay with that.

It’s sudden—the way Y/N’s tears stop and her lungs break down their walls to let the much-needed air in. Her heart starts beating at a more steady rate as she inhales Harry—body relaxing into his—and her brain starts to calm down, fog shifting as it realises what’s going on. That nothing is missing anymore.

ㅤㅤ

Now, with a clearer head, Y/N starts to feel a little shy. She knows how rough she must look, water trails staining her skin, hands shaking, and limbs too heavy to hold up. Harry’s comforting hands hold her close to his chest as she breathes against his neck, but Y/N pushes against him to sit back and cover her face, desperate to wipe away some of her despair.

Harry cups her cheeks, nudging her hands out of the way and wiping the salty tracks from her skin. Her eyes flutter shut, furrowed brows relaxing somewhat. It’s a little humiliating when she feels him thumb underneath her nose, no doubt swiping away snot—she never thought she’d have anyone uncaringly clean her up like that and it causes an endeared warmth to blossom throughout her chest.

“You’re okay,” Harry says again, quiet enough that Y/N might think he fears the power of his own voice. His hands are so soft and warm as they hold her, mollifying her already leaden limbs as she melts even further into him, head leaning into his grasp. He drops a longing kiss to her forehead, pouring his every fibre into trying to soak up Y/N’s pain.

She brings her hands up to cover Harry’s, wishing she could breathe in better through her nose to unashamedly bask in his scent. “You heard me?” She asks.

“Every day.”

Y/N pulls back just enough so Harry’s lips leave her forehead, catching his gaze. His composure is commendable, and maybe if she wasn’t just about ready to dive into his eyes then it would be less obvious to her that he was hurting too.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, thinking of every tear she has shed over the last few nights and how loudly they must’ve echoed in Harry’s head.

“No.” He holds her face tighter, angling it up. He’s stern. “Don’t say that. I was trying to keep my distance. I thought— You have nothing to be sorry about, Bambi.” Harry strokes his thumbs across her cheeks, fingers gently buried in her hair. “I’m sorry. I could’ve come sooner—I let you cry,” he closes his eyes, brows kinked.

“Hey,” Y/N frowns. “If I can’t apologise, neither can you,” she shuffles even closer on Harry’s lap (not that she can get any closer but it feels necessary). She brings her own hands up to his face and delicately brushes his eyebrows—trails a finger down the bridge of his nose before using both her index fingers to pull at the corners of his mouth to twist them up into a smile. Harry relents, revealing his dimple in a smile he lets Y/N have. 

They sit there, with their faces in each other’s hands for longer than either of them know, only shifting into a more comfortable position when Harry hugs Y/N to his chest once more and rests his head atop hers. Both of their minds are running wild but neither of them want to be the one who disrupts the silence—bursts the bubble. Talking can wait a little while longer.

Harry takes her thighs and forces them even tighter around him, arms wrapping around her back securely. Even if Y/N wanted to move, their bodies wouldn’t allow it. He hugs her with so much force, Y/N’s breath hitches and Harry releases his grip slightly with a soft apology. She only nestles into his neck further, trapped hands resting happily on his chest. Their hearts beat together, steady and safe, and the places their skin touches liquify in bliss.

When Harry notices the shift in Y/N’s breathing he starts rubbing her back once more, whispering, “Don’t fall asleep on me now.” He can feel the flutter of her lashes against his neck and leans back just enough so she can’t bury in further. “Come on,” he tries again when she groans, “have you eaten?”

“No,” Y/N grumbles, wishing Harry would just let her nap on him. “Let me sleep.”

But Harry is already starting to get to his feet, hands securely under her thighs to keep her wrapped around him as he stands up with zero effort—Y/N nearly forgets his strength and agility surpasses that of an average person. She says nothing more, content with the lack of moving she has to do. He sets her down at her kitchen table—places her right on top of it. Y/N’s legs aren’t her own; they hang on tight when Harry tries to step back and she knows she should let go, that her moment of vulnerability has passed and she should act appropriately, but the possibility that he might disappear is knocking around invasively in her skull.

Harry treats her delicately—doesn’t tease. “I won’t be long.” He tucks her hair behind her ears. “You care what you have?” Y/N shakes her head, eyes failing to conceal her emotions. They’re wide, and overwhelmed, and tired. Harry smiles softly, holding her gaze for a second, his eyes flicking over her face; really there, really real. They get stuck in the moment again, taking one another in, before Harry forces himself to look away. He unlinks Y/N’s legs from around him and leaves her with an uncharacteristic tap to her nose with his forefinger that has her pulling away in faux annoyance, a small smile revealing her true feelings.

ㅤㅤ

They don’t talk whilst she eats. Harry comes back with a small bowl of leftover stir fry and helps her down from the table wordlessly, pulling out her chair and placing the food in front of her. He sits opposite and watches thoughtfully. Y/N doesn’t necessarily jump with joy at the idea of someone watching her eat usually, but none of the discomfort arises, gratefully filling her stomach and returning the eye contact whenever her mouth isn’t wide open mid-bite.

Before Y/N has even swallowed her last mouthful, she’s eager to push away from the table, sure she can hear the sweet siren song of her bed calling out to her. Harry follows her movements near weightlessly, every motion graceful. There was never anything clunky or awkward about him. Y/N pauses as she places her bowl in the sink, turning around hesitantly. “You’ll stay, won’t you?” Harry nearly rolls his eyes at the silly question—and maybe bites back a derisive remark—instead nodding assertively, calming her as much as possible without using his perfumed magic. (He decided a while ago he wouldn’t unless she asked—and even when she had asked, on the night that he’d stayed in her room to make sure she was okay, there was still a lingering guilt churning around inside him at the knowledge of his manipulation.)

“Of course I will,” he verbally confirms, following Y/N once again when she meekly walks past him through the doorway and heads towards her bedroom. Harry assumes she must be feeling a little embarrassed, always so determined to minimise her behaviour before tonight. The obvious display she’s presented has broken down a barrier; new for him but drastic for her. She may as well have removed her heart from her chest and spread it out for him, or delivered it into his palms with a note that read:

this is yours now.

Harry would be sure to take care of it, but he’s unconvinced Y/N knows that.

ㅤㅤ

She busies herself in the bathroom, mind running as she tries to plan some semblance of what she wishes to say in her head. When she pushes the door open however, and sees Harry sitting on the edge of her bed, her mouth starts running before her brain does.

“I don’t want you to go—” her skin warms and her eyes scrunch when she realises she’s blurted out the words that should’ve been hinted at much more gracefully. But she continues. “I mean— after tonight—” she rushes, “not because of the soul thing…or maybe it is but I don’t care.” Harry listens with a soft and watchful gaze. “It doesn’t bother me… and I want you to stay in my life and I know our souls being connected makes it complicated but I’m not just saying this. And it’s not just because of my unhinged crying, although it did suck…” Y/N lowers her voice, almost scared to admit it, “I think I would’ve cried anyway, tethered or not.”

Harry is processing her words for no longer than three seconds before Y/N starts up again, his miniscule silence as he carefully chooses his reply stirring a panic up inside her. “I know you probably don’t feel the same… or you don’t want to.” Harry sits up, mouth opening to correct her but she keeps talking. “I’m sorry you got stuck with me…”

“Y/N—”

“—But I thought you might be okay with becoming friends?”

“Y/N—”

“—Or if not I could just push someone else down the stairs and—”

“Y/N!” Harry finally cuts through her. His voice is powerful, commanding, but still so delicate it barely disturbs the particles around them. She looks at him properly, pulling herself out of her head, with wide eyes. “You’re working yourself into a tizzy, hm? Come here, silly girl.” He opens his arms and widens his legs so Y/N can step between them. Warm palms rest against her hips.

“I feel the same way. And I want to.”

His words light up inside of Y/N; they trail into her ears and slick down her neck. Seep into her skin and vibrate through her bones.

“Does that make you happy?” He strokes his thumbs against her hip bones, honey-dripping tone placing a coy smile onto Y/N’s face as she bites her lip in an attempt to hide it. 

She nods. “Yes.”

And she nearly stays happy too. Nearly lets her shoulders relax and her protective layer fall away. Until Harry continues speaking.

“But—”

“No,” Y/N’s smile drops. “No, there’s no but. Harry, please.” She tries to step back but Harry slides his hands around her body. 

“When we were at the cottage,” he starts, “I was ready to keep you forever. I would’ve done it in a heartbeat.” His eyes round out as they look up at her. “But how could that have been fair? I’m no good, Y/N, really—”

“—Don’t say that.” She grabs his shoulders.

“Please, Y/N. I’m old, and I do bad things, and whenever I am with you I am terrified you might suddenly realise what I am. You deserve a nice, human boy much better than me, who doesn’t put you in danger and can give you a normal life. I’d never forgive myself if I took that away from you.”

A million things rush through Y/N’s head. Sadness and sympathy for the way Harry talks of himself, and then frustration and denial that he could truly believe that. “Harry,” she starts, frowning face mirroring his own, “You are better.”

His expression stays the same, large eyes hesitant and unconvinced, not quite understanding what she is saying.

“You have been kinder to me than any human girl or boy—well, except for my friends but I don’t mean like that,” she pauses. “To say you are not good enough isn’t fair, especially when I’ll be comparing everyone I ever meet to you. And you will always come out on top.” Harry’s face softens and his hands pull Y/N in closer. “I know what you are, Harry. It doesn’t scare me,” she whispers, cupping his face tenderly. “I like liking you. It feels good.” She lets her eyes close, forehead tipping down to rest against his and he angles his head up. She listens to the way he breathes, slow and deep, and his silence unnerves her once more. “Say something,” she exhales.

“It’s too dangerous, I— Lucifer mentioned a demon named Zennith, that apparently I used to know but I don’t remember. He sent the demon after you and I don’t know what he wants or where he is. I could find him but I was half-hoping that if I ignored it, he would give up. I don’t even know if Lucifer was telling the truth. But nothing threatening has happened to you since Niall took care of the demon and I like things that way.”

Y/N doesn’t care. “I don’t care,” she tells him so, “you protect me.” And he does, better than anyone else could possibly attempt to.

Harry’s holding himself back; they both know it. Both know that he’s letting his worries get the better of him when nothing like this has affected him before. He’s usually so confident in his abilities to keep her safe, so what’s changed? He considers the possibility of a more permanent method of concealing her scent—one that might involve teeth, or words, or something so intimately internal that Harry has to redirect his thoughts before they get too muddy.

“Let me sit on it, yeah Bambi?” He eventually utters. It’s not a no, Y/N thinks. “I would rather never see you again in my long, immortal life than know that your pain was caused by me.” This has her eyes welling up as she clumsily lowers down onto his lap, arms thrown tight around his middle.

“Don’t say that,” Y/N speaks into his neck. “Don’t even think about it.” Her words are wet against his skin.

Harry sighs, his own face buried into the side of her head. “Always making you cry, sweet girl,” but Y/N shakes her head fervently until he smooths her hair down and holds her just as tight. “Been crying since the day we met.”

“No. M’tummy hurts, s’all.” Y/N is unconvincing but Harry smiles against her hair, mumbling a soft okay as they sit in each other’s arms once again.

ㅤ

Y/N is unsure at what point she was moved into her bed instead of on Harry’s lap on top of it, but when she wakes up in the morning and the first thing she sees is his sleeping face, logistics don’t seem important. Nothing seems important, apart from him being in front of her.

His face is serene, not a furrow or worry in sight, and his breathing is peaceful and deep. She wants to touch every inch of him—commit him to memory—but she doesn't want him to wake up. This could be it—the day he decides to never see her again, and the mere thought has Y/N closing her eyes in an attempt to will it away. Her body doesn’t function properly without him anymore. How would she possibly survive on her own?

“Y’thinking too loud,” the grumble jolts Y/N out of her depressing reverie, eyes opening to see Harry sleepily blinking at her. 

“Sorry,” she mumbles back, eyes flitting around the slivers of shirtless skin she can see. Harry reaches for her under the covers, fingers trailing up her arm. Her eyes meet his and he has a soft smile on his face, mussed hair curling around his temples. When his palm smooths up her neck and into her hair, there’s nothing more she wishes to do than sink into his touch. But she feels the need to protect herself and Harry notices the way she holds her breath.

“Don’t,” he whispers. “Don’t pull away from me.” He pushes himself up and drops down closer to her.

“But you get to?” Y/N says, slightly affronted.

Harry sighs, “No, baby—” he rubs hand down his face before running it through his hair. “I’m here right now. I won’t disappear, I promise you.”

Right now. Y/N repeats it in her head. Not forever—right now. Is that enough?

“But if anything becomes dangerous you’ll leave?”

“If anything becomes dangerous I will protect you entirely. And then I will make sure you stay safe. And if that means keeping away from you then that’s what I’ll do.” He traces the shell of her ear with his finger. “Don’t be so sad, little thing.”

“Why aren’t you sad?” Y/N huffs.

“How can I be, when I am with you?”

He has to go and be so irresistibly mawkish. Y/N can’t help the way her heart swells and her pupils expand. To be so unashamedly wanted is all she has ever wished for. She reaches her own hand up, landing on his that has weaved into her hair and bringing it down to hold her face. Her lips pucker against the spongy part of his palm, and then the pad of his thumb, and each of his fingers. Harry watches her with a small smile, eyes velvety.

He can’t stop himself from surging forward to press their mouths together, liquid insides begging him to do something. Y/N sighs into Harry’s mouth, easily following his movements. It feels as though they’ve been doing this forever—waking up next to one another. He keeps a firm grasp on her hand, manoeuvring their fingers so they interlock and pushing forward so Y/N lays on her back. Harry settles between her legs, lips never straying as their mouths open wider and wider with each kiss. With his free hand, Harry dances it down Y/N’s front, the other that’s firmly squeezing hers, still holding him up. Her nipples peak underneath her shirt and Harry elicits a gasp from Y/N as he thumbs over one, not stopping for long enough to tease as he gets further and further down her body.

Y/N opens her mouth for Harry eagerly, accepting his tongue with a grateful whine. Their noses bump and their breathing is laboured but it’s flawless. And when she feels Harry trail along the waistband of her shorts she pushes her hips up into him, only to have him send her back down and smooth his big hand underneath her shirt and press into her tummy. It’s a nice force, a warm and fuzzy feeling. One that has her sinking deeper into the space Harry gets her to when they do these things.

“What am I g’na do with you?” Their lips part and his eyes are seductive, stripping her bare. 

Y/N inhales shakily before whispering, “Whatever you want.” She tries to push into his hand but his strength is vast and he drags his nails up to her sternum before returning to her stomach and reapplying pressure.

Harry hums, slanting his lips against hers again, nibbling and sucking on her bottom lip until he can almost feel her skin tingling with impatience. “You want me to make all the decisions, hm?” He mumbles against her mouth. When she whines in affirmation, he says, “You like having no power, don’t you? Like just lying there and taking what I give you?” Harry’s words stoke the fire in her belly, thighs twitching. Y/N’s skin grows hot as she nods, embarrassed. “You gone all quiet on me, baby?”

“I like it,” she breathes, eyes closed.

“Like what? Look at me,” Harry squeezes her hand. “Like what?”

Y/N blinks up at him, takes in the flush of his cheeks and the glint in his eyes. She wants to kiss him until all the oxygen has been sucked from the room. “I like…when you decide. Want you to do whatever you want to me…please?”

“Love how politely you beg,” Harry kisses her again, sighing into her mouth. His tongue strokes hers and makes her squirm underneath him, tentatively hooking her legs around his hips. Harry moves his hand from her tummy around to the back of her thigh, and then her ass, pushing her into him as far as she can go.

Hard meets soft and their mouths open against one another. Harry pulls away, sponging kisses down Y/N’s neck. He trails further, licking her nipples through her shirt and taking a moment to admire the wet patches. Then he pushes the fabric up just enough to kiss at her stomach, nibbling until he hears giggles mixed in with Y/N’s moans. Harry smiles against her skin, peeking up at her from underneath his lashes. She looks so beautiful, all bated breaths and glowing skin.

“Tickles,” she exhales.

Harry can’t help himself. “Oh? When I do this?” he asks, before biting into her flesh again, dotting kisses for each tooth mark he leaves. And then he blows a wet raspberry underneath her belly button, eliciting the most adorable string of shrieks and giggles he’s sure he’s ever heard. Harry shakes his head back and forth, face snug to her skin, and his hair sweeps against her. Soft as Y/N’s hand falls into it, trying to tug him away.

He unlinks their hands and brings both of his palms to her hips, holding her to him. And as he subtly slips down, his mouth starts leaving kisses again and Y/N’s laughs get caught in her throat. Harry looks up at her with a smirk, mouth hovering above her mound. Her eyes are wide and her chest is heaving. But he’s barely even begun to tease yet. 

Slowly, Harry kisses over Y/N’s shorts, down, down, until his nose is level with her clit. And Y/N’s breath turns into a whine, and then a squeal when Harry nudges it, shaking his head from side to side again. Her hips buck into his face and he lets her, holds her closer to him as he inhales and breathes hot air onto her.

“Should I take these off or should I ruin you through your shorts, hm?” Harry gives a particularly pointed prod with his nose and Y/N gasps. “Think I could soak you through two layers?” Y/N doesn’t know anything, can only feel the immense throbbing between her legs. But Harry does all the thinking for her. “I think I could. But I won’t today,” as he tugs on the waistband of her shorts and pulls them down her legs, presenting her already wet underwear, “wanna taste you proper.”

The promise has Y/N’s stomach contracting and her hands fisting the sheets as Harry drags the flat of his tongue over her, causing her panties to stick to her as he plays and increasing the thrumming in Y/N’s body. Harry groans into her, the vibrations pulling a whimper from Y/N’s open mouth.

“You’re so responsive, Bambi,” Harry smiles against her. “I barely have to do a thing and you’re squirming underneath me.”

“Only you,” she whines, eyes finding his as he soaks his saliva over her clit, drenching her underwear further.

Harry hums, “That’s right. Just f’me, no one else.” She nods desperately. “You’re a good girl.” Y/N shivers, body begging him. “Should I make my good girl come, do you think?”

“Yes, please,” her bottom lip juts out, wet and puffy. “Need you.”

“M’needy girl needs me,” Harry pouts right back, and Y/N nearly begs again but her breath gets caught in her throat as Harry plucks her underwear to the side and licks through her folds, bottom to top. Her hips shudder and Harry forces her thighs around his head, doesn’t let an inch of space get between them. He laps at her like he may die without it, hums and groans into her, buries his nose so tightly against her clit and massages his tongue inside of her. Y/N swear she loses consciousness, head thrown back and eyes rolling—every sense overwhelmed. No one had ever made her feel like this before.

And the coil in her belly is already tightening, and Y/N knows she could let go so easily, she’s already so nearly there. But then a harsh blaring coming from her bedside table has her jumping from her skin. Harry doesn’t flinch, carries on practically devouring her. “What is that?” he speaks into her, arm thrown over her waist holding her down.

Y/N can’t talk, just blindly slaps for her phone to turn her alarm off. “I’m—” she tries, “seeing—Sarah—” her words come out broken and Harry hums against her, speeding up his movements. Y/N cries out, hands landing in his hair.

“Better come then,” Harry mumbles, sucking her clit into his mouth hard and then laving his tongue over her in tight circles. “Be a good girl and come for me, Bambi.” She whimpers as his tongue speeds up and one of his hands trails up her chest, pushing her shirt out of the way to reveal her breasts. He flicks at her nipple, pinches and squeezes and feels her pulsate against his chin.

She’s garbling his name, body wound up tight and he’s whispering into her, “I know, I know, just come for me.” Her orgasm is right there, she’s so close, and all it takes is for Harry to take his other hand and sink a single finger into her drippy hole and she’s clenching down around him, crying out as she comes. Her eyes squeeze shut and tears slide down her temples as Harry licks her through it, humming. He can’t take his eyes off of her, splayed out so pretty for him, contracting around his finger and pulling on his hair.

“Good girl,” he whispers against her, parting from her for a moment to give her a little respite, resting his cheek against the inside of her thigh. Y/N blinks, looking down at him with a spacey expression and a wet face. She opens her mouth to speak but the noise gets lodged in her throat.

“That was—really nice,” a tear rolls down her cheek.

Harry smiles and presses a longing kiss to the crease of her thigh, “Yeah? Those good tears?” Y/N nods fervently. He kisses her again, and again, slowly moving back to her centre where he sponges his lips over her clit.

Y/N jumps and gasps. “Too sensitive!” But Harry strokes her hip bones gently and slicks his tongue through her folds, avoiding her pearl.

“I know, just le’ me clean you up.”

“Harry… I need to get dressed,” Y/N sighs, without attempting to move. Her head just sinks further into the pillow as her rapid heartbeat starts to calm down whilst Harry sweetly tends to her. She runs her hands through his hair and then lets it brush against her tummy, sighing as she watches the way his eyes flutter.

Just as her body hints at the idea of building back up, Harry reluctantly pulls away with glistening lips. He peels her legs from around his shoulders and climbs up to lean over her, stroking her hair from her face. Y/N nearly melts under his gaze but then she forces a frown onto her face.

Harry pinches her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Oi. What’re you grumpy about now?”

“If you’re not here when I get back, I am going to murder you, Harry.”

He laughs, dropping a wet kiss to her cheek. “That’s okay, sweetheart.”

Harry teleports to Niall’s house and quickly ushers him to follow, settling when they’re both in Y/N’s living room.

“Could’ve been preoccupied, you know?” Niall glowers. 

“Well, you weren’t.”

“I could’ve been—”

“—Did you find anything?”

Niall stares at Harry for a moment, opening his mouth and then shutting it again. For once, Harry doesn’t roll his eyes or tell him to just spit it out, instead taking a seat on Y/N’s armchair and gesturing to the sofa for Niall.

“Nothing helpful, I’m afraid, Harry. Just more of what you already know—that the unbinding incantation is lethal to humans. I’m sorry.”

Harry feels rather unaffected and Niall notices but says nothing. He’s not sure he wants to untether their souls now even if they could. He’s in too deep.

“But,” Niall continues, “I did read that as long as you don’t kiss her, your feelings should remain more manageable. Something about giving in to your souls.”

Harry looks at Niall. Niall blinks. “Harry,” he deadpans. “You haven’t.”

“Have you ever tried not wanting to kiss your fucking soulmate, Niall?”

His friend lets out a breath, leaning further back into the sofa. “Well, you’re fucked then, mate.”

Harry doesn’t necessarily agree. He might have a week ago but his priorities have changed in that short span of time. 

“Thanks for looking,” Harry finally says.

Niall looks solemn. “What are you going to do now?”

Harry smiles, “Y/N threatened murder if she came back and I wasn’t here, so…”

“Man, you are down bad.”

“Perhaps,” he shrugs.

ㅤㅤ

Meanwhile, Y/N is being grilled by Sarah for seeming different lately.

“I can’t tell if you’re on cloud nine or on tenterhooks expecting to hear bad news.”

“Maybe I’m both. Happier than I’ve ever been but waiting for it to go up in flames.”

Harry wakes up before Y/N the next morning.

(She had arrived home the day previous with bated breaths, assuring Harry and his smug face that she was serious about the murder if he hadn't been there. But he just looked at her with his teasing green eyes and coaxed her into his lap where he mocked until she squirmed.)

He wakes up with a renewed vigour, feeling his irises practically disappear as he takes in Y/N’s sleeping form. Hair a mess, face soft and unburdened of anxiety, and limbs relaxed right on top of Harry. He feels a sense of self-accomplishment that in her unconsciousness she gravitated towards him, and the longer he looks at her beautiful face, the more sure he is that he’s going to promise her longer than just right now.

In fact, however hard it is to sneak out from underneath her, he decides he’ll surprise her with breakfast too and his heart swells at the picture of her waking up in his head. She’d probably half-heartedly grumble at him for waking her up and then pretend not to be grateful for the food he presents.

Harry is busy for a little while, taking things slower than he usually would to try and stay as silent as possible. He’s just taking soft-boiled eggs off the hob when he hears it—Y/N’s cry. Everything is turned off and Harry is hurrying into her bedroom immediately, seeing her start to thrash about under the covers.

“Hey, hey,” he tries, sitting on the edge of the bed and placing a soft hand on her shoulder. “Wake up, Y/N.” A tear rolls down her nose and Harry is quick to brush it away, gently manoeuvring her so she’s laying on her back and not her side. “It’s okay, baby, wake up,” he strokes her face, tucking her hair behind her ears and smoothing out the furrow in her brows. Nothing works. Not even as he starts to shake her shoulders—Y/N only cries harder and flails more. “Come on, Bambi,” Harry starts to panic; he tries to keep it quelled but the churning in his gut is getting stronger and stronger.

It’s when Harry jostles her particularly powerfully that her eyes shoot open and his heart nearly drops out of his body when he is greeted with complete darkness. His eyes looking back at him—gone are her beautiful irises, replaced by black, soulless, foreboding ovals.

He’s seen this before, knows what’s happening, but never has he dealt with it affecting someone he cares about more than life itself. Any part of trying to help her could actually harm her.

Harry doesn’t have to guess very hard as to who it is that’s controlling her dream, and he berates himself for trying to pretend that someone didn’t exist instead of killing him days ago. How could he let this happen to her? If Harry weren’t here right now, she could be stuck in this state for however long Zennith decided. Hours, days, or even weeks.

Usually Harry would be preparing to perform a ritual to wake up whoever was inflicted, but he doesn’t have anything and his hands are shaking like leaves. He needs to pull himself together. Y/N’s eyes are still open and it’s upsetting Harry to a fault; he’ll never be useful if he falls apart. 

Gently, he brushes her eyelids closed, unnerved at how inhuman she looks. An idea plants its roots in Harry’s head as he swipes away more of Y/N’s tears, delicately holding her arms down so she doesn’t writhe. He’d never attempted it in this context before, but maybe…

ㅤㅤ

Y/N will never sleep again. She’s sure of it. The image before her is undoubtedly one that will stick with her for the rest of her measly life.

She doesn’t even remember waking up—although she’s pretty sure she isn’t fully awake because the room she is in isn't a room. It’s a lack of space, a vast darkness, with her sat in the middle and an unsettling looking man standing two feet away. She can’t move, she can’t speak, she can only blink, and feel hot streams running down her face.

“Hello, Y/N. It seems I finally entered the right person’s dreams.” His voice is slimy. Was this the demon Harry had mentioned? What was his name? “You are very pretty,” the man says, and a shiver runs down Y/N’s spine. “What’s a little human like you doing with a demon like Harry?”

Having more fun than I am with you, she thinks.

“He’s a bad man, Y/N. I’m sure he’s mentioned me, filled your head with lies.”

He doesn’t even remember you.

“He might be nice to you now, but one day he will only succumb to his true nature and kill you. He tried to kill me once.”

You probably deserved it, Y/N thinks, but the demon’s face contorts and then she realises she said it out loud. She goes to speak again but she can’t; he’s controlling her.

“Ah, yes, I see he has already tainted you.” He steps closer. Y/N desperately wishes to move backwards but none of her body responds. “That’s okay. A shame but nothing I can’t change. What is necessary will be done.”

Y/N doesn’t understand what he’s talking about, sure he must be mentally unhinged, but it doesn’t unsettle her any less as he gets closer and closer. The uncontrollable tears feel nearly scalding on her skin and she won’t blink in fear of her own safety.

“When you wake, I want you to come and find me.” His eyes darken like Harry’s, but Y/N can’t help but think that they suit Harry far better and are much less disturbing on him. “I think you’ll be much happier with me, as my little pet.” He reaches his hand out towards her face and Y/N wills every part of her being to flinch away, despite no movement happening. She feels no touch however, and notices his fingers trace the air around her cheek. He can’t, perhaps.

There’s no doubt in Y/N’s mind that whatever words the demon is speaking are supposed to have some hypnotic effect on her—but nothing in her mind changes. Nothing comes over her in a strung-out realisation, her eyes don’t round out in newfound adoration and her heart doesn’t start to speed up.

Well, it does, but not out of endearment. She can only hope her connection with Harry’s soul is what's keeping her unscathed.

The demon keeps speaking and Y/N still can’t remember his name, but her neck suddenly starts to sting and she flinches. She actually, physically moves. He looks at her, puzzled, before letting out a quiet curse.

“You come and find me,” is that last thing she hears, each word more muffled than the last as her eyes droop closed and the pain in her neck is the last thing she feels.

ㅤㅤ

Y/N wakes up with a cry, body surging forward and immediately crashing into a hard chest. Harry. It takes her a second to realise that the pain from her dream is real, and that Harry is the cause of it, as she feels his teeth pull away from her neck and watches as he leans back to see her face. She swears his eyes are glassy.

“I’m sorry, are you okay? I’m sorry, baby, I didn’t know what else to do,” Harry exhales, words jumbled. She’s never seen him lack composure—it’s disconcerting. He cups her face and wipes her tears away, pulling her up and into his chest with his arms wrapped securely around her.

“Harry?” Y/N croaks, “My neck,” she lifts a heavy hand up to touch but Harry takes it delicately.

“I know, sweetheart, m’sorry,” he lays her back down against the pillows and lightly laps at her neck, cleaning up the blood and laving over the bite. His saliva feels healing, as the pain trails away and all she can feel are Harry’s soft lips leaving tender kisses over the mark. Her eyes well up—feeling vastly overwhelmed as her dream plays back in her head. Visuals of the darkness, and the maniacal demon with the wish to own her.

“Am I definitely awake?” Y/N’s lip quivers, vision blurry with tears.

Harry’s heart sinks in his chest, taking in her crestfallen and frightened expression. “You’re awake. I promise, my sweet girl.” He places a longing kiss to her forehead, thumbs determined in the cleaning of her tears. “I promise.” He kisses her nose, and then her cheek, and Y/N is turning to catch his lips—uncaring as the blood from his mouth and the salt from hers mingle together in an seismic kiss.

Y/N grips his hands desperately, tightly—as if they ground her—and Harry’s mouth presses harder to hers in return. Harder yet still tender, treating her with such fragility that only he can deliver. Her whole body feels weak and her eyelids are so heavy.

“I’m so sorry,” Harry whispers against her lips as they part. “This is my fault. I should’ve taken care of Zennith a long time ago.” He plants a little peck.

“Are you—going to—leave me—now?” Y/N blubs, fat drops sliding onto the pillow.

“Never,” Harry swears. “Never, Y/N, I promise.” His hands frame her entire face, as she blinks sadly up at him. Tears cloud her vision. “Was g’na tell you this morning. Was making y’brekkie ‘n’ everything.” She sniffles loudly. “I don’t want to ever be away from you again, my little Bambi.” Y/N’s face screws up as more tears fall, but these ones are less forlorn, as she tugs Harry down on top of her. He tucks his face into her neck, kissing over his bite mark once again.

When her sniffles have lessened, Harry pushes his arms underneath Y/N’s body and rolls them over so she’s resting on top of him. She sinks into him easily, limbs too heavy to hold up, and Harry’s insides roil at how weak she seems.

“Why did you bite me?” Y/N mumbles into his chest. “Like some sort of dog.”

Harry exhales a laugh and rubs a soothing palm along her back. “It’s a temporary scenting bite—they have protective qualities… among other things… I didn’t know if it would work.”

She doesn’t say anything for a moment. And then, “What else will it do to me?”

“You’ll probably be a little needier for a couple days. I might be too. Would be stiff right now if the circumstances were any different.”

“Oh,” she breathes, “do you want…” her hand tries to move downwards but Harry’s gathering it up immediately.

“No, baby. I was far too worried about you to be thinking with my dick. And you need rest.”

“I’mfine,” Y/N says but the words slur together and Harry has been watching her very, definitely closed eyes for the past two minutes.

“I won’t move an inch,” he promises. “Dream of me this time, Bambi.”

ㅤㅤ

Sure enough, it’s as if Harry hadn’t even been breathing when Y/N reawakens after her second, much more pleasant sleep. But she stirs to the comforting feeling of his warm chest rising and falling and nuzzles her face further into his body, tucking underneath his chin like a little puppy.

He carries her (despite Y/N’s adamance that she can walk just fine), and feeds her, and even offers to dress her but Y/N insists she has full control over her body. Harry is serious though, in his worry for her—doesn’t find any part of it humorous and she has to try hard not to tease him for it.

ㅤㅤ

“I have to kill him,” Harry states from next to her. Y/N has just finished explaining the details of her dream and it jostles her a little but she surprises herself by not minding one bit.

“Okay,” she says. “What if you get hurt?”

And Harry doesn’t mean to be patronising but he laughs, “I’ll be just fine, Y/N.” 

She frowns, “I’m serious. I’m allowed to worry about you too. I don’t even know what this guy is so het up about.”

“I know,” Harry sighs, scratching at his jaw. “I wish I could remember him.” He places a hand on her knee. “But it doesn’t matter now, he’s given me more than enough reason to make sure he isn’t a problem anymore.”

Y/N nods silently.

“How’s your neck feeling?” Harry brushes his knuckle over the mark.

“Fine,” she hums. 

“Don’t feel needy or anything?”

“No.”

“No?” Harry smiles. “Then why are you gripping me so tight?”

Y/N looks down to see her fingers wrapped around his hand on her knee and she frowns. She doesn’t pull away though, she just glares at Harry who pinches her cheek in return.

“You’re cruel,” she grumbles.

Harry’s grin widens, “Yeah,” he leans in, “I’m mean,” closer, “really, so very mean,” he breathes against her mouth, eyes daring to flick to hers before they flutter closed and their lips meet. His hand takes her throat tenderly, not applying pressure, just holding as Y/N mollifies into his kiss. She turns his palm up and intertwines their fingers, squeezing subconsciously when Harry sucks on her top lip.

And he couldn’t find her any cuter, he’s sure, when she leans into him—unaware of her own movements. Harry tries moving back, just to tease, but Y/N follows him like a magnet; lips refusing to part. When he wants to actually speak, he squeezes her throat with the least amount of strength, not expecting her to melt even further into him. He shouldn’t have been surprised. But he doesn’t bring it up now.

“I’m going to have Niall come here for a bit,” he mumbles against her mouth. She’s trying her hardest to keep kissing him.

“Why?” Y/N whines, too enraptured to think about anything other than Harry and his lips.

“To keep you company.” To keep you safe.

She blinks up at him then, forcing her face to distance itself farther than two inches. “No,” she pouts, doing a wonderful job of proving she isn’t feeling needy. “Do you have to go now?”

“Yes, Y/N.” Harry squeezes her hand.

And he can tell that she wants to protest further, so he leans in once again and sponges his lips all over her face—doesn’t stop until she’s giggling and struggling, trying to move away from his unrelenting tickles. She falls back and Harry moves with her, hovering over her body on the sofa as he places sloppy kisses on her skin and trails his hands down her body to find the most reactive spots.

“Harry!” she squeals, wriggling underneath him. “S-Stop!” Her hands flap about, trying to cease his torture. Harry can’t help but smile down at her, eyes shining with fulfilment. “I’ll pee!” She panics and Harry slows down but doesn’t stop.

“How do you know I’m not into that?” He teases and Y/N gasps, determined to escape his grasp.

“Harry! Gross!” And he finally stops his ministrations, leaning back to give her some space as her chest heaves. His hands rest on her waist as he sits back, taking in her mussed hair and glowing face.

“I have to go now or I’ll never do it,” he whispers. Y/N feels her heart swell at the way he’s looking at her. She understands. But she still manages to keep him over her for another ten minutes.

Zennith is pitifully easy to find.

Harry almost feels humiliated at how much the demon has affected Y/N’s life when Harry could have tracked and located him in no longer than five minutes.

Using everything he knows about Zennith, Harry closes his eyes and searches—bounces from place to place with no resistance. Is unsurprised at the lack of concealment of scent or location Zennith has in situ. He retraces moments, smells, and faces that lead Harry in the right direction until he can see a clear outline of where he needs to go.

He also sees the clear outline of an additional presence that Harry hadn’t considered he might have to deal with.

Lucifer’s new abode is similar in size and shape, the only major difference Harry notices being the colour scheme. In his previous dwelling, the Devil had an ironically mild decor, however the deep red and black walls in this interior is the first thing Harry sees, and it unnerves him some.

The fact he’s managed to find Lucifer’s residence without asking and has ambled in with entitlement does cross his mind, but Harry thinks he might get away with it when the demon in question spots him from his gaudy throne and flashes a disturbing smile with open arms.

“Harry Styles. What a wonderful surprise.”

“Hello,” he says, hands making their way behind his back in a subconscious stance.

“I don’t believe you’re supposed to be here but you are a sight for sore eyes.” Lucifer smiles, unabashed.

Harry hesitates, “Sorry… I’m looking for someone. I was led here.”

Lucifer hums, “You’re a good tracker,” and then clicks his fingers a few times, eyes never leaving Harry.

A man steps into the room. A man that Harry recognises. A man that Harry’s fists recognise. Surely not. That was nearly eighty years ago… 

They lock eyes and the demon’s suddenly fill with black. Harry matches him in defence, hands clenching by his side.

“You’re still a bully then,” Harry grits. Out of the corner of his eye, Lucifer sits back to enjoy the scene before him.

Zennith steps further into the room. “Funny… I don’t recall you being the one beaten to within an inch of his life.”

Harry laughs, “You’ve been hanging onto this for eighty years, have you? I didn’t even fucking know your name back then.”

He sees the frown on the demon’s face, before it’s quickly concealed. “No.” He’s sharp. “I moved on. Was happy to forget about the cunt who fucked up my face for his own enjoyment.” Harry clenches his teeth. “And then Boss was telling me about his latest fun… and your name was mentioned. Took me back, didn’t it?” His eyes glower. 

Harry is still processing that the demon before him that’s been causing him trouble is the kid he knocked out when he was nineteen (because he was shouting abuse at Harry, he feels is necessary to add). How pathetic he is to hold a grudge for nearly eighty years (may as well be one hundred if you round it up) and how entitled he seems. 

“I think you’re forgetting some details,” Harry grunts.

“Silence,” Zennith snaps, composure cracking, dark eyes close to producing fog. “Thought I would see how you were doing. See if you were still a depressed little loser. It’s been disappointing to see your disgustingly soft mingling with the humans. Even more disappointing that my friend was unable to have any fun before you vanquished him… That girl really is very pretty.”

Harry’s body tightens up at the sound of Zennith’s sleazy voice mentioning Y/N. He tries to act unbothered but anyone could see his anger double at the perverted nature of his comment.

“It’s a shame she likes you,” he sighs. “You must have your claws in real fuckin’ deep for that dream to have not worked. I’m sure you were there, watching it all happen.”

For a moment, Harry feels undeservedly grateful to Lucifer for not saying anything about the real reason Zennith’s magic didn’t work. But then he decides it wouldn’t matter either way.

Harry stalks towards the demon that might as well still be a little brat of a teenager—he has the mental capacity, that’s for sure. “I don’t know what you think is going to happen now, but I’m sure you won’t enjoy it.”

Zennith backs up with a laugh, eyes momentarily clearing with surprise, “What?” He tries to pretend it’s a windup—a silly, harmless prank. “It’s not that serious, man. Hardly worth going to all the trouble of a fight.”

“Perhaps you’re right. Maybe if you’ll apologise for those things you said to me all that time ago, I’ll feel less murderous,” Harry goads.

“You fucking prissy, you want me to say sorry? You were a sad excuse for a demon then and you’re an even sadder one now.”

Harry hums, well and truly unaffected by the words of a demon who had to cower behind someone else as they did his dirty work, and traumatise a human girl through her dream, “No apology then?”

“Boss, are you gonna let him get away with this?” Zennith throws his hands up in the air, exasperatedly looking at Lucifer.

The Devil simply smiles—making no move to help at all—encouraging the chaos and showing no signs of concern for his employee. Zennith deflates then, with realisation that this could not go his way. The three of them all know that Harry overpowers, every day of the week. He did when he was nineteen, and he will at ninety-eight.

“What the fuck.” Zennith sighs, watching as Harry steps closer and closer. He’s lost his nerve.

ㅤㅤ

Harry thinks that maybe a torturous death is deserved, but all he really wants is to get it over and done with and return to Y/N—who is no doubt having her ear talked off by Niall.

So he makes it quick. Pins Zennith still with his monochromatic eyes—wonders what he’d been doing all this time to be so weak as his arms fall heavily by his sides—and feels as his skull splinters and shatters into pieces and pierces his brain. Watches as his body crumbles and turns to ash before it hits the ground; the pained sounds of the demon echoing throughout Lucifer’s lair before the deafening silence takes over.

Harry’s frowning, eyes closed to purge the image from his head and to try and remove himself from this mindset before he gets really dangerous.

“How debonair!” Lucifer claps. “I usually make so much mess but that… that was beautifully done.”

Harry doesn’t have the control to appease the Devil and his unreturned flirting right now. He hums.

“Shame though, I suppose. He was a good servant… someone will have to take his place.” Harry’s stomach drops and his eyes snap open. Shit. Lucifer is already smiling at him. No, no, no. “Come here.”

His footsteps are light as he makes his way over to Lucifer’s throne. Harry’s not sure he can feel his body at all. He stops in front of him, hands making their way behind his back once more.

“No. Right… here,” Lucifer points to his side. This is where I’ll be standing for the rest of my life, Harry thinks. One hundred, two hundred, three hundred years—

Lucifer presents his cheek, expectantly. Harry blanches. “Be a good demon and prove your loyalty,” he teases. Harry’s heart is beating rapidly, scared that at any moment he’ll be trapped, or killed, or that Y/N will become unsafe and Harry won’t be able to stop it. Hesitantly, he leans down, lips jutting out reluctantly as he forces himself to press a small and obviously uncomfortable kiss to the cheek of the ruler of Hell.

The demon looks accomplished when Harry steps back and clears his throat without saying a word, clearly basking in the glory of belittling and humiliating.

“Okay, off you go now.” Harry nearly chokes on his own saliva, the breath from his lungs forced out.

“I can leave?”

“Yes, yes, go on. I do hope I’ll see you again soon, Harry.”

Y/N likes Niall very much.

Understandably, at first she was unsure; their first meeting not ideal to say the least.. A stranger appears in your home whilst you’re not there and it unnerves you some, to say the least. But he’s kind—really kind. And he gets her hesitation; doesn’t try to force an overbearing friendship which ultimately has Y/N opening much quicker than she usually would.

Niall basks in the joy of getting to tell tales about Harry—things he’s never really been able to tell anyone before. And Y/N can see how much he loves having the upperhand between the two for once—revels in narrating sneaky embarrassing stories whilst Harry isn’t there to tell him off. Y/N finds herself giggling and gasping, leaning towards Niall and holding onto his every word. 

It feels good to know more about Harry. And his closest friend.

Niall doesn’t pry either, which is an instant relief to Y/N. He doesn’t prod, or poke, or demand answers—he just fills the silence with lighthearted conversation which is all Y/N could ask for right now.

There is a moment where quiet overtakes them and Y/N’s mind drifts, just a little.

“Hey,” Niall says gently, “don’t you worry about a thing,” he smiles softly. “Harry’s the toughest sod I know.”

Y/N smiles back, not quite reaching her eyes but she appreciates his words.

“You know, one time…” Niall starts off again, detailing a story involving Harry, three vampires, and a lot of bite wounds. (In hindsight, maybe that isn’t the best story to tell but Niall is only trying to demonstrate Harry’s toughness!)

“You gossiping about me?” A familiar drawl sounds from behind them. Y/N gasps and twists around on the sofa to see a very normal looking Harry standing in the doorway of her bedroom. She hesitates, aware of Niall’s presence, until Harry opens his arms out.

“Come ‘ere, Bambi,” he smiles with tired eyes.

Y/N scrambles over to him, content in his arms as they wrap around her and she buries her face into his chest, inhaling not-so-subtly. She misses the look Harry and Niall give one another, a clear understanding between the two. 

“You look… fine?” Y/N says when she pulls back.

Harry laughs easily, “Fine? You wanted me to come home bloody and bruised, did you?” His hands span across her waist.

“No!” She exclaims, “I was worried, is all. That you would be hurt.”

He smiles, brushing his thumbs against her. “Are you alright?”

Niall chirps up at the question, “Excuse me, we had a lovely time, didn’t we, Y/N?” She nods. “Are you alright?” he mocks, “she’s bloody great.”

“Okay, Niall, I’m sorry for asking, I’ll never doubt you again.” Harry sighs but it’s playful.

“Are you okay, Harry?” Y/N asks, big eyes looking up at him. His heart softens and he’d kiss her if his friend wasn’t watching.

“I’m just fine, like you said.”

They must hold eye contact for longer than they realise, as Niall clears his throat.

“Are you two alright if I…”

“Yeah, o’course,” Harry says, briefly tearing his eyes away from Y/N. “Thank you,” he says sincerely. Niall nods, smiling back, and then he’s gone.

“So… Niall was telling me some interesting things about you.”

ㅤㅤ

Y/N watches as Harry gets on his knees, rolling the sleeves of his shirt up his forearms with no intention of being erotic as he starts to swill out the bathtub. 

But Y/N is a little overwhelmed. He’s here, and they’re together…she thinks. She’s not sure but she doesn’t want to ask—wonders if it’s a silly thing to ponder. For its blatancy or how preposterous it may be.

So she focuses on the one thing she does know—Harry’s ridiculous allure. She watches his back contract under his shirt, stretching the material when he leans over to turn the tap off and his biceps strain when he swishes the water around to clean the tub.

If Harry hears the steady increase of her heart rate then he doesn’t say anything. Only puts the plug in, turns on the hot tap, and generously pours her nicest bubble bath in. And when he stands up from the floor and turns to face her, his mouth is upturned at her swoony expression.

“Pupils a bit big, sweetheart,” he teases, fingers trailing up her arm.

Y/N scoffs, “No, they’re not,” but she has no other point to her argument and no willpower to try to find one. So instead she closes her eyes.

“Hey, don’t hide them from me.” Harry’s fingers digs into her waist and she squeals, eyes snapping back open. “Mine are bigger than yours anyway,” he smiles before he lets the whites and irises of his eyes disappear for just a second.

Y/N still finds herself to be fascinated by his ability to do that, among many other things. But she’s not scared—never scared. “Show off,” she whispers.

“Only because I’m trying to impress you,” Harry leans closer, a wry grin on his face. “Is it working?”

Y/N pushes against his chest, “You’re corny,” but she’s smiling too, and her palms don’t budge him one bit as he covers them with his own and pulls her in further. She’s elated to be here with him but she feels herself not quite knowing how to act.

Harry notices (of course he notices). “You’re on edge, huh?” He looks guilty as he strokes her arms. “Gonna let me take care of you now?” He nods towards the tub. Y/N’s eyes flutter closed as she agrees with a hum. “You’ve got nothing to worry about anymore, I promise, Bambi.”

“Will—” she hesitates, talking once Harry turns his back to make sure the water temperature is okay. He looks over his shoulder. “Will you get in with me?” She supposes there’s no reason to be bashful but a bath is intimate—would Harry want that?

He just smiles and bites back a mocking comment. “I was planning on it,” and Y/N really doesn’t know what’s come over her to feel so shy all of a sudden, because she’d wanted him to get in with her but now she feels silly for even asking! You’ve already seen each other naked! She thinks, desperate to pull herself together.

“You’re overthinking, hm? Working yourself up,” Harry gently prompts, suddenly looming over her, focusing all of her senses.

“Sorry,” Y/N frowns, looking at the floor. Harry doesn’t chastise her, just cups her face softly and angles her head up before pressing his lips to hers. It’s not tactical; not intended to go anywhere, which he makes obvious by keeping his mouth closed. He kisses slowly, leaves her with a soft noise as they part, and then does it again. And again. Until Y/N is sighing—much more relaxed.

Harry pushes his hand under her shirt to rest on her tummy that he’s found himself growing somewhat obsessed with. He leans away from her to pull the fabric up her body and Y/N lifts her arms to make it easier. As soon as it lands in the corner of the room, Harry is back to doting, warm hands sliding up and down Y/N’s arms, along her shoulders to cup her face, down her back, along her waist.

Y/N would say she feels sufficiently warmed up already but Harry continues, kissing her innocently again as his hands move to push down her trousers, fiddling with the button. Y/N feels around for his own shirt, timidly pulling it up to reveal his broad back. Harry peels it over his head and in turn she steps out of her trousers.

“You’re so soft,” Harry whispers against her mouth, lips pouting to press another mindless kiss. His hands are eager to touch every inch of her skin. And soon enough they’re both clad in only underwear, Y/N huddling closer to Harry’s chest when he unclips her bra. “Ready to get in?” He asks, rubbing soothing circles into her back.

ㅤㅤ

Y/N can feel every part of Harry against her back as she relaxes into his hold and it’s perhaps the most intimate moment of her life. She’s had sex less close than this. The thick of his thighs encasing her own, the span of his hands wandering her body—lathering her in soap—the feel of his hard chest and the softer parts of his tummy and hips, and the sure hardening of him against her.

Her head was surely muddled before they’d undressed, but now Y/N is confident she is a touch away from just floating off like a feather in the wind. Harry coats her skin in bubbles, encouraging in the way he coaxes her head onto his shoulder. When he dunks the sponge in the water and brings it back up to wash the foam away, Y/N’s breath hitches as the droplets hit her nipples and she feels Harry’s cheek squish up into a small smile.

“Breathe,” he speaks, turning his face into her temple. Y/N exhales shakily, nuzzling into him and Harry lays a delicate press of his lips between her brows before continuing his ministrations. “Are you feeling relaxed?” He asks, already aware of the answer. When Y/N nods hastily, Harry hums, “Not relaxed enough…” the words brushing against her skin, “I think I can do better.”

Gently, he lets the sponge float on the surface, replacing it with his hands as he runs his nails down her arms. Y/N’s chest is rising and falling at an obvious speed and her eyes are struggling to stay open; the anticipation affecting her considerably. “Would you feel better if I touched you…” his hands hover over her breasts, “...here?” He squeezes them far too softly but Y/N still lets out a noise—one that intensifies when Harry tugs and rolls her nipples between his fingers. “Is that nice, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” Y/N exhales, unable to concentrate on anything other than the thrumming of her body.

“Are you g’na watch how good I make you feel?” He prompts, nudging her with his nose. Y/N feels like her eyes are glued shut but she makes the effort to peel them open, tilting her chin down to see Harry’s big hands cupping her. She feels a wave roll inside of her. “There’s a good girl,” he praises, and the wave gets bigger. She never tries harder than when he says those words. “You tell me, baby, what do you want me to do?”

Y/N’s never been asked that before. “Whatever you want,” she says to him; not for the first time.

“No,” Harry asserts, “what do you do when you’re alone, hm? How many fingers do you squeeze inside yourself?”

And Y/N would be scorching with embarrassment usually but the arousal she feels overpowers it. Though it’s still hard to speak, “I don’t— m’fingers aren’t long enough—o-or I’m just not good. Doesn’t do anything.”

She may as well have shot Niall right in front of Harry, the way he gasps. It’s mocking, of course, but he sounds genuinely dissatisfied with her answer. “That’s so sad, Bambi. Pretty pussy like yours should be getting stuffed full and satisfied.” His hands are still playing with her tits, running back and forth over the pebbled peaks, and squeezing the flesh which aids the pant she lets out from his erotic words. “You want me to teach you?” Y/N shakes her head no, too desperate for Harry’s touch. “No? You want my fingers?” She’s quick to agree as he trails a hand down her body, over her ribs, and her tummy, and her mound—daring to dip lower.

“Please?”

“Mm, mine are much longer and thicker than yours, aren’t they?” His other hand pinches her nipple and Y/N arches her back as her hips struggle to coax Harry lower. “Nothing in comparison to my cock though, Bambi. How are you g’na take me if you don’t even fuck yourself with your fingers, hm?”

“I will, I will!” She rushes out. “I can take you. Please touch me, Harry.” Y/N turns her face into his jaw and sponges open-mouthed kisses wherever she can reach.

“We’ll make it fit, won’t we?” Harry presses down on her clit and Y/N moans into his skin, nodding unabashedly. He travels lower to gather the wetness between her thighs. And Harry knows they’re submerged in water but the thick substance that coats his fingers is unmistakable—he wishes he could lap it up.

Harry’s cock is stiff against Y/N’s back and each time she arches and rests back against it, he sighs into her ear; pretty and provoked. She is thrumming—vibrating with want—never had anyone edge her so close to orgasming by hardly touching her. Her hands lay useless on Harry’s knees, subconsciously gripping him when he starts circling her clit with intent.

“Don’t close your eyes,” he orders, overly aware of her every move. It’s hard, not to just lay back and feel but Y/N keeps her eyes as open as possible, watching the flex of Harry’s wrist and the movement of his fingers over her. Her abdomen starts to flutter as he builds her up but Harry takes his hand away before she can start to give into it.

Y/N wants to whine and whinge but then his hand returns lower, fingers circling her entrance before he dips a single one inside. And his really are much longer and thicker than hers because it already feels better than when she tries and he’s only got one finger in.

Slowly, does Harry enter her, allowing for the adjust before deliciously curling and hitting the spongy place inside that has Y/N gasping and tightening her grip on Harry’s knees. She instinctively clenches around him; Harry has to bite back a tease about how desperate her body is and draws his finger back and forth inside of her warmth. Her eyes close for less than a second but in that time he pulls out of her and she snaps them back open, a plea on the tip of her tongue but it’s not necessary, as Harry sinks in a second finger beside the first and stretches her out some. It’s not an uncomfortable feeling, but one of immense fullness and warm buzzing throughout her tummy as he perfectly stimulates her with every curl and drive.

“Y’squeezing me so tight,” Harry says, voice gravelly—turned on—as the hand holding Y/N’s breast moves down to her stomach to readjust and pull her tighter against him. She gazes at the vastness of his hand on her body and then to the one moving inside of her and another wave passes and pulsates between her legs and around Harry’s fingers as he speeds up, thumb stretching to pass over her clit in focused circles. “You’re g’na feel so good around my cock, Bambi,” he twitches against her back. “I can’t wait to fuck you.” Y/N mewls, body pushing into Harry’s hands. “You’ll let me, won’t you?” His breath is warm against her neck.

“Yes, anything,” she sighs, hand finding his and desperately gripping. He interlocks their fingers against her tummy as he starts to press contrastingly precious kisses to her jaw and neck. Y/N’s so close her body is tensing up in anticipation. “Please, please, please.”

“I’ve got you, come on, baby. Come f’me,” he litters kisses between breaths and Y/N is so close, so close. Throws her head back and lets her eyes shut—and Harry allows it, occupied by the stretch of her neck as he licks and sucks and rubs and fucks her until his fingers are being squeezed impossibly tight and she’s coming around him. She lets out the prettiest of noises, writhing in his grip as he guides her through her orgasm and his dick starts to become demanding the more she moves and moans, her body against him feeling like the softest of velvets or silks. 

But he ignores it; ignores everything but Y/N.

She blindly searches for his kiss, body melting in bliss as she comes down from the intense heights of pleasure. Mewling and sighing into him with each press of their open mouths. His fingers stay inside of her, reveling in the subtle but sure pulses she gives, unable to resist the urge of curling them a little to make her jump in his arms.

“You’ll become greedy for that,” he mutters against her lips before nibbling her bottom one and pulling back to look into her satisfied eyes—big and moony, just for him.

She hums, unashamed in her post-orgasmic haze. “Is it your turn now?”

ㅤㅤ

Harry wanted to devour her whole as soon as those words left her mouth—wanted to push her back and have his way with her. But the bath water was cooling, and their skin was getting all pruned, and realistically Harry knew that fucking her for the first time would not be happening in the tub. She deserved better than to be pounced upon in a claustrophobic box.

And Harry was already good at ignoring his needs so what difference would five minutes make?

He kisses her with a smile on his face, slowly pushing upwards to get out of the tub. Her gaze follows him hungrily, lips threatening to pout if he doesn’t start paying attention to her again immediately. But he gathers a towel and helps her out, wrapping her up—delicately and thoroughly drying her body. It’s hard for Harry not to swaddle her completely and smother her face in kisses but he resists.

Teasingly, he wanders her backwards towards her bedroom, towel still pressed to her body; watching how hard Y/N is trying not to make a fuss. He thinks she’s doing a pretty good job until he realises her true intentions, seemingly forgetting the speed of Harry’s reflexes. When the edge of Y/N’s bed touches her calf, she attempts to spin around—the motivation of pushing him down irresistible in her head. She barely turns a fraction, however, before Harry’s hand is clamping around her bicep and squashing their fronts together.

“No,” Y/N whines, “I was trying to be sexy.”

“You’re very sexy,” Harry smiles, nose dropping to rub against hers.

“But—” 

Harry knows what she wants. He also knows how prettily she begs for him, and how easily too. Thinks he wants to push that button a little.

“What does my needy baby want?”

Though it seems he’s underestimated her on this occasion, as she tries very hard to display bratty behaviour and stand her ground. Y/N crosses her arms across her chest, ripping the towel from Harry’s grasp to cover up by herself.

“You don’t wanna tell me?” He tries, wondering how quickly he’ll be able to dismantle her walls. When Y/N shakes her head, he ups his game. “S’not very nice, is it? Made you come on my fingers but you won’t be good f’me?” Her heart drops a little, guilt seeping in. But she won’t beg. She won’t.

“I—”

“I was gonna be so nice to you, little thing. Make you come around my cock until you couldn’t think straight… but if you can’t even tell me what you want then I guess you won’t get anything, huh.”

She’s gripping the towel so tightly, knuckles bulging. “I am… good,” she tries, eyes falling down to his nakedness. It looks near painful. All she wants is to taste him.

Harry hums, “You usually are. Where’s she gone? My good girl.” He covers her hands, removing them from the towel so he can tug her closer. “Just tell me what you want, baby. Always so pretty when you beg.” Harry dips down, pushing the towel to the floor as his lips meet her neck and his hands slide across her ribs, thumbs brushing over her nipples.

She’s done for; never stood a chance. Not really. She squeaks as he grazes his teeth along her skin. “I want you… in my mouth… please.” The words come out breathy, shallow. But they’re hardly desperate.

“You can do better than that,” Harry says, pulling back to look into her eyes. “Prove that you want it.”

And her shyness has returned some—so it’s harder for her—but she shuffles closer, palms gliding up his biceps. “I wanna… make you feel good. The way you do for me,” she whispers. And it’s so soft, Harry can’t help but be taken aback. It wasn’t begging in the way he was used to but his heart swells. “You deserve it all the time. Please let me.”

“All the time?” Harry smiles. “You want my cock in your mouth all the time?”

“Yes,” Y/N breathes, looser now. “Please?”

And who was he to say no? When she thought he deserved it so much.

Harry moves to sit on the edge of the bed, reaching behind him to grab one of her pillows to stuff under her knees as she kneels down. He strokes her hair, tucking it behind her ears and gathering it in his hands before it can fall around her face. Y/N rests her cheek on his knee, eyes glued to his shiny, red tip as it stands against his stomach.

“You trying to tease me, Bambi?” He tugs her hair a little.

“No…” she bites her lip to hide the smile, coyly looking up at him.

He doesn’t have to reply because Y/N’s leaning forward and licking a broad stripe along the entirety of him, eliciting a sigh from Harry as he watches her intently. She brings a hand up, angling him towards her mouth so she can kiss at his head, tongue darting out to taste the salty precome that’s spilling out of his slit. The grip in her hair tightens when she starts to suckle at him—she goes crazy for it, humming around his cock as she starts to move her hand up and down around him.

His noises have her thighs squeezing together; low and rumbling. Y/N knows they get higher in pitch the closer he is to coming and she is determined to get him there.

“Take me deeper,” Harry demands, hand wrapping around his base to encourage her. “Know you can.”

“Mhm,” Y/N hums around him, letting her jaw drop for Harry to feed his cock into her mouth. She can’t take all of him, but she tries all the same. Flutters her eyes shut and focuses on breathing through her nose as she drags her tongue along the underside of him and works whatever she can’t fit with her hand. When she starts to bob her head in coordinated movements and sucks her cheeks in, Harry’s abs tense and his head falls back on his shoulders.

“Hot little mouth,” he manages to say through a moan. “Made for me… made for my cock, isn’t that right, sweetheart?” When she hums again and the vibrations shoot through him, he bucks slightly, gagging her on him. Y/N retracts sharply but her insides still flip-flop about. “Fuck,” Harry groans, pulling her off him by her hair. Her hand doesn’t stop as she catches her breath. “Sorry, baby, feels so good.”

Her rounded out eyes look at him like he’d carved the Earth for her personally. She really would let him do anything.

“You wanna make me come?” He strokes her cheek as she nods. “Go on then. Make me come and then I’ll put my cock in you.” Harry relishes in the way Y/N’s eyebrows cinch together at the excitement and desperation, and her thighs squeeze impossibly tight as she takes him back into her mouth. She has a newfound determination, taking him as far down her throat as she can go before withdrawing to take a deep breath and then continuing. Her hand twists and squeezes, moving up to thumb at his drippy head when she leans back to breathe—and Harry’s chest is heaving more and more, eyes slipping in and out of their demonic state as she works him.

It’s when she leans back down as start tonguing at his frenulum that Harry moans and twitches, leaking out and into her mouth. “Yeah—yes, fuck. Keep going.” A whine gets caught in his throat as his head falls forward, chin touching his chest and his jaw loose. They make eye contact as she stretches her lips back around his tip, sucking and licking—so desperate to taste his come. And he’s close, moans after every breath and struggles keeping his hips down.

“G’na come,” Harry whines. “G’na come down your throat.” Y/N mewls around him, sinking further down and speeding up her hand until she starts to feel the warm spurts filling her mouth. Harry’s noises make her spine tingle as he praises her, “Good girl— swallow it all—so good. Fuck,” hands threading gently through her hair as he comes down.

ㅤㅤ

He barely softens, grateful for his demon stamina because he thinks he might drop dead if he doesn’t get inside Y/N in an instant. “Come ‘ere,” he says with a rumble, pulling her up by her underarms until she’s straddling Harry’s hips. His cock rubs against the both of them, spreading saliva and precome across their stomachs. Y/N surges forward, catching his mouth in desperation as she grinds down, angling herself to rub her wetness against his dick.

“In,” she whines against his lips, clit perfectly stimulated as she humps him. “Want it in now, please.”

Harry strokes his tongue against hers, licking into her like she’s made of honey whilst he takes a hold of himself, smearing her arousal as he paints his head through her folds. Y/N gasps, hips stuttering when she feels his thick mushroom tip prod against her entrance.

“Relax f’me, baby. Breathe nice and slow.” She listens, inhaling as deep as she can as she slowly lowers down. The stretch of him is nearly overwhelming but it’s delicious and her hands have to shoot out for grounding, one landing on Harry’s shoulder and the other cupping his cheek. He tilts his face into it, pressing a soft kiss to the spongy part of her palm. “That’s good,” he whispers as he gets deeper and deeper inside of her, “you’re so beautiful.” Y/N’s eyes squeeze shut with emotion, forehead dropping against Harry’s.

He’s fully inside her now and Y/N is sitting on him, adjusting to the feel and trying not to squirm. Harry starts teasing again once he feels her begin to grind her clit against his pelvis. “You gonna ride me?” Y/N nods, lifting up slightly before dropping back down. “You think your wobbly little legs will be able to cope with that, Bambi?” Harry grins, pushing forward to kiss her open mouth.

“I can do it,” Y/N whimpers, lifting up further. “I can.” She drops back down harder, moaning at the feeling of Harry hitting that spot inside of her. He maintains much more composure than she does, looking at her through his lashes as she starts to bounce up and down, and sliding his palms across her back.

“Am I filling you up good?” Y/N whines, nodding. “Told you we’d make it fit, didn’t I? Taking me so well, baby.” And he places a hand on her lower stomach, pressing in slightly with a smirk on his face. “Can you feel me here?”

“Uh-huh, so big,” Y/N moans, looking down to see his large hand span across her.

“G’na make you feel empty without me,” Harry promises, leaning down to take one of Y/N’s breasts into his mouth, sucking a mark into her skin. Her thighs are already starting to burn—each movement harder than the last as their bodies slap against one another.

“Harry,” Y/N mewls, hands threading through his hair. He hums into her chest, moving to her other breast and giving it the same treatment. His hands hold tightly onto her waist, assisting her movements up and down on his cock more and more until he finally leans back.

“You need my help now, don’t you? Told you you couldn’t do it, little thing.” Y/N frowns, grip tightening in Harry’s hair. “Just need me to take care of you.”

“Please,” she begs—for what exactly she’s not sure but Harry knows what she needs.

Confidently, Harry grips the underside of Y/N’s thighs, shuffling back on the bed so he can pull his knees up. She doesn’t get long enough to prepare before Harry starts fucking up into her with no warning. Y/N struggles, but she manages to throw her arms around his neck, hiding her face into the side of his as he pounds into her—the harsh clapping sounds of their bodies hitting each other echoing throughout the room.

She’s so wet, it’s surprising that there isn’t a puddle on Harry’s abdomen as he holds her up and drives his cock into her again, and again. Y/N is a mess of noise, mouth stuck open and whimpering into Harry’s skin as he fucks her until she can’t think of anything else.

“My little human just takes whatever I give her, huh?” His deep, punctuated voice mixed with mocking words sends her already muddled brain into even more of a tizzy.

“Only you—feels so good,” Y/N manages to cry. “I’m g’na—”

“—Look at me,” Harry weaves a hand through her hair and pulls her out of his neck. “Look at me when I make you come. All over my cock, yeah?”

“Yes—yes, all over,” Y/N keeps her half-lidded eyes on him; a monumental struggle when Harry moves his hand from her hair to her clit, rubbing messily over her. His pounding subsides none, getting harder if anything—going balls deep with every thrust—and all she wants is to collapse into him but she doesn’t look away, despite how kinked her brows become and how much her body screams at her to throw her head back.

It hits her staggeringly, eyes fighting to roll into the back of her head as she cries out and squeezes Harry’s cock, orgasm stifling her. He slows down his thrusts, hands rubbing soothingly into her back as she mindlessly whimpers his name.

“I know, sweetheart, I’ve got you,” he tenderly adjusts them, flipping her onto her back so she can melt into the mattress. “Have you got one more? Can you give me one more, baby?” He asks, her cunt still pulsating around him.

“Slow,” Y/N whispers, eyes blurry, “please.”

Harry leans down, pressing sweet kisses to her forehead, eyebrows, nose, cheeks, hips pushing into her breathtakingly slowly. A lazy smile overtakes her features as Harry dotes on her, pouting up at him with a spacey expression. He complies easily, moulding his lips to hers. It’s gentle, the sound their mouths make as they part—Harry traces his thumb across her bottom lip, pulling it down and watching it snap back up before licking her open and feeding her his tongue.

It’s hard for Y/N to muster up the strength enough to kiss him back, and her reactions are delayed, but Harry doesn’t mind; happy to be so close. 

And in a moment of vulnerability he quietly asks, “You really want me?”

Y/N knows he’s not talking about sex, bringing a leaden hand up to his face and stroking his cheek. “More than anything, Harry.”

His heart inflates ten times the size of his chest, he’s sure—he’s never known anything to feel so good, but Y/N was his person, and she wanted him.

Harry’s orgasm approaches rapidly at her words, and he’s desperate to get Y/N there again, hand trailing down her body to find her puffy clit. She jumps at the feeling.

“Shh, I know you’re sensitive, baby. Just need one more,” he kisses her again. “Be good f’me and then I’ll give you my come.” Y/N whines, trying to turn her head into the mattress. “Where would you like it? On your tits? Your ass?” He thrusts in harder. “I think I’d like it on your tummy, what d’you think?”

“Yes,” Y/N moans, unspecific in her agreement.

Harry laughs. “You don’t think anything, do you? Just lay there all pretty and let me do all the hard work.” His hips snap against her harder and harder—pace still slow but he’s hitting her spongy spot unquestionably as Y/N grips onto his biceps that bulge underneath her palms.

“Harry,” she cries, pussy starting to flutter around him.

He groans, “Fuck, squeeze my cock like that. You feel so good.”

He stretches down, taking her nipple into his mouth and tonguing over the pebbled peak. The sound of his balls thwacking against her ass reverberates, and Y/N’s moans compete for volume as she contracts tighter, and tighter around him. 

“Y’my person, en’t that right?” He circles her clit faster.

Y/N nods, neck stretching as she turns her head about against the sheets. Desperately, she grasps at his back, silently begging for his closeness. Harry drops down, hand trapped between them awkwardly but the weight of him delights her considerably as he hits deeper inside of her.

“Yours,” she exhales. “Please come, Harry.”

His hips stutter, nearly shooting right inside of her. “You first, baby.” Harry speeds up his hand and rolls her other nipple between his teeth. “Soak me.”

Y/N clamps down around him, tightness hurling Harry closer, as she comes for the third time that night. Her mouth opens in a silent cry, so exhausted but so blissful. Her nails dig into his skin and he relishes in the sharp pain, pulling his hand away to coax his wet fingers into her mouth. 

Watching Y/N’s satisfied expression as she cleans his fingers is enough to make Harry come, pulling out of her quickly and fisting his hand over his cock a couple of times before he’s painting her stomach white. He groans, head hanging low with his eyes fighting to stay locked with Y/N’s.

And then he’s flopping down on top of her, uncaring of the come he’s lying on. He’ll get up in a minute, find a washcloth and clean them both up, before gathering her up in his arms and praying to God (if he has to) that this isn’t a dream.

He thinks that after eighty years of killing and feeling like he’d found his purpose, that his life has new meaning now. That this is what he was meant to do. That Y/N is his purpose.

ㅤㅤ

“Harry?” Her soft voice pulls him from his head and he pushes back just enough to look down at her sleepy face. “I’m so happy,” she smiles, “and I’m so glad Imogen is a useless angel.”

He laughs, from deep within his chest, and leans down to smear their lips together—unable to kiss her for long without breaking into a smile—before pulling back and whispering against her forehead.

“Me too, Bambi, me too.”

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