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mandukkul · 11 months

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TEENAGE ANGST — n. rk

synopsis: you’re suppose to spend yet another birthday alone wallowing in teenage angst, but someone steps in and breaks the cycle

tags: non!idol!riki x f!reader, comfort, angst (not too much i think), a bit of fluff, maybe coming of age

warnings: riki doesn’t appear until like 1/3 into the oneshot, NOT PROOFREAD!!! cursing, angst (i think), spelling and grammatical errors (i wrote tbis at 2am and finshed it at 3 leave me alone), lots and lots of mis-capitalisations, tense errors probably, teenage angst 😰 , let me know if there are any more

word count: 4.7k

published: 13 July

authors note: first writing piece on here, my birthday is on september 8th but i wrote this maybe back in may

You think as a teenager, the worst thing that could affect you was teenage angst. but for you, it would probably be the least of your problems. Instead wallowing like every other teenager before you, locked deep into their rooms never to see the sun until they were 20, you decide it’s better to fix your problem with a day out.

you’re going to be better than what the stereotype says. I mean who’s better at swimming in your own self pity than yourself of course. Even if your parents had decided that travelling abroad for months on end as a job was better than staying at home in the giant house they bought to live as a family, or leave a teenager alone instead of bringing her along, you won’t let it bother you like it did the previous years.

Although you couldn’t feel bad, your parents were dreaming big, even if you became merely a side thought in that dream. Any teenager would live blissfully with all the materials you had. It was truly a dream, but a dream can only become reality if you make it.

You’re not going to think so negatively and say that people around you would rather see you burn than to see you happy, even though that’s exactly what you’re saying.

You’re a kid with everything you want, but surrounded by other kids who are and have basically the same as you, only with parents in the picture, you’re at bare minimum on the grand scale of things.

To live your life with no one by your side, unless you count the people who dislike you at school, is harder than you think.

But you’ve lived your life like this far too long to complain, it’s been routine to be left alone. only now, the difference is that your birthday was today.

spending what most would say a precious day, in a house so hollow you’d think it was abandoned isn’t exactly ideal. Being alone could only add to your ever growing list of reasons to angst over. not even you, who seemed accustomed to this trend, would want to be reminded of how alone— lonely— you are.

so to attempt to turn a new leaf, you urge yourself to spend it differently, you told yourself. straying from your normally secretive emo self, you decide that traveling to the next suburb ,since you heard about a new promotion of the manga you liked being released in a cafe in said suburb, was a good way to ignore your ever piling problems of self-destructive tendencies.

but oh how the world is against you, even if it is your birthday.

The bus suddenly needs to take a detour to a different area you’re not too familiar with, then declares that the route must be canceled due to complications leaving you stranded in the middle of butt fuck nowhere. When checking your phone to find where you are, you see that you are not only an hour walk away from your house, but your phone is standing on its last legs with a messily 20%.

To test your limits further, the sky starts to cry the moment you’re just far enough from your house that running back would do more harm than good.

you quickly scope your area, finding that there are no parks in the vicinity to offer mercy from the rain, and the closest shelter is either 20 minutes forward to the bus stop or the array of trees planted along the side wall as decorations.

you way your options, and take the tree closest to you as refuge. you’re glad the area you’ve wandered to is littered with them, even better that they're thick enough to offer some kind of protection.

minutes passed and the rain hasn’t let up, going at the same harsh rate it has been going at for the past 10 minutes. your clothes, so obviously drenched, weighs you down causing your minimal moves to become sluggish (or maybe it’s the premonition of sickness approaching).

the trees hang low with despair, mimicking your very attitude. rain licks your face, and you can’t tell whether your tears finally made its greeting or it’s rain getting into your eyes.

you start to ponder whether running to the back home would be a better idea than your lovely tree, the idea of escaping your rain soaked clothes seeming like a dream as of right now, a dream escaping you the longer you wait.

you test your already bad luck, because god so obviously has a vendetta against you, deciding your next best option was to end your little escapade and head back home in the rain.

Barely ten minutes in, with wet sneakers splashing into deep puddles and your clothes glued to you like second skin, the rain starts to roar, angered by your decision apparently.

your vision can’t help but blur due to the heavy rain clouding your sight, and the hair that stubbornly sticks itself into your forehead and subsequently, your eyes. it’s hazy and you can barely make out the road in front of you, you’re glad the path ahead of you is empty and that you’ve arrived in a more familiar area.

I guess not even you can escape the clutches of teenage angst, slowing your strides and accepting your fate.

you think how stupid and cliche you look walking in the rain with a frown. Your feet dragging, now feeling the effects of almost an hour in the rain, and on your birthday of all days. The only thing to complete your look was loud sad emo music.

stopping in your tracks, letting the rain do what it wants, you begin to think back to what you must’ve done to anger god so much.

you shut your eyes for just a moment, to shield yourself from rain trying to attack your eyes, but the rain suddenly stops, or more accurately, something is blocking the rain from you. you begin to hear the pitter patter of rain against an umbrella and just for a moment, you think god has found pity in your wallow and granted you mercy. When opening your eyes, low and behold, a black umbrella meets your face.

oh and there’s Riki, or what he likes to be called, Niki, standing in front of you, holding the umbrella over your head acting as your current saviour.

so much for God's mercy.

If your day wasn’t already so bad, you’d say that seeing niki would be the worst part of your day. Unfortunately for you though, it was the best.

you and niki have never been on the same page, ever since he ‘accidentally’ bumped into you while you were in an empty hall. you had given him many chances to be nice to you, or atleast apologise, but as days passed from the first meeting, all you’ve received was strange stares you know all too well. When confronting him, all he could do is ignore you and or play dumb. This interaction had left a massive rift between the two of you, and being a not so popular kid in highschool compared to the ‘king of dance’ was not a good look.

“why are you trying to be a main character” is the last voice you want to hear from, especially on this joke of a birthday. you crane your neck slightly, meeting face to face with the face you hate (and hate to say is extremely easy on the eyes). “why are you trying to stop my main character moment” you shoot back with equally as much snark, but it comes off weak as you underestimated the sound of rain.

Niki looks down at you with the same glint in his eye you dislike, not because it was a judgmental one, but one of mystery because you can never guess what he’s thinking. “sorry sorry, should i let you get back to that” he removes the umbrella from above you but you make no attempt to stop him.

the rain embraces you once again, as harsh it was moments ago. you state a niki again, his dry figure under the comfort of his darken umbrella, staring at you who seemed to be physically separated from him.

talk about rift.

you’ve never noticed how far you were from niki, in a metaphorical sense. Niki had everything you had, and more. He had people to talk to, hang out with, care about and care for. He too, probably went through his fair share of teenage angst, but you think to yourself that this is the first (and only) win.

he sees this and halts his movement, examining your figure deeply. you seem tired. along with the wet suit you’re wearing, and unruly hair dripping at its tips, you look far different to how you present yourself at school. nonchalant and cool, an enigmatic girl who seems to always be out of everyone’s business but as of now, you look (in the nicest way possible) like a train wreck.

“Are you taking joy out of watching me wallow?” you scoff, staring at him with a distasteful eye, “i’m not a sadist” he jokes but he’s the only one who’s smiling.

he coughs to clear his throat, or maybe the awkward atmosphere, you’re too tired to care. you watch as he moves the umbrella back under you, “why are you standing in the rain anyways?” he questions.

“m trying to get home” you whisper loud enough to beat the rain, looking at Niki who’s features seem to fuzz up the more you blink.

“don’t you live 3 streets away?” he adds, you only nodding in response.

your movements are suddenly too sluggish to call lazy, the effects of an hour in the rain finally hitting you.

“aren’t your parents worried?”

probably

“my parents are overseas,” you mumble as he nods knowingly, having his fair shares of travelling parents, although he has his sisters to accompany him, “and i don’t feel like spending my day alone”

birthday

you think how this is the first real conversation you’ve had with niki, ever since your first encounter. Normally you’d stray away from him, so much as look in your direction, you’re off to avoid further conflict and instead plan a faux argument comeback for if the day ever arrives.

you rub your eye to rid the haze that had gotten worse, along with the bodily ache and pounding head.

niki notices, he always notices you. seeing you off in your own world from a distance.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his tone laced with concern, or at least that's what you think. He moves his hand to wipe some hair out of your face, attempting to help with your irritable eyes.

Despite the cold weather, you’re hot to the touch.

“oh shit, you’re burning up” he goes into mother mode as he touches your forehead, seeing as that’s what his sister and mother do when he has his own fever. you mumble an incoherent response, you’re not sure what you said either.

“I should get home then” you mumble, stepping away from safety and into the rain. He goes to stop you, but the moment you move you’re in shambles, collapsing into his arms like some damsel in distress.

oh fuck

…

sometimes you think to yourself, what did you do to end up here? and when i mean here, i don’t mean the literal sense, i mean the place you are in life, because for you, all you seem to do is piss of whoever’s writing your story, because why else would you be living such a shitty (but not enough to outwardly complain) life.

The second you wake up in bed was your first red flag. the sheets a bluish grey, far different from your own floral white ones. The bed is softer, and the quilt more warm, but that might just be from the sheer exhaustion you exhibited some time ago.

The next flag was the scary tall silhouette you see entering the room, holding what looks like a black plastic bag filled with various things.

riki looks much more intimidating when all you can make out is his outline.

the moment he turns around from shutting the door, he sees your eyes staring at him and the previous blank expression he wore changes into a face of concern.

“oh you’re awake” he scrambles words together as he stalks up to for bedside, placing the plastic bag beside him as he examines your condition like some kind of doctor.

“clearly” you croak, and you find out that your voice is extremely hoarse (and sore).

“try not to speak, i think you have a fever from standing under the rain” he deduces but you can’t help but scoff, “gee, who would’ve guessed”.

the sick you are even snarky than normal you.

Niki chuckles at your comment as he shuffles around the plastic bag for a bottle of water and what looks like painkillers.

you shift your head to watch him as he assorts the medicine and water onto the bedside table, pulling out a small mandarin to complete the collection.

“What's with the orange?” you whisper, trying to not use your voice too much, “vitamin c” he answers simply and you can’t help but laugh at him.

you manoeuvre into a sitting position to take what he’s giving you, ignoring the pain striking your head as you do so.

as you pop pills and chug water, you continue to scan the room. It's pretty boring, with a table with a few pieces of stationary, and a shelf with some personal touches.

Niki sees you’re so obviously inspecting the room, and coughs up an answer.

“oh umm- sorry. i didn’t know where you lived and you had passed out and i panicked and brought you to my house” he explains. that explains the strange surroundings. you’re in his room.

you think about how different his room is to what you originally assumed. no trophies, or obnoxious posters. a very standard and boring room for someone so rich.

his voice snaps you out of your thoughts, “i’ll leave you to rest” he starts to get up and you don’t know what has gotten over you, but the moment you see him shift away, you grasp his wrist urging his attention back on you.

he stares at you intently, as if he’d listen to the hours of silence you’d make if you chose to.

under his scrutinising gaze, you can’t help but avert your gaze. “I don't want to spend my birthday alone” you unconsciously mumble and you feel pathetic as you hear the words leave your mouth.

a raging silence fills the room, and your own anxiety gets the best of you as you loosen your grip around his wrist.

the moment he longer feels your fingers against him, he reaches for you back which surely catches your attention.

you never had a real interaction with the boy, especially due to the circumstances you (or him) were put through but your distaste for him wasn't baseless, even if your heart felt different.

Speaking about heart, it was pounding so loudly against your chest, you could’ve sworn Niki would dance to it.

“It's your birthday?” he’s grip on your hand is gentle, almost delicate as if you’d crack under the pressure of his touch. you nod softly, not facing him but you can tell what he’s thinking.

you probably seem more like a loser than you already are, you feel like that at least.

Riki nods his head, gently as to let your eyes follow enough not to be bothered by such movements. He repositions himself beside his own bed, hand still attached to yours.

you try everything in your power to ignore his riveting gaze, but the awkwardness is much louder than the silence itself.

you ponder to yourself, if this birthday was one of your best ones or the worse. you silently compare back to when you were six, and everyone and their friends were there. your parents seemed less concerned with otherworldly matters and you focused on nothing but the people around you.

That was the last time you felt noticed.

teenage angst must’ve hit you really early, huh?

then, back to just 14, where it was yet another year alone, with no one at school knowing who you are (yet because the moment you meet riki everything had a turn for the one worse), your parents at god knows where, living their best business lives, and this is your first time spending your birthday alone (first of a few).

you think how empty your house was, how dark and voided it felt, feeding into your ever growing reasons to angst.

and now you think of now, despite being ill with a rising fever, you don’t feel as bad as you did back then. you can’t tell if it’s just your delirious mind putting it’s fair share of delusional thoughts into you, or it’s just because you haven’t had company in so long. but the hand wrapped around yours, and the feeling of someone (even if it’s the ever so terrible niki) next you that made you smile.

“What are you smiling about? Are you going through shock?” niki’s voice is a mixture of playfulness and concern, because even if the chances of you suddenly falling into a seizure is low, it isn’t zero.

your eyes trail to him, but not to his eyes, you wouldn’t dare look straight at him.

“I thought it was going to be another bad birthday” you shrug, and you can’t for the life of you, wipe off your smile, not now because Riki finds it in himself to squeeze your hand.

you expect another remark, because that’s all your conversations seem to be (from the single one you’ve just had earlier) but nothing of the sort came, instead, from the corner of your eyes, you see him smile.

the nicest type of smile, with his boxy edges, and eyes squeezing softly.

if you weren’t looking at him before, you are now.

“I'm glad” that’s all he says, and your heart clenches at something that isn’t depression and anxiety.

The overwhelming feeling of awkwardness has long dissipated and has been replaced with something else.

something new.

you stare intently into his eyes, moreso, he does and you are compelled to look back. He's searching for something, in the darkness of the room it seems like.

you can barely make out his features, soft eyes, and sharp jaw. his hair perfectly framing his face, to much of your distaste, and is slightly damp probably from just getting back from wherever he went.

you wonder what’s going inside that head of his, while staring so intently at you, dissecting every little part of you. does he notice the droop of your eyes, how tired you look, how pale your skin has gotten from days locked in your room, how your cheeks never flushed with life yet was always plush to the touch (probably from all the instant food you’ve consumed)

does he notice the teenage angst you wallow in, him probably going through the same trivial problems as you.

“Sorry you have to spend your weekend with me” you whisper, thinking about all the other things the “king of dance” could be doing instead of nurturing you back to health.

He’d probably be out with heeseung or jake at the local gaming cafe, laughing and playing. He was probably on his way there if not for running into you.

you don’t break eye contact so you see how his eyes double in size, quick to shake his head, your own aching from following his movements. “hey don’t say that” he scolds you, taking his other hand to caress yours.

How intimate does he get?

your skin burns from his touch, and not because your fever is bordering on 39° C. Your eyes tear away, too much of your brains disliking because, even if you dislike him, he’s very nice to look at.

“no one deserves to spend their birthday alone” and he may be right, but your own angsty self could beg to differ.

because with the cards dealt to you, and the way you’ve treated the world (because how it treated you) there’s no doubt there’s a love hate (mostly hate) relationship going on between you and life.

“Even more, now that you’re sick” he adds on, rubbing circles to the back of your hand and you feel comfort for the first time in a while.

“i guess even someone who hates me can be nice, huh?” you didn't mean to say that out loud, but your quiet voice is too intertwined with your head voice, mixed with the fact that you’re terribly sick, couldn’t tell the difference.

he stares at you quizzingly, as if you’ve said something so utterly absurd it’s left him speechless.

“i don’t hate you”

those words catch you off guard. because the words “don't” and “hate” have never been uttered on the same line with “you” following after it.

you stay silent. it’s your birthday so of course he wouldn’t uprightly say it to your face.

“Do you hate me?”

he asks and you take a moment to ponder, about the strange stairs he’s given you, and the amount of times he’s ignored you piled with how everyone at school seems to stray away from you.

you only hate him because he hates you

“i only hated you because you hate me”

niki is left truly speechless (in a metaphorical sense), and his jaw is literally cracked wide.

“what?!? I don't hate you! god! i could never hate you”

like a cringey teenage cliche, you bite your lip holding back an unwanted grin.

“don’t say the lord's name in vain” you mutter to make light of the situation.

not having friends didn't mean you weren’t socially inept.

Your dry chuckle is the only sound left in the room, other than the pattering of rain. riki can’t help but frown at the news he just heard.

“i’ve never hated you, not for a second” he looks at you as if he’s trying to convince you, telling you that all your internalised monologues were for nothing, “i just thought… since you were so stand-off-ish, that you just didn't like me” you shrug, averting from his gaze.

words pour out of you like vomit and you can no longer keep up your enigmatic cool girl facade, not now that you’re sick.

“not many people like me, so i assume you hate me jusy as much, and well, if you hated me, i figured i should hate you back”

and you did, well you tried to at least. but in moments like these; where niki holds your hand as if you’re the only thing keeping him alive, where his eyes never leave your lips because he’s so set on remembering every little detail you say, afraid your words will be lost to tone. you can’t help but not hate him at all, noy one bit.

“how could i hate you when you’re just so perfect” he whispers, almost like a confession.

actually he did confess. to you. right now.

you owlishly blink, and suddenly think that your beating heart is more serious than your fever.

you try to snatch your hand away from him, in embarrassment of him feeling how hot you feel, with the tips of your ears flaming red.

with your averted gaze, it’s not like you can see that his neck has a creeping speck of hot red as well as his cheeks, ears, and everything on him.

He's so glad it’s dark right now.

“you can’t just say that, riki” it’s the first time you’ve said his name.

his name out of your mouth, your tongue, your lips.

He wants to hear it again.

“Why not?” he eggs, leaning closer despite the strange territory they’ve suddenly entered.

“Some people might get the wrong idea” and by some, you mean yourself because even with the minimal things you know about the boy next to you, your heart is fluttering like crazy it makes you want to vomit.

“But I'm not lying, you’re so perfect” Riki reiterates, “you’re so perfect, i’m afraid to even talk to you, or look at you, even be around you” he rambled at the amount of failed attempts to talk to you, caused by his shyness.

so… everytime you tried to talk to him, walked near him, caught him staring, it was all because of some silly crush?

and now you feel stupid, ontop of your crippling angst, you’ve failed at teenage romance.

letting out a frustrating sigh, so heavy you might even blow the poor boy away, you drop down ontop your back and whine.

he’s shocked for a moment, watching you wail with your hands covering your face.

he finds you so cute, his stomach might because an olympic gymnast at this point.

riki crawls closer to you, kneeling onto his knees as he gently pries your hand away from your face. “I feel so stupid” you can’t help but utter, eyes shut to avoid his eyes.

riki grins, leaning closer (not that you could see), “the smartest girl at school? Feeling stupid? That's a first” he jokes and you unintentionally snort out a laugh, “i’m not the smartest” you instantly shoot back, slowly opening your eyes.

“oh but you are, you’re smart, and beautiful, and mysterious and witty and-“ you rip your hand from his grip to cover his mouth, any more and your ego will start to inflate and be as big as Sunghoon’s. “aish, stop that

'' You laugh, and you can hear him giggling along.

“But why? can’t i tell the girl i like how amazingly perfect she is?”

the girl he likes…

the.

girl

likes

IS YOU?

“you like me…” you gape, maybe you are socially inept, or at least, romantically.

riki laughs, and a hearty one at that. the type of laugh that comes straight from the stomach. “how could anyone not?” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

like the teenage girl you are, you can’t help but feel bubbly and giddy, like the princess in some lame disney movie being swept off her feet by a guy who’s probably way too old for her (funny seeing that riki’s younger than you).

Then guilt hits you. as much as you want to revel in this blissful joy, you know nothing about riki, and you spent so long hating on him in your head to suddenly switch up.

“I know nothing about you though…” you break the news to him, “i mean, we technically just had our first real conversation”.

riki can’t help but smile, even if he’s just been indirectly rejected, your gentleness in letting him down makes him swoon even more.

“we can get to know each other then” he declares, smiling down at you.

“But are you willing to wait?” your eyes fill with anticipation, hoping for the best (it is your birthday after all), and wonder for the first time in forever, smiling from ear to ear.

“for you, i’d wait a thousand years”

if what he said before wasn't swoon worthy, this definitely was.

you feel like one of his silly fangirls that wait outside of class, giggling at his stupid smile but this time, you know you’re the cause of it.

“Are you going to start singing Christina Aguilera now?” you joke, giggling quietly to yourself. “I mean you should, since it’s my birthday after all” oh what a good birthday it was.

“anything for my birthday girl” Seeing your smile stretch for the first time, he hopes he’d be seeing that everyday in the near future.

Riki looks at you, for what feels like the millionth time. He really looks at you, like he did at school, like he did on the street in the rain, and like he does now.

and he thinks to himself:

yeah, I can definitely wait.

authors note pt.2: as you can see i write a lot for riki (my bias) mostly because i have so many wips that i s decided to release 🤭 might accept request who knows. also if you have any tips on how to write or do a layout please pm!!!!

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doxypsychlean · 2 years

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Aegon II Targaryen x reader who is manipulative and uses the motherly love he never got to get her own way. They both love each other but in a toxic yandere kinda way 😂

Wrapped around your finger

Yandere!Aegon ii Targaryen x Yandere!Reader

Headcanons|

Warnings: none? pls tell me if I've missed sth

Thou shan't repost/copy/ translate any of my work or I'll sneak into your home late at night and bite your nose off!

English isn't my first language. I don't proofread. I slap commas wherever I feel they're needed.

A/N: Aegon and Halaena aren't together in this one. It's also pretty sweet, despite their ?yandere? tendencies.

Oh, he really thinks he's that good.

Then you come around.

You, a lady of noble descent and a member of one of the greater houses in Westeros, are also one of his greatest rivals when it comes to having the worst reputation in all the realms.

At first, it's just harmless fun. Nothing too serious.

But then you become a witness to the way his family treats him.

You work your way into his heart and head. I mean, who in their right mind would miss out on the opportunity of being Queen of Westeros one day, amirite?

He bites the bait pretty quickly.

Aegon is obsessed with the way you shower him with affection and love.

He'd be spending most of his time in your arms, begging for you to tell him how much you love, how unfair his mother is to him.

Alicent hates you at first.

The hatred turns to admiration with time, seeing as you gain complete control over her son and mold him to your liking.

But there's more to what she's feeling towards you- fear. With the way things are going, all it would take is for you to snap your fingers and Aegon would kill them all. For you.

You never do, thank the Gods, and for that you have the Queen's utmost respect and gratitude.

She never lays a hand on him again. She doesn't have to, but she's also too scared to do it.

He still drinks, maybe not as much as he did before, but he no longer chases after the servant girls. As if you'd even allow it to happen.

The first time you realize what you feel for him might be actual love, is when you order for some noble lady to be "displaced" from the Red Keep. You didn't like the way she stared at him. Cue, girly losing her eyes for that one.

He was yours and the only way to get him away would be to pull him out of your cold fingers. And you had no intention of dying any time soon.

Aegon rarely goes out of the Red Keep anymore and when he does, you're always with him. The Prince has glued himself to you, whether you like it or not.

On the rare occasions of you two not being present in the castle, golden scales could be seen shimmering high above King's Landing. Sunfyre loves you, the golden beast could feel the strong bond between his rider and you.

Expect lots of expensive gifts- lavish dresses, the rarest perfumes from Essos, jewelry, books, horses, ginormous bouquets of your favorite flowers, commissioned portraits of you two, gold, sweets, etc.

You want it? You'll have it. Simple as that.

He'd never thought of himself as a jealous man, but the second he sees his brother talking to you and you laughing... All Seven Hells break loose.

Aegon turns into a sniveling, whining mess, hands wrapping around you as if his life depends on it.

All the while shooting daggers at Aemond behind your back, daring him to come closer so he could claw his remaining eye out.

Few soft words from you and he's melting.

You love him. He loves you. Everything is more than fine. He completely forgets about Aemond, who's slowly backing away from you two.

You get married not long after. Neither one of your families is brave enough to say a word against the union, seeing as ...

You absolutely never tried to hide it from the public.

You're all over eachother for the most of it.

Both men and women are dropping like flies around you, if they just as much as stared at either of you for a second too long.

Both yours and his family are equally scared and would rather keep away, than try and separate you.

Word spreads around quickly. You're with child.

Aegon's over the moon. You're his. He's yours. Completely.

The prove pops out not long after. Then another. And another.

He would 100% elbow the midwife in the face if she tries to keep him away from you while you're giving birth.

"My Prince, you cannot..."

"Out of my way, you old hag, my wife is in there!"

He was there while you were making them, he has every right to be there while you squeeze them out.

Definitely cries his ass off when he holds your firstborn.

His tunic is discarded quickly as he holds the small bundle close to his bare chest.

Then he wraps one hand around you, almost crushing your neck with how strong he's squeezing you.

Same thing goes down every single time- he storms in, kid comes out, he's bawling his eyes out at the sight.

You pick the dragon eggs for each and every one of them together.

Aegon's just as obsessed with your children, as he is with you.

Gods forbid someone makes one of his little bundles of joy cry...Heads will be flying in all directions, no matter who they belong to.

Not even the Stranger would be able to pull you apart.

Even in death, you'd find a way to be back together.

#hotd fanfic #hotd #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii targaryen #hotd headcanon #headcanon #yandere #but not really #idk yall will be the judges #game of thrones fanfic #game of thrones #accepting requests #dance of dragons #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon the second

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freefallfiction · 1 month

Text

File: Masterlist (Criminal Minds)

Last Reviewed: 5/16/2024

Originally posted by tinywolfcoffee

rules No Pedoph!l!c Content No Minor Interaction Send Requests Through The 'Asks' Channel Fem!Reader Unless Requested Otherwise Don't Like Don't Read Mind The Warnings Have Fun

S. Reid

United In Grief

How long can two hurting people hold on with only love keeping them together?

Late Night Concessions

Someone broke into your place; it was just past midnight and the rain was near deafening, but you were sure that was the sound of your front door window being shattered. With your phone on silent and Spencer’s number already dialed, you can only hope they’re here for your purse and tv and not the hiding girl beneath the bed.

Re-Run Special

Spencer finds love with a genius hedonistic girl who turns his world upside down, but their clash of personalities can leave him feeling a little left behind.

Play Your Cards Right

Y/n always loved Yu-Gi-Oh. From watching the show as a kid to trading and playing the card game, it’s always been a part of her life-- she should have known her boyfriend would try to learn it for her.

Coffee, My Secret Admirer

He had been wanting to try out the coffee shop on west and third for a while now, and he finally had the chance. He never thought he’d be caught up in a romance when a beautiful girl hopped over the counter and took his order, nor did he think they’d turn into not-so-secret admirers of one another.

Scale of Mental Stability

When a string of murders pick off where a long-arrested serial killer left off, the FBI’s first stop is the children of the cursed family. The problem? The only person who hates the man more than the son they arrested, is the daughter who’s out for blood.

My Hermes (Sending Me Letters From Above)

A coincidental meeting years ago leaves Spencer enthralled by a voice heard in the most unfortunate of circumstances. Y/n couldn't forget the man who gave her the best gift of all, the phone call of a lifetime.

The Seven Stages Of Loving You

A seven part series where Spencer falls in love with the BAU’s CI, or, Spencer finds out just how hard it is to build a future with someone constantly attacked by their past.

Absquatulate

Years had passed. Cases opened and closed, books were written and sold, the world spun and spun until... until it didn’t. The world kept moving until three am on Halloween night-- six shots of whiskey deep-- the world crashed down.

A. Hotch

Last Man Standing

No matter what it takes, even as bodies fall all around him and blood paints the streets, he will come home to you.

Just Like The Movies

It was a rare sight even before what will henceforth be known only as 'the incident' for Aarons smile to stretch so wide his eyes crinkled in a boyish manner that everyone believed was lost to time. It must have been a miracle.

The Egg Crusher

Serial killers in their own backyard had a tendency to start fires within the team that burn hotter than usual; one targeting pregnant women was practically begging them to shut him down. Aaron had begged her to take off work and finally start maternity leave. The worst part was she listened; the constant messages to his work email that set of ‘nesting’ alarms in his head had him convinced she had dived head first into it. Then he gets one signed off with the hidden moniker used when one of them gets themselves in trouble.

D. Morgan

Where You Go (I Wanna Go With You)

Derek always believed the job came first; complete the mission however he needed to for the case to close and the rest was simply collateral damage. Even now, when all is said and done, he couldn't say when his priorities shifted.

Where You Go (I Go)

Derek knew what it meant to be a great soldier. He knew how to follow all the rules and take initiative when appropriate; he’d learned these things as a means of survival. Even if the country he serves has dwindled down to one person, he knows to do everything in his power to get to her till his dying breath. (a part two)

Domesticated

The people at work tried to be more encouraging than envious when her boyfriend insists on driving her to and from work some random Tuesday. The imposing figure the man struck was intimidating, yet they all called him her ‘doberman puppy’.

J. Gideon

The Heart

He thought he'd lost it forever; for years it had been pegged as just another thing the horrors of his profession had stolen from him, a risk his mind simply wouldn't allow him to take. He should have known the brain had no power over matters of the heart.

E. Prentiss

Dancing With The Stars

Maybe in another world, when Emily crossed the dimly lit ballroom with a cutting smile and wandering hand, she did it without the mic in her ear.

E. Greenway

Comfort, Come Forth, King Forge

It was a dangerous field; that was all anyone ever said- you're a small girl, they'll eat you alive. For years after the academy she was always a girl first agent second; then she met her.

D. Rossi

Bella, Ciao

He may have chosen the wild life, but his heart remained every faithful in her hands.

These Trembling Hands

He thought it might be over; similar fates have happened to men far more successful than he. A mission gone wrong and they're sent to recovery, a mandates psych eval that already is stamped 'denied' to send him into retirement. He never thought he'd last this long in the first place, and if the pretty psychiatrist was his parting present he'd be a fool to look the gifted horse in the eye.

P. Garcia

Something Lost, Something Gained

It was a gilded reassignment that brought the new liaison to the team; she was, perhaps, the only agent who loathed the idea of being tacked on to the BAU's list of revolving-door members. The Cyber Response Unit had been home ever since the academy, but a single misstep had started the spiral towards madness, better known as the Behavioral Analysis Unit. Hopefully there would be someone on the team that wouldn't inherently know every little secret which had been carefully tucked away.

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therealcocoshady · 3 months

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Recovery - Chapter 32

Eminem x FemReader Fanfiction

Summary : Reader has to make a tough decision - stay in Paris or move to Detroit with Em.

Tags : ANGST - Comfort - Fluff

MARSHALL’S POV

After dinner with her Dad went terribly wrong, Y/N did not sleep the whole night. Marshall knew it because he couldn’t close an eye himself, being too busy trying to get her to move to Detroit with him instead of staying in France. He felt her tossing and turning in bed and even heard her crying. He tried cuddling with her but she seemed to want to be left alone. It broke his heart a little, making him feel powerless, but he gave her the space she needed. So instead, he tried to think of things he could tell her to convince her to get on the plane with him. The initial plan was for her to join him a week after he got back, but after that shitshow of a night, there was no way he was letting her move back with her asshole of a father. If the man was manipulative enough to emotionally blackmail her, who was to say he wouldn’t succeed ? Especially when Y/N was in such a vulnerable state. No offense to her, but she was already incredibly sensitive, even when everything was going well, not to mention that she wasn’t exactly the most assertive person in the world. Almost the contrary, actually. He loved her, but sometimes he worried about her people-pleasing tendency. Ever since they had met, she had been one to go with the flow, always trying to make everyone around her comfortable and happy, prioritizing everyone’s needs but her own. Her easy-going, kind and generous nature were partly why he fell for her in the first place, as she seemed to be the polar opposite to him and to a lot of women he had dated in the past, but it was only ok to an extent. It was of little consequence when it came to picking a movie to watch or what to eat for dinner, but when it was about major life decisions, it was different.

The whole situation also prompted him to check his own feelings and emotions. If he was honest, he wasn’t completely selfless. God knew he could be the most selfish person, sometimes, especially when he was in a relationship. Obviously, he wanted her to move in with him because he knew it would make him happy. The perspective of waking up next to her in the morning, coming home to her smile after long days at the studio and being able to spend as much time with her as possible was incredibly exciting. Plus, he didn’t believe in long-distance relationships, especially for him. With his work, his schedule could get pretty hectic and they could be apart for months at a time and there was no way he could do that. Six months without her had nearly killed him. So, in more ways than one, he would benefit in convincing her to move back to Detroit. But it wasn’t only about him : it was about her. He wanted nothing but to make her happy. She had told him how depressed she’s been ever since she had moved back with her father, in Paris. He knew everything about the days she’d spent crying, not getting out of their small apartment, not seeing anyone for weeks because she had left everything and everyone she knew and loved in Michigan. She deserved so much more than this, and he wanted nothing but to give her the life she was worthy of. If she moved in with him, she would live in a nice house, be close to her best friends, and he would make sure to fill her days with bliss. Everything she would wish for, he would make sure to provide her with - he had been a disappointment to a ton of women in the past but for her, he would try to be the best version of himself because she deserved it and he didn’t want to lose her. However, he knew her well enough to know that these promises would not be sufficient. She was too scared to lose her father and didn’t actually believe that she was worthy of her boyfriend trying to give her a good life anyway… Also, there was another issue : worst comes to worst, his status as her boyfriend would come to bite him in the ass. It might seem as he was purposefully trying to estrange her from her only remaining relative. Not that he expected her to throw that in his face, but life had thrown him enough curveballs for him to prepare for the worst case scenario. Plus, the decision would make so much more sense if she came to it on her own. But then again, it was unlikely, even though the benefits were endless : closeness to her friends, better job opportunities in her field, living with the love of her life (her words, not his), not to mention being thousands of miles away from her bastard father… If only there was someone that could convince her and that had no real stake in this… That’s when it hit him : there was someone. Talia. He had always liked Jamal’s girlfriend, in spite of her (or maybe because of it). He owed her a lot : she was the one who brought Y/N into his life and she even took care of him when he was processing the breakup, force-feeding him and calling him out on his lack of self-care. And once again, she might be the one saving the day. Jamal had been right to put a ring on it : she was extraordinary (not that he would ever say that to her face, mind you, she was already insufferable as it was). He quickly sent her a text.

To Talia : Need a favor. Can you call Y/N and check on her ? Don’t tell her I asked you.

It was pretty late at night so he wasn’t too sure whether or not she would get the message right away, with the time difference and everything. However, a few minutes later, he felt his phone buzzing.

From Talia : Why ? What’s up ? What did you do ?

To Talia : Just call her in the morning. Please. It’s REALLY important. I will owe you BIG TIME. Please.

From Talia : Is she ok ? Aren’t you with her ?

To Talia : Yes she’s next to me but something went wrong with her dad.

He crossed his fingers and hoped Talia would manage to get through to Y/N. When he turned to her, her back was still turned to him but it seemed like she had fallen asleep. He placed a soft kiss on her shoulder and tried to get some rest..

Y/N’s POV

The night after the dinner, you didn’t get much sleep. Every time you would close your eyes, you started to relive the whole scene : your Dad belittling you every chance he could get, the argument, him slapping you and Marshall punching him. What a disaster it had been. When your father had asked - no, demanded - that you introduce Marshall to him, you had been a little stressed out. You knew how hard he could be, but you had brushed it off, thinking that it couldn’t possibly be that bad. After all, when he had met Simon, things had turned out to be pretty good - not perfect, but good enough. And even though you knew he wouldn’t be overjoyed once he actually knew who Marshall was, his job, family situation and his age, you thought it would be ok. Obviously, you had been proven wrong. To be fair, it had often been like this : your father was protective of you and, even though you were an adult, every time the two of you got together, he made you feel like a little girl and acted like he knew what was good for you and you didn’t. You tended to blame it on the fact that he had had a hard life and was really protective of you, you being his only child, a daughter and him having raised you on his own after becoming a widower when he was in his late twenties. You were a Daddy’s girl through and through : even though he could be tough, he was the most important man in your life, the one who had raised you, taught you, supported your plan of studying in America… So when he told you that if you made the decision to move back to Detroit and be with Marshall, you wouldn’t be his daughter anymore, you were crushed. He was your only family and, for years until you moved out, he was your only point of reference. How could you possibly lose him ? The thought was haunting you. You wanted to be with Marshall more than anything in the world and you had no doubt that he would make good on his promise to make you happy, but now that there was so much at stake, that you could actually lose your father, you did not feel ready to make that choice. To make matters worse, you feel a bit pressured by Marshall. You saw how freaked out he was when you told him you couldn’t move back to Detroit. It was understandable, of course, but he could be so manichaean, sometimes. You could see where he was coming from, but judging by how he put things, you should pack your things right away and move back to Detroit without looking back, without a care for what you were leaving behind, without a care for your father. Did you really want to be this kind of ungrateful child ? Wasn’t it necessary, sometimes, to make sacrifices for the ones we love ? Or, to put things more truthfully, the ones we are supposed to love ? If you were being completely honest, you weren’t too sure about your relationship with your Dad. Sure, you owed him everything and looked up to him, to an extent. You also felt for him, because you knew he’d had a really shitty life. But you’d be lying if you said the two of you were actually close and shared a bond. The people in Detroit felt more like family to you. They were the people you wanted to experience life with, but you didn’t want to cut ties with your Dad. It felt like you wanted to have your cake and eat it too. All these thoughts were going through your mind at once and you couldn’t find rest. Marshall tried to cuddle with you, and even though you thought it was sweet of him to worry, you didn’t really feel like having him all over you. You were feeling numb and lost. And exhausted by all of the emotions you’d been through.

A few hours later, you opened your eyes and were almost startled. You absolutely did not remember falling asleep. Marshall was sitting in bed, next to you, scribbling in his notebook. When he noticed you were awake, he flashed a smile and immediately put his pen down.

Hey beautiful, he said softly.

Morning, you said with a small yawn.

Did you sleep well ? He asked.

Not really, you replied earnestly.

He nodded sympathetically and pulled you in his arms, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. You were grumpy, sad and exhausted, but you had to admit it felt good. He had always been such a comforting presence. He was gently stroking your hair, holding you as your head was pressed against his chest. You were almost tempted to fall back asleep, his contact and heartbeat soothing you. He seemed to understand it and laid down before putting the cover on top of the two of you.

You can sleep, my love, he whispered.

Can I be asleep forever ? You asked sheepishly.

Don’t say that, Y/N, he said in a sad voice.

You shrugged and burrowed your face in his neck. He was holding you tight, one hand slipping under your top to stroke the skin on your lower back. You did the same and slipped a hand under his tee-shirt to place it on his chest. The contact made him smile. Your skin against his, nestled under the covers, you felt safe and you couldn’t help but wish that you’d never have to get out of this bed. As long as you were in the hotel room, you could ignore reality and the outside world, and maybe pretend like everything was ok.

Marshall ? You whispered.

Yes baby ?

You know I love you, right ? You asked nervously.

I know, he said. And I hope you know I love you too. I love you so much, Y/N.

He cupped your face and traced your bottom lip with his thumb before kissing you softly. You laid there, in comfortable silence and you started to close your eyes, trying to relax and focus on the good part : you were lucky enough to have an amazing and supportive boyfriend who looked out for you and took care of you. He really was your safe place. Regardless of where you were, you felt at home when you were by his side. All you needed to feel good was him, his touch, his scent. You had never, ever been so in love with anyone and the perspective of him leaving for Michigan and you staying in Paris was breaking your heart. You dozed off in his arms for a minute before being woken up by your phone buzzing. You let out a small groan and buried your face in Marshall’s chest.

You should answer, baby, he said softly.

Mmmh. No, you said. No phone. Cuddles.

Come on, it might be important, he said. You can’t spend the day wallowing.

I don’t care, you shrugged. And I can wallow all day. And I will.

Just pick up the phone, Y/N, he said firmly.

You sighed and, even though you really wanted to comment on the irony, you didn’t. Usually, it was the other way around : he was the one advocating for a no phone policy whenever you were together and you usually had to force him to answer calls. If he had it his way, he wouldn’t take any calls, save for his daughters. You glanced at the phone and saw Talia’s name on the screen. Marshall kissed your forehead and left the room as you picked up.

You had a long, much-needed conversation with your best friend. She couldn’t have called at a better time. You told her everything about what happened with your father and the dilemma you were now facing. She lent a sympathetic ear and let you vent as much as you needed to, about your Dad but also about Marshall. You were a little mad at him for reacting so violently, even though you understood where he was coming from and that he was only looking out for you - as he always was. When you asked her what she thought you should do, she seemed in agreement with Marshall, with a softer way to put things. She basically told you to prioritize your projects and your wellbeing and to believe in yourself and your decisions. However, she also encouraged you to patch things up with your Dad and try to talk to him. After all, he was your father. After you hung up the phone, you started getting dressed. Talia had done a good job hyping you up and you knew it was a “now or never” situation : if you didn’t muster the courage now, you would probably be tempted to weasel your way out of it. Once you were ready, you joined Marshall in the living room.

I’m going to my Dad’s, you said. I need to sort things out with him.

Are you sure ? He asked with his eyebrows furrowed. Do you want me to come with you ?

I’d rather not, if you don’t mind, you said. I think it’ll make the talking easier if the man who punched him last night isn’t in the room…

Right, he groaned. I’ll ask one of the security guys to escort you.

No need, you said. I’ll go on my own and take the metro. It’s a short trip anyway.

That wasn’t a question, he said.

I didn’t ask either, you pointed out sternly. He is my father, and I’m dealing with him on my own terms, Marshall.

He looked at you intently, slightly pursing his lips. His blue eyes were staring into yours and you held his gaze for a moment, intent on showing him that you were going to stand your ground. He ended up sighing, making you promise that you’d call him if anything went wrong. The whole trip to your Dad’s apartment was stressful and, the closer you got to the place, the more tempted to duck you were. It was in moments like these that you wished you could get a drink, just a small one. Courage and bravery had never really been your forte. When you got there, he was cold and distant and, as you could have expected it, he did not plan on apologizing. You told him you had decided to go through with your move to Michigan and that, even though he might not approve of Marshall, you were in love with him and positive that you would get better professional opportunities in the US. You also stated that you were sorry for the way dinner went down last night and hoped that you would be able to stay in touch.

I warned you last night, he simply said. The minute you step on that plane, you can forget about me.

Dad, I love you but I need to do this, you pleaded. And I need you to believe in me. As my Dad.

You are sorely mistaken if you think I’m going to support my daughter throwing her life away, he simply said. You have to make a choice : it is either him or me, your father.

I’m sorry, Dad, you whispered on the verge of tears. But I have to do this.

Talia was right : you needed to stand up for yourself, no matter how hard it was. You went to your bedroom and started packing a small suitcase. You were supposed to have more time to prepare, but seeing how the situation turned out, it was clearly impossible. You took the bare minimum : the clothes that meant the most to you, your childhood plushy toy, a photo album, your computer, Marshall’s disc player and headphones. You wished you could have taken all of your books with you, or at least arranged to get them sent to you in Michigan, but it was clear that your father wasn’t going to be of any help, and you had no time, since Marshall was flying back the next night. When you were done packing, right before leaving, you tried your chance with your Dad one last time.

I really don’t want to leave on bad terms with you, you said.

You better hope that man provides for you, he coldly stated. Don’t think about calling me when he’s replaced you with another potiche and you need money to fly back.

He said that without so much as looking at you. You were heartbroken, and a bit angry, too. You had always tried to make him proud and you wished he would support your decision, believe in you and root for you to be happy. You weren’t asking for his blessing regarding your relationship with Marshall, only for him to wish you well while you tried to live your own life. Granted, you didn’t know anything about raising children and, knowing Marshall’s stance, you never would, but you didn’t understand how a parent could possibly do that to their child. You mumbled “Goodbye, Dad, I love you”, but he didn’t answer so you left, leaving your key inside of the apartment. You wouldn’t need it anymore after all. When you exited the building, reality hit you : you were in the streets, with your tiny suitcase and no family anymore. It was the hardest thing you ever had to do, harder even than breaking up with Marshall in the first place. You couldn’t help but burst into tears on the sidewalk. In a fictional world, a nice old lady would have asked if you were ok, you would have cried on her shoulder and she would have fixed everything with a magic wand, revealing that she was actually your fairy godmother. But it was reality and you were in Paris : the only people who walked past you sighed and shoved you more or less accidentally, without so much as a look for you. You decided to walk back to the hotel, to clear your mind. It occurred to you that it was the last time you would call this city your home. You decided to head to your favorite café one last time, and have hot chocolate. You sat at a terrace and watched the busy streets, full of tourists and parisians. After, you took a small diversion and walked along the Seine, taking in the city for the last time. When you got back to the hotel, it was nighttime and it occurred to you that you might have been gone longer than expected. When you got back to your suite, you were greeted by an angry boyfriend.

Do you know what time it is ?! He practically screamed at you.

In truth, you had no idea what time it was. You were so sad that it hadn’t even occurred to you to check your phone - or your watch. It was almost as if you’d been on autopilot mode and you weren’t sure how long you had been gone for.

Sorry, you said. I lost track of time, I guess.

You guess ?! He yelled. You were gone for almost EIGHT FUCKING HOURS. You weren’t even picking up the phone !

I’m here, you said sheepishly. I’m back now.

You took a good look at him. He had worry all over his face and his hair, however short, looked messy. He walked up to you and, as he got closer, you saw that his eyes were red, as if he had cried.

Did you cry ? You asked.

I… I thought you had fucking left me, he said.

I’m here, you said softly as you took his hand. I didn’t leave. And if I had, I would have taken my suitcase with me, don’t you think ?

Well I didn’t think that far, he sighed. It’s just…You weren’t picking up the phone, and you were gone for so long, I thought… He had convinced you or whatever. Or worse, that he had hit you. I was about to call the cops, I…

His emotions seemed all over the place. He engulfed you in a hug and you held each other for what seemed like a long time. You took in his scent and pressed a kiss on his neck, prompting him to tighten his embrace around you. After a minute, he looked at you.

So… Are you alright ? He finally asked.

It’s hard, you said. But I stood up for myself.

You did ?! He asked. Wait, does it mean that you’ll move back ?

Yes, you said. I packed my suitcase. Is it ok if I fly with you tomorrow night ?

He didn’t say anything. Instead, he kissed you passionately, almost making you lose your balance. His reaction brought a smile to your face for the first time in hours : he was making you feel so loved, so wanted. You could feel him smile into the kiss as he placed a strand of hair behind your shoulder. He was absolutely irresistible.

Of course it’s ok, he whispered. I’m so proud of you, babygirl.

Thanks, you whispered back.

Is it all you have packed ? He asked with a raised eyebrow as he glanced at your suitcase.

Well, yeah, you said sheepishly. I sort of grabbed what I could. So I have that suitcase and the other one I had for our holiday. That’s not much but it’ll have to do.

Don’t worry about it, he said before kissing your forehead. Anything you need, we’ll get it, ok ? Whether it’s clothes, shoes, anything…

I doubt you can replace my books, you shrugged.

I’ll try my best, he said with a smile. Anything for you, my love. It’s my duty to take care and provide for you, now and I take that with the utmost seriousness.

What are my duties, then ? You giggled.

Why, walk in your underwear and blow me twice a day, obviously, he chuckled.

You pretended to be miffed and started to walk away but he grabbed you and brought you closer to him. His face had gotten softer and he couldn’t refrain from smiling. Seeing how happy the news made him had you melting. When you stared into his big blue eyes and looked at his smile, the decision you had made was obvious : how could you be expected to stay away from this man ? You were still heartbroken, but when you looked at Marshall, you wanted to believe it would be worth it or at least that everything would be fine in the end. You spent the night cuddling and he wouldn’t stop telling you how great it would be to live together. The next day, you packed and finally got in the car to go to the airport. You looked through the car window and stared at the streets of Paris for what you knew would be the last time in a while : the Haussmannian architecture, the Eiffel Tower, the streets… You had only been back for six months but it was bittersweet. It was the place where you had grown up, raised by your father… But now that he wouldn’t acknowledge you anymore, it would never feel the same again. Marshall felt you tense up and gently squeezed your thigh. You were sure of your decision but feeling a bit nervous nonetheless and the feeling remained until the plane took off. You wouldn’t stop looking through the window, looking as you got higher and higher. You had been silent the whole day, keeping to yourself and Marshall was respectful of your need for space and quiet, knowing you needed to regroup. However, after a couple hours of flying, he grabbed your hand and led you to the back of the plane.

Where are you taking me ? You asked.

Bedroom, he said with an enigmatic smile.

You have a bedroom on your plane ? You asked.

First of all, not my plane, he chuckled. But yeah, I asked for one with a bedroom because we’ll be flying for a while.

He kissed you and opened the door. It was a small but cozy bedroom with a big bed, a TV, a small desk… Everything one could ask for during a nine hour flight. You saw a bouquet of peonies on the desk, immediately making you smile. Marshall knew how much you liked these small attentions.

Thank you, you said as you kissed him. They’re gorgeous. You didn’t have to.

I wanted to, he said. I have something else for you.

He made you sit on the bed and grabbed a box from the nightstand before kissing you. He gave you the red box he was holding, letting you open it and revealing a gorgeous Love bracelet from Cartier, in rose gold, assorted to the watch he had gifted you with whe you got your PhD.

I just want you to know that I am in love with you, and I know how much you are giving up to be with me, he said. I can’t tell you it will be worth it because God knows I am not worthy of you, but I’d like for this bracelet to symbolize the promise I want to make to you. I promise that I will care for you, cater to your needs and give you the life you deserve. I don’t want to be your boyfriend, I want to be your man, best friend and your family, too. So, Y/N, will you be my lady in a completely committed kind of way ?

Yes, you said as you were overcome with emotion. Of course.

He smiled and kissed you tenderly before helping you put the bracelet on, using a designated screwdriver. Not only was it a beautiful piece of jewelry, but it also really symbolized commitment, as you would literally be unable to take it off without his help. You noticed he was wearing a ring similar to your bracelet on the middle finger of his left hand, only in yellow gold.

You got a matching ring ?! You asked.

I did, he said with a smile. As a reminder of my commitment to the most beautiful lady I have ever met.

When did you get it ? How am I only seeing it now ? You didn’t even leave the hotel room while we were in Paris !

Don’t underestimate my ability to make things happen without going out, he chuckled.

I love you, you said. Thank you. It’s too much but it’s amazing.

Anything for you, princess, he said before kissing you. I take it that you like the bracelet ?

Of course, you said. It’s beautiful.

Doesn’t compare to you, he shrugged.

You kissed him passionately, determined to show him how grateful you were and just how much you loved him. He kissed fervently kissed you back, cupping your face as you wrapped your arms around his neck. When you broke the kiss, you took a second to admire the bracelet once again.

I’m glad you like it, he said with a smile.

I love it, you corrected. I thik there’s a problem, though…

Really ? Which one ?

It is so gorgeous I think it’s an insult to wear anything else, you said with a grin. I should probably take off my clothes…

You know, if you take off your clothes every time I give you jewelry, you’re going to end up decked in gold, he said with a smirk.

Oh really ? You asked playfully. Then what happens if I ask you to make me an official member of the mile high club ?

Let’s find out, he said before kissing you bruisingly.

Author's Note : Happy "Em is dropping an album this year" day to all of you ❤️. I hope you are all doing well and that you enjoyed this chapter ! Thank you to everyone who comments & drops in the Ask section. I don't have time to reply to all messages but I see and appreciate everyone ❤️. Also, I am definitely missing some of y'all... 👀 (🥝 and 🛐, it's been a while, I hope you're alright - you might have forgotten about me but I haven't).

Love,

Coco ❤️

#eminem #marshall mathers #slim shady #eminem fanfiction #eminem x reader #recovery fanfiction #eminem imagine #eminem fluff #marshall mathers x reader #marshall mathers imagine

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endlesslystarlitskies · 1 year

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Lost and Found- Part 6

A/N: Okay, so I’m so excited for this that I am putting out two chapters in one day! I’ve got quite a few written out already so I thought why not! Hopefully you guys are still enjoying the story, and please let me know what you think!

By the way, I did give her an age. It’ll be the only characteristic I’ll give her but I had to so that there is no way to assume an inappropriate age gap, so I hope everyone is okay with that. Thank you!

Genre: Horror, action, adventure, Romance, Slow-Burn,

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x Named Reader (Named but not Described)

Summary: Ella was one of the missing hikers who was kidnapped by the villagers. She narrowly escaped being sacrificed, but her friends weren’t so lucky. Managing to survive out in the woods with her previous skills and knowledge, she runs into Leon, and that meeting begins the longest, most dangerous adventure of her life as she tries to help him save the girl she saw being taken into the church. What will happen along the way? Only one way to find out.

Warnings: Canon typical violence and gore, Death, Murder, Monsters, Suicidal ideations mentioned, Ella has little regard for her own life and is dealing with the loss of someone closest to her while also fighting to survive with waning self-preservation instincts. Please be cautious if that triggers you. Her suicidal tendencies are also explicitly mentioned in this chapter, so please be aware of that!

Word Count: 5,065

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 7

Story Masterlist

xXx

They had attempted to stealthily get by the villagers, but unfortunately one had walked through the gate just as they moved into sight, and now they were facing off against the horde, Ashley sticking behind them and avoiding the enemies around them as much as she could.

Ella had to switch to her shotgun so she could take out multiple enemies at a time, trying her best to keep her eye on Ashley as well as fight off the villagers.

“Get behind me!” Ella told her as Leon had been distracted by one of those swinging parasites and a horde was coming up on them. Ashley did as she was told, and Ella finished reloading her shotgun, before taking aim and hitting three of them at once with every shot. What the shotgun didn’t finish off, she took care of with her knife, like Leon had taught her. That took out the ones blocking her way, and she held out her hand for Ashley to take before she guided them down the path. Leon had said there was an extraction point to the North, so she knew where they needed to go.

“What about Leon?!” Ashley asked in a panic.

“Don’t worry, he’ll be right behind us! The best thing we can do is get out of his way!” She assured her, now using her handgun to take out the ones that chased after them or the few stragglers still coming up to the church in their path. They got to the edge of the graveyard, seemingly out of the worst of it, and Ella turned, watching as Leon threw a flash grenade, before using his shotgun to mow down the villagers surrounding him. Finally taking care of them, he was down to one, and he did his signature kick to the already injured villager, finishing him off.

Ella let out a breath of relief, as that had been intense and even though she had full confidence in Leon, she still worried about him.

“See? Nothing to worry about.” She shot Ashley a smile, who seemed relieved herself as she gave her a nod.

“You guys okay?” Leon asked as he made it to them, looking over them both for any visible injuries.

“I think so. Ashley?” Ella turned to her. She was mainly checking on her mental health, but Ashley seemed relatively okay. She was obviously shaken up, but other than that, she was holding it together just fine.

“Yeah, I’m good. Thanks.” She spoke to the both of them, giving them a smile.

“Don’t mention it. Like I said before, here to help.” Ella chuckled, before the three of them continued their way down the path. Ella looked to Leon when she felt his eyes on her, seeing the appreciative look in them, and she waved him off. She meant it when she said she wanted to help Ashley, and it was honestly the least she could do for them considering. xXx To Ella’s delight, they came across the purple flame, her expression lighting up as her pace quickened, making it under the little shelter beside the worship building from before to see the Merchant standing at the table. “Hello again strangers! I see you’ve added a new friend to the party!” The grin was obvious in his voice, and Ella smiled at him, looking at Ashley who was giving the man a suspicious look. “Don’t worry, he’s friendly.” Ella assured him, the blonde looking at Leon, who nodded in agreement, which helped Ashley relax more. With that, Leon and Ella freshened up their supplies, Ashley looking around the Merchants table curiously. “So where do you get all this stuff? And how do you get around?” Ella found herself chuckling lightly as Ashley started up the same questions Ella had asked. Ella and Leon stood back as Ashley talked to the Merchant, the man giving her the same answers he had given Ella when she asked. Unlike her, however, Ashley wasn’t letting it slide so easily. Ella smiled as she watched the scene, before her mind flashed back to what she had overheard between Leon and his contact. “Hey, you know I don’t expect you to ever put me above your mission, right?” She spoke in a low voice to where only Leon could hear her. “What?” Or maybe not. Well, when she looked at him, she could tell by his expression that the problem wasn’t that he hadn’t heard her. “I don’t expect you to put me above the mission, at any point. And I don’t want you to either.” She repeated more clearly. “Getting Ashley home comes first. I had always known that when I tagged along, even before I met her.” Seeing Ashley the first time- seeing how terrified and out of her element she was- had immediately reminded Ella of Alice. Add to that how young Ashley was, and all Ella wanted to do was make sure she got home safe. Her resolve to end this didn’t leave her, but the anger faded. As much as she wanted to get revenge for Alice, Ashley was still alive. Ashley needed to get home. There was nothing Ella could do for Alice except do for Ashley what she had been unable to do for her best friend. Ella wasn’t one for revenge anyway. “Hey, we’re all getting out of this, alright?” Ella snapped out of her thoughts, looking at Leon and noticing his hard gaze. She sighed. “Yeah sure.” She said dismissively, missing the way Leon’s frown deepened. “I’m not trying to argue with you Leon. I’m just saying that if it comes down to it, I won’t be upset that you prioritize Ashley, because she deserves to get back home.” Okay, maybe not her best wording. “And you don’t?” He shot back, and Ella could honestly pull her hair out as her frustration grew. “Oh my god, will you just-” “No, stop. Cut it out with this self-sacrificial, suicidal schtick you got going on, because I’m getting tired of it. If you wanted to die, then you wouldn’t have fought to survive in those woods for four days straight. You wouldn’t be here right now.” Ella had not expected that, her eyes widening in shock as she looked at him. “We will all make it out of here, got that?” He hadn’t raised his voice, but it held no room for argument. However, Ella was nothing if not hardheaded, and she felt defensive at him calling out her reckless behavior, anger rising in her throat. “Fuck you, Leon. You don’t know me! You have no idea what I’m going through, or what losing Alice did to me! I’m a grown woman, and if I want to die, then I’ll do that, whether you like it or not. So, take your heroic bullshit attitude, shove it up your ass, and focus on your damn job!” She growled, before turning and walking into the building, refusing to argue with him any longer. She hadn’t realized Ashley and the Merchant had caught on to their argument, but how could they not?

Ashley held a look of concern as she watched Ella walk off and disappear, before looking at Leon, whose jaw was tight with anger as he took a deep breath through his nose. He turned, noticing Ashley’s look. “Come on, we should get going.” He told her, clearly not wanting to talk about it Ashley was quiet a moment, before she nodded, saying goodbye to the Merchant and following Leon into the building. xXx Ella walked ahead of the two, the stiff posture she held showing she was still upset. Leon wasn’t looking any better, and the two were very obviously ignoring each other, and Ashley didn’t know what to do or say.

The tense quiet air was getting to her though, and she picked up her pace so she could walk alongside Ella.

“Hey.” She greeted cautiously, not wanting to upset the girl more. However, the frown Ella had been wearing softened as she looked at Ashley, which helped the young girl relax a bit.

“Hey, what’s up?” She hummed in a gentle voice, which was a contrast to the way she had been acting since leaving the merchant. Ella’s anger wasn’t with Ashley, and she wouldn’t take it out on her, or pull the poor girl into her problems.

“Can I ask you something kind of personal?” Ella paused, worried Ashley was going to ask her about what happened with Leon back there. She did not want to talk about it. If she did, she might realize how unfairly she treated him, and she wasn’t ready to accept that what he had said was the truth just yet.

“Um, sure. Shoot.” She supposed if Ashley had heard them, then it was only natural for her to worry and wonder what happened. The least she could do was offer some sort of explanation.

“Who’s Alice?” Ella had not been expecting that, however, her steps faltering lightly, though she was quick to mask her emotions. Not quick enough, apparently, as Ashley gave her an empathetic look.

Ella took a few moments, willing the tightness in her chest to dissipate as she contemplated whether or not she should answer. She looked over at Ashley, seeing the curiosity and concern in her brown eyes, before she sighed.

“She, uh, was my best friend. Practically my sister.” She started in a quiet voice, forcing the emotions down to a manageable intensity as she swallowed the lump in her throat. “We grew up together, went to college together, and then lived together in our own little apartment.” The memories of Alice flashed through her mind as she spoke, and surprisingly, the weight in her chest dissipated just a bit. “She was a mess, honestly.” She laughed softly. “An adventurous fun-loving daredevil. I was the stick in the mud that was always making sure she didn’t get into trouble.” Alice was almost two years younger than Ella, but she was very smart, and moved up a couple of grades in school. She had had a lot of pressure and responsibility put on her to be perfect at a young age, so when she was out of her home, she didn’t let anything hold her back from living her life for herself, which Ella had always admired about her, and supported.

As Ella thought about how excited Alice had been to go on this hiking trip, her heart dropped once more, her smile fading.

“She wanted to come on this hiking trip. . .we really didn’t have the money for it, but she desperately wanted a break from everything back home, and she loved nature. But then. . .we were taken-” Ella stopped when Ashley gently took her arm, looking at her in slight confusion.

“That’s okay.” Ashley told her with a shake of her head, not wanting Ella to get into that. “Just remember her from before. When you think of her, remember what made you smile just a second ago.” Ella’s felt as though the breath had been stolen from her lungs. She hadn’t realized that every time she thought of Alice, all she thought about was her lying on the stone altar, the fear permanently etched into her expression. It was only when Ashley asked about her, that Ella actually thought of Alice, her best friend, and not Alice, the sacrifice.

Ella allowed the emotions to well in her chest, thinking about her fondest memories with Alice for just a couple of moments as the weight lifted a little more.

Tears didn’t come to her eyes, and it didn’t feel like she was being suffocated by the memories. It felt. . .freeing. It wasn’t a cure to her depression and trauma by any means, but for now, Ella could remember Alice as she was before to help keep everything at bay.

How did a 19 or 20 year old help her regulate her trauma better than she could have? Ella came back to earth as she focused on Ashley, who was giving her a kind smile, and she felt herself return it.

“Okay, not bad kid.” She chuckled, pulling her into a side hug as they walked.

Ashley gave her a mock offended look, but returned the hug nonetheless.

“Kid?! I’m 20 years old! Aren’t you like 24?” She argued, and Ella laughed.

“25, and trust me, when you’re my age, anyone over 2 or 3 years younger than you are practically toddlers.” She grinned, and Ashley scoffed, rolling her eyes, but there was a smile tugging at the edges of her lips.

“Whatever.” She jokingly pushed her off, making Ella laugh, Ashley joining her after a few moments.

It was a nice break from the terrifying and dangerous situation they were in.

Ashley had looked back to Leon, realizing he had probably been listening in when she saw him watching them with the tiniest smile. xXx Of course their break couldn’t last forever, and soon they were running into a cabin where the man from the factory was ushering them in for shelter against the horde of villagers coming after them, Leon closing and locking the gate to buy them some time. Getting inside, the three were panting lightly as they tried to catch their breaths, though Leon turned a glare on the man.

“You.” His tone was almost accusatory, and the man began to back up as Leon moved towards him.

“Hey! Listen, about earlier. . .” He tried, attempting to diffuse the situation, but Leon wasn’t having it.

“Yeah, about that.” Ella had no idea what happened between them in the factory, but whatever it was had Leon pissed as he backed the man into the wall, pressing a fist to his chest and holding him there. “Hey, I see you found your missing Senorita!” His voice was cheery and positive, but Ashley just glared at him, the words having the opposite effect of what he had wanted. “The “senorita” has a name, and it’s Ashley.” She pointed out, the brunette haired man looking at Ella with raised brows. “See, she gave me her name.” Ella rolled her eyes at that, though she did find it a little funny that he was referencing that at a time like this, and she had to hold back the amused smile. The man must have seen that as he opened his mouth to comment, but Leon pressed his fist harder against his chest, making him wince and cutting off whatever he was going to say. “And you are?” Ashley brought the focus back. Ella was curious about that too, their previous meeting being very brief. Who was he, and what was he doing on here? He wasn’t dressed like a villager, but he was Spanish, so it could go either way she supposed. “Names Luis. Encantado.” He smirked, giving a small nod of greeting and shooting Ella a wink. Ella scoffed lightly, but this time she couldn’t hide her amusement. She thought he was funny, and even charming, his attitude helping bring a lighter atmosphere. It was a nice change from Leon’s attitude, and she wished they could bring Luis with them.

“Great. We all have names, now then-” “Well not all of us.” Luis spoke matter-of-factly, once again looking at Ella, but Leon didn’t let him change the subject, somehow seeming more annoyed than before. “Who are you? And what are you doing here?” He demanded, but it was clear Luis had no intention of answering him. “Very good questions. Unfortunately-” He gestured to the window, and the three looked out to see the torches getting closer.

“Hide, now!” Leon told Ashley, giving Ella a look that Ella knew was him asking her to go with her and make sure she was safe. Ella nodded, taking Ashley’s hand and pulling her up the stairs. Pissed at him or not, she wouldn’t let it get in the way of her goal of saving Ashely, and she knew Leon wouldn’t let it either. Getting to the top floor, Ella found a spot right outside the window, there being a cabinet Ashley could easily fit inside, and she helped Ashley into it, making sure the doors closed properly. They could hear the gunshots and fighting downstairs, and Ella tried to move quickly so she could go and help too. She wouldn’t stray too far from where Ashley would be hiding, but she could be helpful to the two downstairs as well. Once Ashley was well hidden, she moved to the stairs, taking in the mess that was going on below. Pulling out her gun, she shot a villager who was coming up behind a distracted Leon, who looked behind him, and then to her, giving her a quick nod of thanks before he focused back on the villagers already inside the house. Ella took care of the window in front of the stairs, doing her best to keep the ones outside it from getting inside. However, no matter how many of them they took down, they just kept coming. “Let’s go upstairs, come on!” Luis shouted, and Ella backed up that way as Leon and Luis ran over. Getting further onto the top floor, she was surprised to see another villager already up there, before quickly realizing they must have found a way to get to the second story window, letting out a curse. Ella tried to stay by the window Ashley was behind as much as she could, but the massive wave of villagers made that very difficult. Fortunately, she didn’t think they knew where she was, so at least there was that. The three had been distracted by the villagers coming through the windows, none of them noticing the large boar man with a hammer stomping up the stairs. That was until Ella caught a glimpse of the hammer swinging towards Luis’ head in her peripheral, and she gasped, reacting as quickly as she could as she tackled the Spanish man to the ground, both barely dodging the weapon. Leon moved quickly, firing three shots to the thing’s head and taking care of him quickly. Ella looked at Luis to make sure he was okay, only to find that he was smirking at her, his eyes shining with gratitude. “Okay, now you have to tell me your name.” Luis had been firing off quips left and right this whole time, and Ella didn’t know how he did it. She knew she also quipped and joked as much as she could, but Luis was on a whole other level. “Now’s really not the time.” She pointed out despite the grin pulling at her lips, the disbelief and amusement apparent in her tone as she got to her feet, taking care of a villager who was coming up on their right while Luis stood up himself. “All I heard is that you will tell me eventually.” She had no idea how this guy could flirt during a time like this, but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t enjoying having him around. She was usually the one joking and trying to keep the gloomy atmosphere and fear of the situation from getting to them, and it was nice to share the load. “If you two are done, there’s more coming.” Leon snapped as he pulled the knife out of the now dead man’s chest, and Ella rolled her eyes, but didn’t respond as she focused on the four villagers coming up the stairs. It was maybe three minutes of fighting off the seemingly never ending influx of infected when Ashley came through the door, offering them a way out. “You guys, this way! Hurry!” She shouted, the three of them looking to her and not wasting another second as they followed her out the door and over the wooden platform. It was just in time too, as numerous villagers came through the windows and up the stairs.

Ella couldn’t help but wonder how many people this village even had, as it didn’t matter how many they took out-There were plenty more to replace them

Fortunately, they passed a gate, and Leon turned, shooting the mechanism holding it open just as a villager almost passed through, the spikes slamming down onto his head and crushing it.

Ella winced as blood and brain matter splattered across the wood, having to look away even after everything they had seen this far. The group took a minute to catch their breaths, Ella leaning against the wood and resting her head back for a few moments.

Coughing broke through the silence, however, and Ella turned to watch as Ashley spit up blood into her hand. Ella was immediately reminded of Leon out on the lake, and she knew this was a result of the infection.

“Ashley-” Leon stepped forward; his expression full of concern that mirrored Ella’s. “Wh-What’s happening to me?” The fear in Ashley’s voice broke Ella’s heart, and before she could answer, Luis stepped forward. “Ashley,” He took her hand. “Is this the first time you coughed up blood like this?” He asked her, the way he said the words making it clear he knew about the parasites and the infection. Maybe even more than Ella or Leon, though it wasn’t hard to know more than them on this subject. Anything he could add would be helpful. “Do you want to start explaining?” Leon gave him a hard look, and Luis took a step back. Ella wondered why Leon clearly had something against Luis. She had seen it back in the house, it being behind his eyes when he looked at him. “The cough- the blood- it’s caused by something called a...”plaga”.” The three looked at each other, before back at Luis expectantly waiting for him to continue. It was nice to have a name for the parasite, though that didn’t give them much more information.

“Ok. You saw those “people”, right? Well, you have the same thing inside you. The same thing that made them like that.” That much was a given. “This, what you’re experiencing, these symptoms- they’re only the beginning.” He sighed as he turned, Ashley looking fearfully at Ella.

“I don’t want to become like them.” Ella put a hand to her shoulder, trying to comfort her though there wasn’t much she could do or say. They had no idea how to get rid of the parasites. They didn’t even know where they were in the body. “You are, well, lucky.” Luis started, Ella looking at him with furrowed brows. How could any of this be lucky? “You see, at this early stage, the parasite, the “plaga”, It is possible to remove it. . .With a surgical procedure.” Ella’s brief moment of hope dissipated. How were they supposed to perform a surgical procedure in a place like this?! “And all you need is some knowhow.” She sighed. She had no idea how they would learn how to perform a surgical procedure in the current situation they were in. “And oh yeah-” He turned, pulling the buttons of his shirt apart and revealing a scar on his chest. “The right equipment.” Ella quickly realized he had been infected too, and that did bring a bit of hope back. They knew the procedure worked, and they had someone who knew how to do it. “Wait, you too?” Leon asked, coming to the same conclusion Ella had. “No worries. See, I have a plan.” He started walking away from them, and Ella almost opened her mouth to ask where he was going, but he continued before she could. “But you’re going to have to trust me.” It was a simple request, but Ella wasn’t so sure it would be that easy. She didn’t know why, but she felt as though Luis had an ulterior motive.

Then again, didn’t everyone? She and Leon shared a look, Ella and Ashley both shrugging. They didn’t really have a choice if they wanted to remove the parasites. Leon looked back at Luis, before nodding, and the shaggy haired man smiled, happy with that answer. “Great, we’re partners then!” He said happily as he began walking away. Ella wished he would travel with them, but Luis was clearly intent on going on his own. Ella knew that it probably meant he didn’t want them knowing something else, but the fact didn’t change anything, so she kept it to herself.

“Wait, why are you-”

“No time for any questions, the clock is ticking.” He waved off, clearly avoiding something, but Leon didn’t let him. “Why are you helping us?” He demanded, and that made Luis stop for a moment as he contemplated his answer. It was a good question. People didn’t usually help out of the goodness of their hearts, unfortunately. Even so, however, Ella doubted they wouldn’t get a straight answer from him.

“Because it makes me feel better. Let’s leave it at that.” That would be the best answer they would get. “I will contact you later.” He held up a walkie, before disappearing behind the rocks. Ella was quiet a moment as she went over their interactions in her mind, trying to decide whether or not trusting him would be a mistake.

She didn’t think it would be. xXx

“What do you mean the helicopter can’t make it?” Ella sighed, wondering why nothing could ever go right in this place. “The weather’s too bad. We’ll have to wait it out.” Leon answered, and she could hear the disappointment and annoyance in his voice as well, letting it go since she knew there was no thing that could be done about it. “Figures.” She murmured, cursing their bad luck. They walked the trail ahead, and Ella looked up to the sky, wondering if she could wish the bad weather away if she tried hard enough. “What’s. . .What’s going to happen to me.” Ella was brought from her thoughts as she looked at Ashley, frowning lightly and opening her mouth to offer some words of comfort. “Right now, let’s just focus on getting out of here.” Leon spoke first, and Ella wanted to throw something at him. She didn’t understand how he could have such little awareness. She knew he wasn’t emotionally available, but he could at least try and be a little more comforting to Ashley. “Yeah. . .right.” Ashley murmured, and Ella gently put her hand on her arm comfortingly, hoping to quell her fears at least for a little while. “Hey, it’s going to be okay. We’ll figure it out, I promise.” Ella knew better than to promise things she didn’t know if she could deliver, but at the same time, she was determined to do whatever she could to make sure Ashley made it out of this. And comforting wasn’t always about being honest, anyway. Ashley gave her a small but appreciative smile, before nodding lightly. Ella wished she could do more, but that would have to do.

Soon, they were greeted by the purple flame, and Ella really needed to remember to thank the Merchant for always being there when they needed him. After doing their usual sales, they reloaded their weapons and found the proper places for the ammo as Ashley stood by the Merchant’s table. “They’ve still not made up eh?” The Merchant murmured to the girl, gesturing to how Ella and Leon were a few feet apart and intently focused on their weapons. Ashley shrugged. “I don’t know, honestly. They’re weird. They are. . .amicable I guess, but neither one of them wants to just get over themselves. It makes for tense walks, that’s for sure.” She sighed, and the Merchant laughed. “Ah give ‘em a minute. They’ll be back to bantering in no time.” He sounded sure of it, so Ashley could do nothing but hope he was right. She hadn’t really gotten much of a chance to see them not mad at each other after all. xXx

When they found a note that mentioned an impregnable fortress, Ella knew they were in for a headache, and she seriously considered going back to the Merchant and falling asleep in the little shelter. She didn’t know why, but no villager ever seemed to wander into his areas. It was strange, but maybe it was just a coincidence. Either way, she was sure it’d be safe. Unfortunately, they must move forward. Even though they now had no set destination and were only just looking for a safe place to wait for extraction. Ella would have brought this up to Leon if she thought it would get her anywhere. And if she was in the mood to talk to him, which she wasn’t. She knew her stubbornness was a flaw of hers, but it was more than that.

Apologizing to Leon meant admitting she was wrong, and he was right. And him being right meant fully coming to terms with what had happened, and what it all meant for her life. It was a journey of self discovery she wasn’t quite ready for, so she kept her mouth shut and left the tense atmosphere in place. Leon didn’t seem too keen on dissipating it either, after all.

Getting to the first section of the impregnable fortress, the three did their best to stealthily get by, but the villagers were vigilant, and it wasn’t long before they were shooting and stabbing their way out. Ella couldn’t complain too much, because at this point, at least it was familiar territory. The second section wasn’t too bad, except at one point Leon and Ella both could have sworn they saw the glint of a gold necklace, but it was for a split second, the two forced to focus on the villagers in front of them.

Afterwards, with it nowhere in sight, the two convinced themselves they must have imagined it, neither bringing it up.

Getting to what was hopefully the last section, they came across a gate that was missing a lever, and they were made to look around and search for it. Fortunately, and for some strange reason, there weren’t many villagers around, but Leon had to go and mention how quiet it was, Ella almost strangling him right then and there.

It was as if being a cliche video game character was ingrained into his very being, and no matter how many times Ella pointed it out and was proven right, he just couldn’t help himself but foreshadow the impending headache they were sure to face.

Despite her annoyance with his habit, she didn’t say anything, instead seething silently behind him before just letting it go and praying that for once, she was wrong.

Entering one of the larger wooden buildings, Ella let Ashley and Leon jump down first as usual, preparing to follow behind them. However, before she could, arms grabbed at her from behind, effectively immobilizing her, and she couldn’t even make a sound before her vision went black.

#Leon Kennedy x reader #Leon Kennedy x OC #Leon Kennedy #Leon Kennedy Fanfiction #Leon S. Kennedy #Resident Evil #Resident Evil 4 #Resident Evil 4 Remake #Lost and Found

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j0kers-light · 2 years

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His Lighthouse: Three Steps Back? (LedgerJoker x f!reader)

Three Steps Back?

series summary:

Y/n is an aspiring writer living in Gotham City and struggling to find her next muse. Her recent novel is getting all the buzz, earning her far more attention than she signed up for. But when a chance encounter results in her nursing The Joker back to health, will she find the time to write another best seller or will her own story become front page of the Gotham Gazette?

chapter summary:

Things are tense between Y/n and Joker but there’s hope for them yet! After a long self reflection session, you realize ignoring Joker isn’t best for your mental health or his. Moving forward to repair the rocky relationship you have with Joker, your worst fears are exposed, threatening all the progress you made so far. Will you take two steps forward or stumble three steps back in this unusual game you’re playing.

Author’s note:

It took forever to get this updated/posted since my carpal tunnel said, “you want to do what?” mild warning: Joker’s tsundere/yandere tendencies are showing up and out in this chapter and the next so be prepared for his wishy washy emotions. Also there is one sentence in this chapter that could be a trigger warning to death but this is Joker we’re talking about here. He’s a walking warning.

Without further ado I hope you enjoy the story! I’m off to write the next chapter!

Last Chapter | Next Chapter

For five awkward days you walked on eggshells around Joker in your own home.

You were unable to come to terms on what almost happened between the two of you, so you decided to pretend that it didn't happen in the first place. After you slammed your bedroom door closed, it took a good half hour to calm your nerves. A thousand questions swarmed you all at once, the most important being; did that seriously almost happen?

Unfortunately, yes it did.

Your fingers grazed your lips in a daze since they didn't feel like your own. Were you having one of those out of body experiences people talked about online? It certainly felt like it. Somehow Joker unplugged your brain from your body with just one touch.

You didn't want to think about how rattled you would have been if he actually kissed you.

If almost kissing him had you this discombobulated, you might've short circuited if he succeeded in his goal. He wouldn't get the chance to try again, you vowed to yourself.

Joker was clever. He wormed himself past your defenses in just a few day's time with minimal effort on his part. He played his cards just right to end up on top of you and dangerously close to locking lips.

When did you lower your guard around him? One minute you were guiding him towards the bed, the next he was making a pass at you. His weight pinning you down was the only thought on your mind and you felt like a fool for listening to his orders and staying put.

Why couldn't he just stay still (like he told you to do) and simply enjoy the moment?

You didn't hit the top light when you entered the room so the moonlight from outside was the only source of light inside the apartment. You were grateful you converted your former office into a spare guest room. No one was allowed in your bedroom and it wasn't very hospitable to keep Joker on your living room sofa and especially for two weeks.

This was the only accommodations you currently had, save for Barbara's room but it felt wrong housing Joker in there.

He was a secret and Barbara was the daughter of a detective. The probability of her finding evidence of Joker being here during her next sleepover was too high to risk. You didn't want to take any chances and chose the room down the hall from yours.

The bed in here wasn't as grand as yours, but it was still luxurious. It did its job and relaxed your bones as you waited on Joker to come to. Without a blood transfusion, he was more prone to dizzy spells until his body produced its own.

He did say he would consider moving off of you but a voice in the back of your mind begged him not to.

You had nowhere else to be. Fat raindrops raced down the windowpane and dark ominous clouds in the sky promised more rain overnight. It was a typical Friday night at your residence since you rarely went out like normal adults your age did. The rough draft on your computer could wait. As painful it was to admit, lying there with Joker was the highlight of your night. You wanted to stay a bit longer, that is, until he went and ruined everything.

Reality came crashing down the minute his hand touched your cheek. It was warm and clammy but it helped ground your senses to look deep into his eyes.

You never cared for the color green until you met Joker.

He made the hue come alive and take on a much deeper meaning. In less than a week, you saw the color in everything.

You couldn't get his eyes out of your head even if someone paid you to. How could something so dark and dangerous be so warm and inviting? Up close you didn't understand why the populace was terrified by his gaze; it was intense and gorgeous in your opinion. You could write essays on what you saw swirling within them.

Since his brief moment of rest, they lost their wild, dizzy haze and now held a hooded and sultry gleam.

You didn't hear Joker call out your name or see the concern flash across his jade orbs. You only registered when he grabbed ahold of your face and felt the scalding puff of air as his lips slowly inched closer to yours.

Those same hands that often ended lives without hesitation now held you with care. If it wasn't Joker, a terrifying, heartless monster in a purple suit, you might have thought the touch to be endearing, however it was anything but. In your mind his advances promised nothing but pain.

'Move, you needed to move!'

Your poor heart was beating so loud you couldn't think straight. The thunderous sound of it echoed out into the room and became your cue to move. You promised yourself to keep Joker at arm's length but that wasn't going as planned.

If it wasn't for your quick thinking, there was no telling what would've happened between you two. In that moment the only objective was removing yourself from the narrative. Find a way to get out and thankfully you did.

You escaped to your safe haven but Joker managed to breach its tranquility with the bold red stain imprinted on your palm.

Just what kind of lipstick did he use? You scrubbed for what seemed like hours until the physical reminder swirled down the drain. Only then did you feel the moment was behind you.

Out of sight out of mind, at least for now. You still had responsibilities as Joker's nurse but you would skirt around those duties to minimize contact with him. It was the only way to keep yourself safe. Whatever sick game Joker was trying to play, could not happen again.

Thank goodness his temporary bedroom was connected to the hallway bath so he could shuffle to and fro with as little energy as possible to relieve himself. If you had to continue ushering him to the bathroom multiple times a day, you would've grown grey hairs but in the same breath, you felt awful for leaving him to his own devices.

It was too soon for him to be moving around on his injured leg. He would get no time to rest and heal and that would prolong the time he needed to stay with you.

It was agreed upon that he would stay for two weeks until his stitches needed to be removed but you knew something would ruin that target date.

If you weren't such a big chicken you could continue nursing Joker back to health and allow him to get as much rest as possible but that risked him being in close contact with you and that was the last thing you wanted right now.

It wasn't the best idea to alienate yourself from Joker but confronting the situation head on was impossible with your current mindset. You couldn't stomach being near him or rather you didn't trust yourself being near him.

A full hallway separated you from the green haired clown but at times you felt he was in the same room with you, breathing down your neck.

His presence just wouldn't go away. He was practically bedridden but you found yourself jumping at every noise, thinking Joker was walking up on you. It was an unhealthy situation you put yourself in and it did a number on you mentally, but what could you do?

It's not like you could kick him out of your apartment. Your conscience wouldn't allow you to do that and you highly doubted Joker would let you live long enough to get him out of the bed.

You were stuck with him now. No take backies just because you couldn't handle your psychotic roommate trying to kiss you. Your life was forever changed after inviting Joker into it. You spent so much time dwelling on the present, you didn't think about the aftermath of what would happen after he was fully healed.

Would Joker spare your life? Would you get a thank you from him and finally return to normalcy without ever seeing him again? The mere thought was comical.

You knew Joker would kill you the moment he didn't need you anymore and the truth left a bitter taste in your mouth.

Were you that disposable to him? Once your usefulness was exhausted would you be cast out and discarded like trash? You put so much effort into his recovery process without any lasting results, it was definitely frustrating.

The plate in your hand sank back into the soapy water as your thoughts also sunk to a low place.

The afternoon city view from your kitchen normally helped quell any troubling thoughts but not today.

The pile of dirty dishes from making breakfast taunted your mind and did nothing to lift your mood. Avoiding Joker was wearing you down both mentally and physically. In your tired state, your thoughts were a plenty and you started to question your actions.

Just what were you doing? Was being a Good Samaritan the right thing to do in this situation?

Joker was a wanted criminal with a record as long as the Nile River and with a ledger forever stained red. Nothing you did would change that fact or the way he was. So why did you even bother trying to help someone like him?

Doubt and waves of regret were hitting you full force today. Your brain was so confused! You shook your hands free of the dish suds and wiped off the excess water on a nearby towel. You then dragged a hand through your curls, ignoring the baby hairs that soaked up the remaining moisture. The towel landed on the countertop behind you as you leaned back on the edge with a heavy sigh.

You weren't crazy, at least you didn't think you were.

You didn't meet any Arkham Asylum's admitting patient requirements. You just refused to fall for a guy like Joker. Simple as that.

You knew your heart and how easy it would be to let him in and develop feelings. It was too dangerous to go down that road with him and it was far too risky to continue tempting fate. You had to set up boundaries and distance yourself before it was too late. It took him a mere day to get you on your back, this next week and a half could not end up the same way.

You nodded to yourself; it was already Wednesday. You managed to last five days already with Gotham City's most notorious criminal in your guest bedroom without any other incidents.

That wasn't to say it was a cakewalk. You felt like an intruder in your own home dealing with Joker. Despite telling him to shout if he needed anything, you barricaded yourself in your room Friday night, refusing to come out, even for a late night snack despite your stomach's pleas for food.

A solid wooden door and an entire hallway separated you from Joker but it wasn't enough to calm your nerves. He didn't call out to you during the night and upon waking up, the door to Joker's room remained almost forbidden to approach.

It was cracked just enough to get a peek inside and see the edge of the cowhide rug and one of the two chairs within the room. You had to step in closer to see the bed and the occupant therein— and yes, you were dumb enough to risk getting caught.

Your bare feet barely made a sound on the hardwood floor as you tiptoed over to the king sized bed near the far wall.

Joker must've found the room's universal remote, for the curtains were drawn, hiding the Saturday morning sunrise from flooding into the room. Shadows were in full control here but it was just enough light available to catch Joker's slumbering face resting on a mountain of pillows. He didn't bother turning the bed down and slept on top of the covers like the uncultured person he was.

You shook your head in disappointment. What was the point in relocating him in here if he didn't use the bed properly?

Did you want to risk waking him up to tuck him in? Or was it best to leave him be? The decision was made for you as Joker shifted in his sleep and rolled onto his back.

Nope. Too risky— but now you could see him in all of his unnatural beauty.

You were glad he moved from that awkward position of lying on his side, the same one when you ran out the room last night. Did he move at all since then?

Now the pillows cushioned his body weight and allowed his face to be turned towards you. Although his oily hair hid his black face paint and eyes, you could still admire the subtle nuisances that made Joker attractive from this angle.

Without his waistcoat on, you could take in his dark green suit jacket that contrasted beautifully with the lilac honeycomb pattern dress shirt he wore underneath that he paired with a greyish plum colored tie.

Your hands subconsciously moved to unloosen it so he could breathe easier– only to hate yourself immediately afterwards.

You were supposed to keep your distance yet here you were touching him so freely! Everything about Joker was bad news but you were still drawn to him. You tossed and turned all night trying to make sense of what to do with your magnetic (and unhealthy) attraction towards Joker. Why deny yourself the inevitable? Could you trust yourself around him to try out the unknown?

The same way you trusted your imagination to create a story from a blank word document, you would trust your instincts on how to interact around Joker. You sighed and pulled the blanket from the leather couch over to cover up Joker's body.

Trying to tuck him in would disturb his sleep and the soft snoring coming from his parted mouth was made out of pure exhaustion. They sounded too cute, so you let him be.

Tip toeing back towards the door, you took one last look at the man asleep on your bed before slipping out of the room to begin working on your rough draft.

That was days ago. After that one-sided encounter, you only bothered Joker to drop off his meals, despite agreeing with yourself to let things evolve naturally.

You wanted to patch things up with Joker but every time you stood in the same room, you clammed up.

Not that he minded the standoffish energy. In fact you were under the impression he liked you fearing him. Whenever you knocked twice on his door, sharp green eyes pierced your soul and never looked away as you set his food down, gathered any leftovers or trash from the previous drop off, and shifted uncomfortably on your feet. You seriously felt like a stranger in your own home..

"D-Do you need anything else?" You would ask without making eye contact and of course the only response you would get was that vague huff of his. It was neither a yes or no response, just indifference.

It hurt to be snubbed by him but you did reject his advances. He probably wanted you dead but you stomached through the awkwardness and nodded to yourself.

"Alrighty.. um. I'll stop by once you're done with this." You waved at the serving tray. "You have the tv remote and.."

"Just go Y/n, I'm fine."

It was the only thing Joker would say to you. A clear dismissal. One that you obeyed with a heavy heart.

Maybe he didn't want you around anymore. He didn't ask for your help and you knew he struggled walking back from the bathroom, but you didn't speak up or offer him any assistance either.

You knew when you weren't wanted. Creating distance became second nature despite your burning desire in wanting to patch things up with Joker.

With another pitiful nod, you were on your way, only to return like clockwork to deliver him more food. Nothing more, nothing less.

That's what you wanted right? No unnecessary contact with Joker, no chances to strike up a conversation or give him the opportunity to try anything but the silence between you wasn't natural, it was forced, and it ate away at you mentally.

You were regretting your decision all weekend but your pride wouldn't allow you to address the problem that only worsened as the days passed by.

You spent your downtime cleaning up the apartment and catching up on other chores in between working. Now that Joker no longer occupied the living room couch, it was the perfect time to try and clean the upholstery stained by his clown makeup and dried up blood.

That ended up being a failure. Your eye twitched in irritation when none of the online hacks worked against the tough stains. You knew the thing was old (you purchased it at an estate sale on its last years) but after spending almost an hour with no visible results, you honored the antique for its service and turned to plan B. Buying a new couch online.

Dick and Barbara joked every time they came over about you refusing to upgrade to a more modern couch but you were committed to the aesthetic this one brought to your space.

This go around whatever new piece you picked out, it would be both stylish and comfortable to sit on.

You sat on the nearby accent chair and scrolled through your phone for a good couch, taking up a good chunk of the morning hour in the search.

You were thinking something velvet and mid-century in a cool blue to offset the rest of the eccentric pieces in your apartment. You wanted it to stand out but not be an eyesore either and went back and forth between an orange sectional and its matching blue option. One look around your space made you choose the blue sectional and you threw in a floor lamp to get free next day delivery.

Now that a replacement was ordered, you were in a better mood. Online shopping had that effect on you. After a good stretch from sitting for so long, you managed to push the old couch towards the far corner of the penthouse for the movers to take away and began cleaning the now open area.

Seeing all the dust bunnies where your old couch sat prompted you to upgrade your spot cleaning into a full deep clean that extended up reaching towards the ceiling.

For a brief moment you forgot you weren't alone in the apartment and blasted music from your record player to keep the positive energy going as you cleaned. It was late Wednesday morning and having already delivered Joker his breakfast, you had a few hours to yourself until it was time to start making lunch.

You found the ladder in the storage closet and began the climb to reach the rafters, but slipped on a step.

Your life flashed before your eyes. With a yelp, the duster fell out of your grip and hit the floor while you found your footing and calmed your racing heart. Times like this you hated having vaulted ceilings.

Elsewhere, Joker was finishing up the breakfast hash you made him when he heard the loud crash in the main room.

He tried his hardest not to panic as the silence dragged on but breathed a sigh of relief once he heard your sarcastic ramblings drift down the hall.

'Next time can you try a little more harder to kill yourself, Y/n? What a crappy way to die. What would mother think about you dying from dusting? I seriously need to hire a maid for this.'

Joker chuckled at your comment but stopped when he realized what he was doing. Why was he laughing? His humor was dark enough to get the joke, but he was still upset with you.

It would be a good thing if you died. He wouldn't have to worry about you and your fickle emotions but then you wouldn't be around and Joker kinda liked your company.

He also needed you around for another week or so. You were a terrible nurse, but your lack of morale could be blamed on his recent behavior.

Joker could tell you began to fear him after Friday night.

Normally that would be an ideal reaction, wonderful even! Who didn't fear him other than Batman? Joker preferred it when people feared him but not you. You were an exception.

He kinda liked your carefree smiles and cheerful presence. It made him feel normal, if only for a fleeting moment. He didn't know how to go about addressing the situation to bring back your happiness. You avoided eye contact with him whenever you dropped off his food and you didn't stick around for long. There were conversation starters queued up in his mind but once you entered the room, they evaporated like vapor.

All Joker could do was stare at you and hope that you would take the hint and strike up a conversation. But you didn't.

He didn't think he should apologize but the way you turned down his advances needed to be addressed.

He was under the impression you were attracted to him. The shy glances, snuggling up to him on the walk back to your apartment, heck you even complimented him a few times! So why in the heat of the moment did you deny him? Not like he cared that much about a kiss but he was a curious man by nature, and those plush lips of yours captured his attention since the moment he saw you.

So yeah he would admit, you couldn't die until he figured out what they felt like!

If only he had enough strength to get up and walk, then this awkward tension between the two of you wouldn't be an issue. But his leg felt like crap and he wasn't gonna bring it up and worry you even more.

Surely you would check it soon. If you didn't, then you were truly a terrible nurse and he would never let you hear the end of it.

You could cook so he would give you that. These past few days Joker felt like a pampered king dining on the various dishes you delivered to him. Overall he enjoyed your breakfast the most since you deemed it the 'most important meal of the day' and always made it with the intention of it being a heavy meal.

You magically knew what he liked and always had options for him if it somehow wasn't up to his palate.

Rich omelettes and authentic crepes, artisan sandwiches and nutritional bowls of all varieties, fresh meats grilled to perfection, paired with seasoned sides or fresh bread to dip into savory soups or his newest favorite, a hearty breakfast hash with a perfect runny egg on top.

You were spoiling him. He was still miffed about the lack of physical contact but you were making up for it with your food. Joker was convinced you were secretly a chef and not a YA author.

But despite all the gourmet dishes you served, he would not be silenced. He had to get to the bottom of why you were avoiding him and today was the perfect day to find out.

Joker was down to the last straw at being cooped up inside this room without your annoying, but addicting aura filling the air.

Seeing you for barely two minutes, just three times a day, was driving him insane. There was a perfectly good couch in this room for you to sit on and keep him company! He craved your company and this time, he wouldn't clam up when you stopped by.

You were staying, come hell or high water.

He occupied his free time until lunch by watching tv and smirked to himself when a news reporter broadcasted a segment of him still at large. It was fun to watch the city panic in fear as he relaxed in plain sight, but he sat up when a reminder for your latest tv interview flashed on screen.

He paused the tv and hovered over the description details. He didn't know this interview had aired so he needed to watch every second to add anything said to his pre-existing notes. Some would say Joker was obsessed– he just considered himself a huge fan of your work and wanted to appreciate all the content you provided.

Bonus points, he got to see your dazzling smile as you talked about your books.

"Huh. I guess they finally aired it. Took them long enough to decide on a day."

Joker was startled from his thoughts by your voice as you entered the room with lunch.

How much time had passed since he heard you cleaning? A glance at the wall clock confirmed almost an hour had passed. He really spent two hours thinking about you. He really needed to get out of his room.

It took him a nanosecond to realize you were actually talking to him. This was his chance to make things right!

Normally you didn't speak when bringing Joker his food, but today you created an opening for him to latch onto. Joker turned back to the tv and played it for a brief second so your latest book promo art was visible, and paused it again.

If he remembered correctly, the recent sequel in your series hit the bookstores earlier this year, making this interview release date way off. It was a good conversation starter so Joker tossed it out there.

"Why are they just now releasing your filmed interview? I thought.. you uh, finish-ed your book tour a few months ago?" Did he sound like a stalker for knowing that?

He hoped you answered the question regardless if he did. In fact, he needed you to. You flinched as you set the serving tray down on the nightstand and began fidgeting with the items on it. You bit your lip as you thought of an answer.

As Joker waited, he noticed a grater and a block of cheese on a small plate, next to a larger one that held some kind of pasta. He quirked an eyebrow at the array of colors it held and you must've noticed since you were quick to explain as you unwrapped the cheese.

"It's a Antipasto salad with fresh salami from a local deli tossed with rotini pasta, cherry tomatoes, chickpeas.. um and some other Italian veggies like artichokes, olives, and mozzarella balls that I made. From scratch! I-I hope you like it!"

You all but shoved a plate into Joker's hands and grabbed the cheese grater. "I have some Reggiano if you want or some olive oil vinaigrette that I made, or maybe toasted pine nuts to-"

"Y/n."

"Y-Yes Joker?" He hated how jumpy you were. He rolled his eyes and picked up the fork laying on the tray to stab a bit of everything you mentioned.

He knew he was making you even more nervous by stalling, but he loved the power he had over the moment. Joker wanted to savor it and keep you here as long as possible until he figured out what to say. But his eyes widened after tasting your pasta.

It was delicious on its own with just the right amount of crunch, flavor, and texture bursting on his taste buds. He knew the other toppings would enhance the dish but they weren't necessary. You outdid yourself yet again.

You swore you saw Joker smirk into his plate of food before he made eye contact with you.

It had been days since you saw his dark eyes look your way and having his undivided attention was overwhelming after such a long time without it.

He swallowed before rephrasing his earlier question. "What's the book interview about?"

Interview? What interview? Your brain did not want to function properly today. Joker caught you off guard.

You were so focused on the pasta you forgot about his question that started this little chat. Did you feel comfortable answering? It wasn't a short answer and you knew it would spark a long conversation if Joker had the patience to listen to it.

Is that what he wanted? Did he want to talk with you? But why now?

A part of healing was socializing with people and being cooped up in this room with only a tv for entertainment was bound to get boring after a while. You resist the urge to facepalm yourself because once again you stunted Joker's healing process.

And all to protect your feelings. This wasn't fair to you or him. There had to be a way to keep your distance from Joker while still fulfilling your duties as his nurse, while also being friendly. You thought over some ideas and smiled wide when you found a loophole.

Joker instantly noticed the warmth didn't reach your eyes. You were still holding back from him and he needed to know why.

You let out a shaky laugh and scratched your neck.

"Well.. my manager wanted to continue the media hype for the Will Hunter Bill series so she organized a few tv interviews to air after my book tour ended. If I'm still being mentioned on air, that means more people will buy my books. Any form of advertisement right now matters since I haven't dropped any new content in almost a year. There's been talk of a small live action series, but I highly doubt it'll get picked up."

He saw an article in the papers about it but thought it was just a rumor. "Why noT?" He asked.

You glanced over at Joker who was still eating but waiting on your reply.

You blinked and slowly sat down on the edge of the bed, much to Joker's glee. You never stayed this long before and he knew the simple act of you taking a seat was a big step towards repairing the awkward air between the two of you.

Now he just needed to keep the conversation flowing and not screw anything up until it naturally steered towards Friday's misunderstanding. He waved his fork in an exaggerated circle, gesturing for you to keep talking.

"Oh uh.. It won't be done in house. Which means, although I legally approve and give them my consent to create a show, it won't be my original content. They could change the entire plot just to suit their ratings and I don't want that to happen. I want any adaptations of my work to be as canon as possible, not twisted and botched just to make a quick buck."

You drew a pattern on the cotton bedspread with your fingernail until you snagged a loose thread away to play with during your explanation.

Joker hummed to himself before asking another question. "Have you uh.. talked about this to your.. manager?" He didn't expect your voice to raise in anger.

"I can't!" You huffed. "It's a miracle that someone wants to make a show in the first place so I'm in no position to be a picky Karen and restrict their usage. What if they get tired of my demands and decide they don't want to produce anything? Then I'll be blacklisted and placed in a far worse situation than I'm in now. Ugh, if only I schmoozed with those silver screen producers at that charity event earlier this year, then I could have a movie deal with creative license restrictions in place. Then they would have no other choice but to listen to me as co- producer. Everything would be on my terms."

Joker loved your little pout. He knew you were upset but your soft chibi cheeks puffing out in anger put emphasis on those plush petals you called lips. He knew staring was rude but your temper made you even more attractive in his eyes.

He never seen lips so naturally rosy like yours before. Such a beautiful shade of pink, he subconsciously leaned forward wanting just a little taste...

Joker cleared his throat and spotted the glass of water you brought with his lunch.

"You want a movie deal?" He asked in between sips. He was convinced you put spicy peppers in the antipasto, that, or you brainwashed him.

"Yes, or maybe an animated series. Either one really. If I stick to just literature, soon enough people will get bored and move onto the next bestseller. But movies are permanent and can easily be a franchise if it's successful in the box office. I'll be on set everyday to make sure my story is given justice on the big screen! Plus, I already know which actors I wanna cast so that's taken care of." You giggled, looking off to the side.

Joker was interested in hearing your casting list but he let it slide for now. He wanted your attention back on him.

"Is that what the in-ter-view is about? Discussing how your series could be adapted to.. ah, film?" He felt like he was conducting an interview of his own and loved every minute of it.

He once dreamt of interviewing you back when he was still imprisoned at Arkham and now it was actually happening. You seriously didn't know how much he studied your oeuvre in his downtime. He was more than a fan.

To you, talking about your work with Joker was just mindless chatter, but to him it was an experience to check off of his bucket list. Well– second to watching Gotham burn, but Rome wasn't built in a day. He could prioritize some things.

Joker stabbed a mozzarella ball, seasoned with black pepper and oregano, eyeing it carefully until you stole it right off his fork. He blinked in shock as you chewed and answered like nothing was wrong.

"Of course. I brought it up numerous times that I wanted a movie adaptation but I stayed humble about it, saying it would never get off the ground without proper funding. And it is the truth."

You were back to fiddling with the loose thread with a forlorn gaze that Joker didn't like. "You have plenty of rich friends, Y/n. Ask one of them to pay for your movie." He scoffed.

You flashed Joker a sour look. "Bruce and I are not friends.. but he would be interested in being a sponsor."

You pursed your lips mulling it over. "No, I don't want to use him like that. It feels wrong and I really shouldn't be venting about it to you." You rose from the bed and tidied up the serving tray, preparing to leave. "Finish eating your food and I'll be back later."

Wrong move. Bringing up your relationship with Wayne was a touchy topic. Joker would remember that fact for later but he didn't want you to leave just yet.

He was nowhere near breaching the topic about what had happened Friday night. He didn't know he spoke his inner thoughts out loud until you repeated them back to him.

"Y-You want me to stay?" You said.

"Uh. Yeah?" Joker's reply was a shock to you as it was to him. He was observant enough to notice your hesitation. "Stay and.. talk some more about your interview." Joker licked his lips and the action made him tense up.

He'd gone a while without refreshing it. In fact, he lost count of how many days it's been since he last applied his makeup.

There was no telling how bad it looked. It wasn't his first rodeo sleeping with his makeup on but he was never this careless with its upkeep.

You didn't comment on his appearance, leaving him no other choice but to check during his next bathroom visit. It would defeat the whole purpose of being a mysterious criminal if you saw his face without his signature makeup. Joker heard you sigh and gave you his undivided attention again.

"Is that even necessary? It seems like you were gonna watch it later." Joker blinked and remembered he asked you about the paused tv interview.

So you saw the cursor hovering over the record option. He could play along with your teasing. He was a jester after all.

"Why bother watching it if I can hear the story straight from the, uh, source? Your voice is uh.. nice to listen to so it's a win-win here."

Okay that was smooth. You had no comment after that. You pulled the slate grey chair from the couch area over and sat down, propping your face in your hands.

What harm was there explaining your interview to Joker? You reminded yourself to be nice to your roommate but also keep your distance from him at the same time. Finding a way to achieve both wouldn't be as stressful as flat out trying to avoid Joker altogether.

Joker was interesting to be around and you hoped the feeling was mutual. He was a tough puzzle, one you desperately needed to solve, before he left your apartment since he was unknowingly the muse for your latest wip. It would all come together in time if you cracked Joker's psyche. However one look into his dark, smoky eyes revealed the outcome to your dangerous game.

You were way out of your depth, but you would go down trying to understand Joker. Penning another bestseller was worth the risk.

So with a gentle smile and the patience of a preschool teacher, you took a deep breath and began recapping your interview to Joker.

It took longer than you anticipated.

What was originally an hour and forty-five minute long interview (including tv commercials) took almost two and half since Joker stopped you every five seconds to ask a question.

He battered you like a reporter and at one point you commented that he could put Vicki Vale out of business.

"Hmm, that noisy reporter should realllly keep her mouth shut. I'd hate to take her off the air all because of bad press."

Okay. So someone had beef with Gotham City's most popular female tv host. You knew he was thinking of ways to kill the poor gal by the eerie smile on his face and awkwardly looked away.

You didn't dare open up that can of worms and wisely steered the conversation away onto a different topic. "So...I'm assuming since your plate is empty you enjoyed today's lunch?"

"Lunch was fine, I enjoyed your company more."

You needed to stop taking his words to heart. Would it kill him to give you a compliment after you worked so hard cooking his meals from scratch? Wait, what did he say?!

You snapped your head up to meet Joker's dark gaze that was already focused on you.

How were you supposed to keep your distance when a kaleidoscope of green bore into your shocked e/c eyes?

Every shade of green from the lightest hue of mint to juniper swirled into one, blurring the lines of your decision to stay away. The angel on your shoulder screamed at you to run but the devil perched on your right encouraged you to stay just a little longer. What could possibly go wrong anyway?

You leaned forward in the chair so you could rest your forearms on the comforter.

"Joker, listen. I'm sorry for neglecting you over the weekend. It's just, oh how do I say this?" You chuckled and shook your head, making Joker eye you warily. "I've never had a roommate before and especially not one like you. I'm getting used to you being here and it was very rude of me to ghost you the way I did."

"Whatever happened between us Friday night can't happen again, you understand that right? I mean, you're a great guy, um I think, and I'm flattered you think that way about me but I-"

This was the exact opposite of how Joker planned this conversation to go. He felt his eye twitch in irritation (why couldn't you stick to the script that he imagined inside his head?) and held up his hand to stop you.

"Are you still hung up on something that happened five days ago? Sheesh Y/n, you reallly need to get out more." He sighed before reaching over to pat your head. "Don't worry that pretty little head of yours! For now on, I'll keep my hands to myself, bunny."

You swatted his hand away and hoped your ears weren't turning red. "I told you to stop calling me that!" You tutted and raised a hand to fix the hair he ruffled out of place. You were rocking a perfect twist out today and he wasn't about to ruin it by being a bully.

"What else am I supposed to call you?" Joker asked. "By my name?!" You replied back just as fast.

"Hmm, that's no fun."

Breathe in... and breathe out. You would not let Joker stress you out. He just said he would keep his hands to himself, so that checked off unnecessary contact off of your fear list.

He respected your need for space. You didn't have to walk on eggshells around him and drag around bags of tension whenever you were in the same room together. Things could go back to normal, well as normal as things could be given your bizarre situation. If only he could stop using that annoying nickname..

You eyed the clock on the wall and sighed at the time.

"Do you need anything else? Maybe some help to the bathroom?" You stopped mid sentence to scrunch up your nose. "Or perhaps some help getting to the shower?" Joker narrowed his eyes.

"Thank my wonderful nurse for taking such good.. care of me. She deserved five stars for her hard worK." Joker said sarcastically.

"Can you stop rubbing that in? How many times do I have to apologize for you to forgive me? I'm gonna go find some saran wrap to cover your wound." Before you could reach the door, Joker stopped you.

"Wait." You turned around only to find Joker looking off to the side, avoiding your gaze. "I need you to check it first."

"Check what? Check your bandages?"

Your lack of common sense was rearing its ugly head again. "Yes Y/n.. what else is there to check? It feels... weird."

That was odd coming from him. If you weren't mistaken, his pain tolerance was notoriously high. You walked back over to the bed and got comfortable near his right leg.

You slowly undid the tight gauze and dressing wrapped around Joker's leg and asked some probing questions. "Define weird, Joker. Itchy? Burning? Numbness–"

The last layer of gauze was removed to reveal the current state of Joker's wound.

It was all of your greatest fears amplified by one hundred. Somewhere in your amateur surgery, you goofed up and things went horribly wrong. Joker's wound turned your stomach. The stitches were swollen and were literally bursting at the seams in a sickly shade of yellow and green with dried up blood trying to ooze out from the cracks.

It looked like something straight off a cheap Halloween movie but this was a reality you and Joker had to face.

He leaned over to inspect his thigh and poked it out of pure curiosity. Some kind of pus leaked out and you gagged at the sound it made. You quickly covered your mouth and ran into the bathroom where you began to dry heave into the toilet.

Joker tried to stifle his laugh but failed. "I knew it! You areeee squeamish, Y/n! And to think you wrote a gory thriller that real life serial killers fantasize about recreating, but can't stomach seeing an infect-ed gunshot wound."

Joker's infamous laughter bounced off the walls, becoming louder and louder inside your head.

This was absolutely perfect. You hoped his wound wouldn't get infected yet here you were panicking on how to fix this without taking him to a hospital.

You couldn't be seen as his accomplice and Joker would be arrested the moment anyone saw him.

So many days without his recapture made everyone in Gotham paranoid and super vigilant. The GCPD made it perfectly clear anyone that came forward with a tip that led to Joker being apprehended would be paid handsomely and in this city, money motivated people.

You went out on Monday to get more groceries and things since you were cooking for two for the unforeseeable future, and it felt like everyone knew you were hiding Joker in your apartment.

From the random citizens on the subway, to the cashier at the store, it felt like everyone was judging you.

It made you antsy the entire time you were out until you made it back to your apartment floor. They couldn't have known right? There wasn't a giant sign on your back that read 'Joker is at my place!' but that's what it felt like.

Keeping him a secret was a lot harder than you thought.

You were always aware of your surroundings before meeting Joker but now your paranoia made you hyper aware of everything and anyone.

Weeks ago, seeing a GCPD cruiser wouldn't have bothered you, now the sight of one made you hide until the coast was clear. You felt like a criminal and in a way, you were. You were looking at a life sentence for just helping Joker and everyday that reminder was a tough pill to swallow.

That's why you had to fix this infection by yourself. Trying to involve others with Joker's recovery would make the situation even more complicated.

For a brief moment you considered calling your mother and asking her how to treat an infected gunshot wound and use the good old fashioned, 'it's for a book mom!' excuse when she asked what it was for.

Yes, she was a doctor, but a mother first and foremost. She would drill you with questions to make sure you were safe but she always answered your medical questions whenever the internet failed to educate you enough.

And since she was your mother, she would instantly pick up on the sheer panic in your voice and know your questions about gunshot wounds were not for some 'book character.'

You never lied to your mother before and you weren't about to start. She would ask who got shot and like an idiot you would spill the beans about your temporary roommate and then it would be game over.

Call mom, she calls GCPD, the police swarm your apartment, both you and Joker are taken into custody. You confess he forced you to heal him and after a call to your lawyer, you'd be given a deal to save your own behind. You could write a story about your ordeal and make a fortune off of it while Joker rots away at Arkham Asylum. Roll credits.

Nothing about that outcome sounded fair. Why did Joker always get the short end of the stick in life? Was he not worthy of a happy ending? Who were you to try and create one for him?

Nothing was coming up so you groaned and stood up to wash out your mouth at the sink.

Your throat was raw from trying to vomit and the oddly sweet, putrid smell from Joker's infection made you gag again just from thinking about it.

You felt horrible for not checking his bandages in five days. Did you forget everything from your volunteer work at the hospital?

You gave bacteria the perfect conditions to grow. You wondered when Joker started to notice the signs or, in his own words, started to feel weird.

Was there still bullet fragments inside the wound that caused his infection or did you not seal the wound properly? There were so many variables and being stuck at home was not the best way to tackle any of them.

Joker needed a medical professional at this point. Perhaps it was best to call your mother.

"Y/n! Did ya fall in or what?"

At least Joker was staying positive despite everything. You sighed to yourself and rinsed your mouth out for a final time before returning back to the bedroom to witness Joker trying to get off the bed.

"Woah! Where are you going!?" You rushed over and pushed him back down and propped his leg back up on the elevated pillows you had some sense in arranging five days ago. What good it did.

Joker grumbled to save face but allowed you to fuss over him without further complaint.

It was the first physical contact he received in a few days and he soaked it up like a sponge. He rarely received human contact so getting it from you was like a shot of Scarecrow toxin. No one ever cared about him but you did without any ulterior motives.

You did everything out of the kindness of your heart and he couldn't wrap his head as to why.

There were more cons than pros in helping him. Why were you helping him?

Your hand brushed his and the brief contact brought him out of his thoughts to catch only the end of your sentence. "Mind repeating that, bunny?"

You sighed. "Of course you weren't listening. I'm going to undo your stitches and look for any bullet fragments that could possibly be still inside your leg. It's the only thing I can think of that would make your wound react like this. Is that okay with you?" He glanced down to where you squeezed his hand and arched an eyebrow.

Were you stressing over this again? He hated when that melancholic aura wrapped around you. It made you even more annoying. Females and their ever changing emotions. Joker knew he said he would keep his hands to himself but he thought this was a moment where it was necessary.

Joker rested his hand over yours and tilted his head, "Does it looK like I care? I've been looking forward to trying out that orgy sized shower of yours and this uh.. whole infection thingy is delaying that adventure."

"My what?"

"Sweetheart. We both know a grouP of people can fit inside that shower of yours. Why deny its true purpose?"

Joker squeezed your hand while wagging his eyebrows underneath his white face paint. "The quicker you redo my stitches, the faster we can... shower."

You finally caught onto what Joker was saying. "You pervert! And to think I was seriously worried about you! You.. and the.. Ughh!"

Joker smiled as you stormed out the bedroom, mostly likely to grab your first aid kit and other supplies needed to begin his second home surgery.

A job well done in his eyes. He got your mind off of the negative and it was a win-win situation for everyone since he really... really, liked when you were angry.

Joker still sported a smug grin upon your return with the same old towels, washed of course, (thank goodness you didn't throw them out) and the same metal bowls as before filled with water.

Everything had a place either on the bed or on top of the little table you dragged in here to hold your tools.

The top light was on and you also plugged in a floor lamp to serve as a surgery light that you could move as needed. Joker thought you looked cute with your tongue sticking out between your lips during your intense concentration.

He considered cracking a joke but highly doubted you would hear it. You were in the zone to get this right.

"Okay, Joker I'm gonna start. Pulling out the stitches this early might sting, so I'm sorry in advance." You warned him.

"Does that mean I can hold your hand?" He asked.

Just to get back at him, you quickly pulled a stitch clean out with your tweezers. His loud hiss put a smile on your face but it was short lived.

"Do that again and your little uh book deadline? ThaT will be the least of your worries."

Lesson learned: never play tit for tat with Joker.

You nodded and set to work slowly undoing the surgical knots sewn into skin, while cutting out the excess. The smell made you gag a few times but you suffered through it. It became worse when the wound was open and you could see the pus and tainted blood desperate to escape.

"Ughh this is disgusting." You whined but cleaned the infected area and dug out the tiny suction device included in the first aid kit.

You always wondered what its purpose was: you learned something new everyday.

Meanwhile, Joker was gritting his teeth trying to tough it out. This was nothing compared to the shock therapy and inhumane treatment Arkham 'cured' him with. So why did he feel every tiny scrape, poke, and gust of air that touched his wound? He must've slipped with his poker face, since you stopped working.

"Joker.. my hands are a little busy but if you want, y-you can hold onto my shoulder." You threw personal space out the window and all but straddled Joker's right leg to work as closely as possible to his injury.

All it took was a tilt of your head and leaning forward to kiss Joker, but you weren't about to do that and curse your brain for bringing it up! He was very close and if he needed an anchor while you yanked his skin apart, your shoulder was an available option.

"I'd block your light." He noted.

You moved it from his left hand side to yours. "There. Now you don't have an excuse."

He watched you lower your gaze back to your work, humming softly.

How sweet of you to offer a shoulder to lean on but he refused to be seen as weak. It didn't hurt that bad but Joker decided to be selfish for once.

His hand fully engulfed your shoulder making you jump at first. It felt wonderful but you wanted to keep some boundaries in check. "D-Don't squeeze too hard."

He wouldn't dream of it.

Why did he agree to no physical contact? The shirt you wore slipped from your shoulder (or maybe it was designed that way?) into the crook of your elbow, letting the entire spanse of skin be visible to Joker's eyes. Just how comfortable were you around him?

An unknown male living in your apartment with you and this is what you decide to wear? Granted you were cooking and cleaning before you came to see him but the skin tight leggings and baggy, oversized sweater look was a bit extreme.

If he didn't know any better he'd wager you were trying to seduce him. It was the only explanation for the clothes that you moseyed around the apartment in.

Now that he looked closer, the Gotham University crest sparked his interest. You didn't attend college, or should he say– none of your blog posts and author bio's hinted that you did, so who's alumni gear were you wearing?

Why did that bother him? So what if you wore someone else's clothes? His thumb moved of its own accord, caressing the column of your neck and collarbone while he imagined you wearing something of his. Since when did he become domestic?

You pressed down too hard on his wound, earning a wince from Joker and you quickly apologized. "Sorry, this is the last one then I can start digging around."

All you received was a hum in reply.

You stole a glance through your lashes at Joker who was lost in thought with his gaze fixed on his hand that was on you.

You could tell his focus was not in this room but beyond it and you wondered what vexed his thoughts at a time like this. It wasn't any of your business so you ducked your head back into your work and that's how the following half hour was spent.

After the wound was flushed out with water you surveyed the damage— taking note of the pus that still lingered and which areas were more sensitive than others and moved to grab your tweezers. The floor lamp was brought closer and Joker admired the dedication you gave him.

It was cute to see how focused you got with things whether it be writing or cleaning out a gunshot wound.

He knew if the situation wasn't dire, you would have played some music for background noise. He liked your tastes so far and found himself humming along over the weekend when you listened to some music. He figured being an only child the silence could be deafening and in a way he could relate.

He too was alone for years and learned to fill the void with sounds of people screaming and explosions. You chose music, a normal option compared to his, but you two had some things in common.

"Oh my gosh, how did I miss this?"

Joker blinked and glanced your way when you pulled out a large chunk of brass for him to see.

You twisted it every which way in the same manner he did with the original bullet that you now knew was missing a sizable piece.

"No wonder your wound was infected! Joker, I'm so sorry for not being more thorough last time!"

The shell piece found a home in the metal bowl containing tainted water. You looked for any other remaining debris, this time not letting your anxiety get in the way of doing a thorough job.

Joker had to disagree. You were anything but meticulous during his first surgery. He too wondered how that big of a piece eluded you from before but didn't want to stroke your ego with a compliment.

He did not give them out all willy nilly, they had to be earned but you deserved a few just because you were Y/n.

That sounded as cringeworthy inside his head than saying it out loud. He hated being this soft, all for a girl.

Whatever happened to the Joker that scammed the local mob bosses of their money? The one who pulled off citywide heists like the mad evil genius he was?

This sad excuse of himself was now reduced to uncertain feelings and thinking about a girl! At least you were worthy of occupying his thoughts.

But why were you so likeable? Did you really brainwash him? Maybe you poisoned his oatmeal that day with some kind of love potion. It would explain why he couldn't hate you unlike everything else he did in this city.

Of course there were plenty of times he wanted to smother you with a pillow or stab you with a butter knife, or strangle you with his bare hands, but every time some unknown power steadied his hand. He couldn't follow through with his murderous intent when it came to you.

What made him not want to kill you? Why were you so different from the populace he could kill without hesitation? So many questions he was trying to solve and he would receive no help from you whatsoever.

All you gave him were little pangs to his heart whenever you smiled at him with that bubbly gleam in your eye.

"There! All done!" Like that. Just like that.

The room was stuffy from the steady rain outside but somehow your smile set the room alight with warmth and hope. Great, now you turned him into an optimist.

But there was something about the way you smiled. Any situation. no matter how grim, Joker knew if he saw that trident smile of yours, everything would be alright.

He wanted things to be alright with you.

"Joker? Don't just sit there, let's go! That orgy shower won't enjoy itself!" You rolled your eyes and pushed all of the first-aid kit stuff to the side of the bed.

He was stumped by your words. His wound was still open and you were already in the bathroom rooting around for towels and things, talking as if you were done here. Had you finally lost your mind?

"Uh.. Y/n. Ya lost me." He sat up when you returned, already urging him up with a firm hand on his back and another on his arm. "Care to explain your logic here?"

He waved at his exposed thigh and you slapped your forehead. "Oh sorry." He watched you warily as you began unbuttoning his suit vest, tossing it onto the chair.

Where was this going?!!

"You sir are gonna take a shower. That hot water at first will feel like a b___h but.." you stopped to tug his socks and tie off leaving him in just his original dress shirt and cut pants. "It will do wonders and clean out your wound better than I ever could. Once you wash all that blood and dirt off, I got you some clothes to change into and then you can finally sleep underneath the bed covers. How does that sound?"

You finished with a wink over your shoulder, disappearing into the bathroom.

Joker liked that idea a lot. He couldn't remember the last time he had a shower that stayed hot for the entire duration. You were truly spoiling him. Bumping into you in Chinatown was the best accident he ever made. A guy could get used to this.

You emerged from the bathroom with another beautiful smile of yours. "You ready?"

He couldn't resist teasing you. "Ah, are you showering with me Bunny?"

He chuckled seeing the color drain from your face. It was too easy to pick on you but it was his turn to be caught off guard when you replied.

"Well um sorta. I was thinking... It's gonna be difficult for you to stand upright during your shower so uh.. I'm gonna j-join you but not like how you're thinking that would be highly inappropriate and I'll keep my clothes on and I'll have my back turned away to give you privacy, not like you need privacy, wait! That's not what I meant!!"

You were also adorable when you were nervous. For a writer you managed to complete three run-on sentences all in one breath without passing out from embarrassment. You slapped your face and exhaled to calm your nerves and tried again.

"I'll support you as much as I can while you shower but NO FUNNY BUSINESS! I mean it, Joker!!" You pointed a finger at his figure shaking with laughter.

He eyed you up and down and nodded but you knew he wouldn't be able to contain himself when the time came.

"Freaking pervert. I'm going to change, when I get back, be ready, okay?"

"Ready as I'll ever be." He couldn't wait.

#ledger joker #ledger joker x reader #joker smut #joker x y/n #joker #batman #dc comics #smut #black!fem!reader #reader insert #romance #slow burn #yandere #a03 writer #cross posted on AO3 #cross posted on wattpad #his lighthouse

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jarofstyles · 3 years

Note

For mafia harry, I just love the fact that’s he’s only soft for his girl. So something soft!!!! Plss n thxx

He’s literally so soft for her it’s ridiculous.

Warnings: fluff, talk of murder, mafia type stuff

Check out our Patreon!

—-

It wasn’t uncommon for Harry to come home with bruised knuckles. While he tended to have his men take care of business, he couldn’t help but be hands on sometimes.

When it came to certain motherfuckers, he truly couldn’t help but get in on the action and keep his name at the top of the’ who not to mess with’ list.

But his one and true weakness was sleepy eyed and soft as she stepped into his arms. He had gotten home from some business only an hour ago and put on the coffee pot. Being out all night was not ideal in the slightest, mainly because he had Y/N at home. Before meeting her he could go days at a time without sleep, without even being home. But having a woman he loved so deeply in his bed, who truly adored him and looked past his very unusual career path. She was so giving to him, with her time, energy, body, affection. He had hit the jackpot when it came to women and he knew all to well. So did anyone else.

It took a lot to get a man like Harry soft. He was hard and jagged around the edges. Throwing a punch or getting rid of someone wasn’t a big deal to him. Then Y/N stumbled into his life by accident and he found the heart he had covered with ice melted into a puddle of mush that she hand shaped in her own form. It was comical at times to see his attitude change when she would walk into the room.

“H?” She whispered sleepily. She shouldn’t be awake, but her body had somehow known her hero was home. While Y/N was well aware of his faults and his dangerous job and tendencies? He fiercely protected and cared for her. Provided for her. Gave her a home and a best friend and loved wrapped into one. No one was perfect, but Harry was perfect for her. “Where were you all night?” His stomach twinged with guilt as he pulled her into his chest, large hand cupping the back of her head and keeping her body close to his.

“M’so sorry, angel.” He whispered, pressing multiple kisses to her hairline. “We found one of the rats.” He grumbled, making Y/N freeze. Her head pulled up from his chest and her eyes were a dangerous glint. One that, quite frankly? Made him hard. As soft and gentle as Y/N is, she had come to take Harry and his men as family. You fuck with them? You fuck with her.

“And you took care of it?” Her tone was low, Harry still shocked at how fierce his little angel could be. How protective. She made them cookies and tea and brought sweets to the underground clubs, but was willing to put someone on their ass if they hurt Harry. It was fucking hot.

“Y’know I did, sweet girl. M’always taking care of my people.” He was cut off by her lips pressing to his jaw, her head tucking back into his neck. It was early and she hadn’t slept well. Y/N usually didn’t when it came to Harry being out and doing dangerous things. Her sleep schedule had been the worst it’s been since dating him, but it was the easiest sacrifice to make because she was getting to be in his arms. When he was home?

She got the best sleep of her entire life. Especially after getting dicked down.

“Know you do.” She relaxed, hand running over his broad back. The shirt was slightly damp form his sweat but she didn’t mind. The skin under was hot and it did get her mind going to think about how sexy he looked when he was mad. As long as it wasn’t at her? It went straight to her cunt.

Okay. Maybe even when it was at her. But it was very hard to make him angry at her. He was 100% a pushover for his girl. Y/N was the only one ever allowed to raise her voice at him.

The first time it had happened around others, they’d all nearly choked. Harry had ate the last of the cookie butter, which Y/N had been saving. It actually pissed her the fuck off, and not realizing he was in a meeting she had stormed down the hallway with her volume on 10. The girl wasn’t one too raise her voice often, but Harry knew how to push her buttons.

“Harry fucking Styles! You better hope to god you’re busy because I’m going to shove this jar up your ass!” She seethed, the stomping of her feet making everyone’s eyes widen. The men he worked closely with usually had a softer version of her. But it was earlier in the day, not their normal time, and gathered in the office in Harry’s large home.

Harry froze, realizing what it was and winced as he watched the door fly open. There, in all her big shirt, no pants and freshly woken glory was his beautiful Y/N. Empty jar in hand. Her eyes cut around the room but the fury she felt was too deep. This was personal!

Of course, they all were tense because No One talks to Harry Styles in a tone like that and got away with it. The shock that crossed their faces when Harry sheepishly got up and crossed the room, hushing her and trying to approach her like a wounded puppy was pure and utter insanity. The big man who always had a straight face, mean punches that knocked out cold, little regard for most people and took care of many a week was letting his woman talk to him like that.

“M’sorry, baby, I meant to get more but we called an emergency-“ he was cut off by a single hand raising, lips snapping closed as he watched his little love step closer to him.

“If you aren’t ready to go to Trader Joe’s in the next 15 minutes….” Her eyes narrowed. “You’ll be cut off.” And Harry knew exactly what that meant.

No sex.

There was no way he was risking that.

“Okay, okay.” He raised his own hands in surrender. “M’gonna finish up. Go get ready, we’ll take the Audi.”

They all learned that day that you didn’t mess with Y/N’s food, and Harry Styles only had one singular weakness.

Granted, Harry never was ashamed of it. He always said that his woman was half of his strength. She didn’t need him, but he needed her. Harry loved her so wholly and deeply that he knew that she was it for him. He had bought an engagement ring only 2 months in. So no, he didn’t ever deny it.

If anyone ever tried to use Y/N against him, they ended up in the river. Or in several pieces. He had very little restraint over that, considering all threats he took very, very seriously. The one light in his life was something he kept close, protected, and loved.

“Why don’t we go shower n’then we sleep? Hm? M’sorry to keep you up late, angel.” He puckered his lips down at her to be met with a soft peck, nodding her head at the idea. “And then we can make some ‘brunch’, whatever you call it.”

It got a laugh out of her, so he considered it a win.

“Mhm. If you thought I was letting you into our clean sheets smelling like guns and sweat. It’s sexy for dirty sheets but I’m simply too tired. Got the new ones I got online too.” She sighed, playfully teasing him because she knew it would get him to smile. He saw horrors every day, and if she could get some silliness in him it would lessen his stress.

“Oi. Don’t be callin’ me smelly, little girl.” He pinched her cheek, obnoxious kissing her mouth. “Better get your ass up there and get naked so we can pass out. M’Gonna need those pretty hands helping me wash, I fear… I’m a dead man walking.” He was dramatic, obviously overtired and it got a giggle from her.

“In your dreams, Mafia Man. Let’s move.”

“You’re right, I do dream about that.”

#writing #harry styles one shot #jarofstyles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #mafia harry #mafiarry #mafia Harry styles #gangrry #gang!harry #gang Harry styles #blurb #blurbs #fluff blurbs #Harry Styles blurbs

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purplekiwis · 3 years

Note

subrry idea. It's harry's birthday so he shaves and cleans up because he wants to be fingered and he's all excited because you guys haven't done that for a long time because you've been too busy. But then you come home and he notices your new fake nails and he gets all sad and pouty and you ask him why and he says "just wanted you to finger fuck me for my birthday but you can't with those on" then you go in to the bathroom and remove them however you do that idk and he's all happy and spreads himself out for you and all night you're fucking him open

subrry blurb: make it good. make it messy.

Thank you lovely anon! 💌 This prompt was so much fun to work on 😈

Warnings: Smut, Cursing, Mild Angst, Fluff

Wordcount: 4k

Y/N has always been a very loving Dom.

It's true, she really has... she loves to cuddle, make little surprises, give kisses... but when it comes to Harry, she truly believes she's the worst she's ever been.

Way too yielding. Way too giving. Way too permissive.

She doesn't ever take away his orgasms, much less comfort gestures, like kisses and cuddles... unless she's legitimately upset at him, of course... but Harry is usually a very nice partner, so they never really get into serious arguments or give each other the silent treatment.

It has worked for them so far… although Y/N still makes sure to keep an attentive eye on Harry, because he has a tendency to push his own limits and to not be too vocal about his discomfort. Especially when he gets in a more vulnerable headspace. He doesn't do it on purpose... he does it because he wants to be good, and because the trauma from his past relationship sometimes still makes him believe Y/N will leave him if he doesn't go along with every single thing she says.

Leaving him for something like that would never even cross her mind, obviously... but Harry is still healing and learning that his comfort, happiness and opinions should be just as important as his Dom's.

He's made wonderful progress since they first met... He has stopped measuring his words, doesn't think he'll get punished for being needy or asking for attention anymore, and has even stopped expecting Y/N to get angry for the smallest reasons...

But sometimes he still has slips...

Where he starts to shrink and retreat into himself like he used to do around his ex-girlfriend, Ava.

Ava was the reason Y/N got to meet Harry, actually.

The two girls had connected through a BDSM dating site many moons ago. At the time, Y/N hadn't been looking for any sort of arrangement. She had just left one, therefore she was only looking to meet nice people with alike minds she could have interesting conversations with. And, perhaps the occasional sexcapade, if things worked out that way, but she didn't really have any expectations...

Until she met Ava and Harry.

They seemed fun. Both were very attractive, lived relatively close by... and coincidentally happened to be looking for someone to join them for a little fun.

They had arranged a meeting through Skype first. Originally just for a friendly night chat, but then of course... one suggestive joke led to another, and things ended up getting a little steamy in front of their webcams.

They still did the videocall sex thing a few more times, until Ava finally invited Y/N to come "have a drink and hang out" with them at her apartment one Friday night.

And although upon meeting Ava and Harry in person, Y/N couldn't help but sense something might be little off with them as a couple, she had decided not to focus on it too much. Whatever it was, it didn't make her feel unsafe in their company, nor did it reflect itself on the sex they ended up having... and that was all Y/N was there for.

She just wanted a free and easy night.

A couple of drinks... a nice chat, and a long overdue fuck that wouldn't make her feel guilty about leaving right after the deed was done...

She should have known better.

“I'm gonna go for a smoke in the balcony.” Ava had said, jumping off the bed where she had been laying down, putting on a black silky robe and fishing her pack of cigarettes from her purse. “Care to join me, Y/N?”

“Uh... sure, but-” Y/N's eyes drifted between Ava and her partner. “...What about your boyfriend?” She questioned, finding her proposition a bit odd given the fact that being left alone after a scene was something that would be very triggering for most Subs. Especially if they turned out to experience a Sub-drop.

“He doesn't smoke.” Ava said nonchalantly.

“Yeah, but aren't you gonna like-” Y/N began to question, but then realized that maybe inviting her for a smoke was Ava's way of politely inviting her out of the room. Then maybe she would pretend to have forgotten her lighter or something and come back to take care of her boyfriend. “I don't mind leaving right away or stepping outside to give you guys some alone time... I know it's always a bit awkward to go through these things with someone else around…”

Ava rolled her eyes, scoffing some. “You lot and those stupid aftercare routines. He's an adult. Doesn't need to be spoiled and babied any more than he already was” The girl said as she headed for the door. “Are you not coming?” She still asked from the threshold.

“Uh, I think I'm just going to head home. Thanks for offering though.” Y/N faked a smile, reaching to collect her underwear from the floor.

And just like that, Ava left. Leaving a very fragile looking Harry on the bed, and a very upset Y/N kneeling next to her underwear on the floor with furrowed brows, bewildered at the utter carelessness the girl was showing.

Y/N didn't like that attitude.

What kind of Dom thinks like that about their Sub? She wasn't doing aftercare? She was just using his body as she pleased, calling him all those degrading mean names Y/N was never truly a fan of and leaving him to get over it? Even worse, she left him alone with a guest he'd just met and more likely than not made him feel uneasy to a degree.

Y/N didn't like this Ava girl at all.

And although she usually knew better than to overstep into another couple's dynamic, on that specific occasion she couldn't not.

As a Dom, Y/N had a very protective and caring personality... she liked to play mean, sure - but truly, she was the farthest thing from that... what made it impossible for her to stick to the original plan (get fucked, get dressed, and get going) knowing that there was a very sweet looking boy coiled in bed, probably feeling used and neglected with his own cum and both her and another girl's juices still all over his skin. “Harry... do you know where Ava keeps her wipes?” Y/N asked softly, kneeling by the bedside.

He didn't respond, just pointed towards the dressing table. After spotting the package right away, perched next a make-up bag, Y/N took it, having a sit next to Harry. “I want to help you clean up, is that okay?” She asked upon noticing his confused staring. “Would you like that? or do you prefer for me not to touch? I can leave, if you want me to.”

“I don't want to annoy you.” He replied in a low grumble. “Ava says I'm annoying when I ask her not to leave.”

“Does she?” Y/N's brows rose slightly. Not that she was that surprised, but it was still disconcerting to hear. “I don't think you're annoying, Harry. I think that's a very sweet thing to ask...” Y/N said as she wiped his face gently. “I also think it's very- Oh! I'm sorry...” She apologized once he squirmed suddenly, right when she started cleaning him a bit further down his stomach. “These always feel so cold, don't they? Here-” Y/N said, warming up the wipe between her hands before taking it to his skin again. The gesture got Harry to smile a bit. “Better?”

“Mhm, better.” He nodded, eyes fixed where Y/N was carefully wiping him clean. “Do you always do that? With your Subs?”

“I'm not seeing anyone at the moment, but if I was then yes, I would.” She told earnestly, getting up to dispose of the wipes in the room's paper basket before she walked back and adjusted the bedding around Harry's body for warmth and comfort. He was looking at her mesmerized. Pretty green eyes glowing like he was in the presence of an angel. “Something tells me you don’t get this often, do you?” Y/N asked, combing her fingers through Harry's curls.

Her heart clenched when he shook his head, looking away. Gosh... she wanted to cuddle him. She wanted to kiss and cuddle him so bad... which was wrong. She knew, but how could she not want to?

“I like your hair. It's really soft... and pretty.” Y/N commented, trying to shake her highly innapropriate wants away.

Harry's eyelids fluttered open at the sound of her voice. Poor thing was almost asleep, despite having been trying his hardest to stay put. “It's okay, you can sleep. I'm sure Ava is almost back from her cig- ” Y/N's mouth fell shut mid-sentence, once her ears began to descry what sounded like a shower starting to run. “...Maybe not.”

“Stay, please?” Harry pleaded sleepily, completely oblivious to the fact that Y/N's only reason for wanting to leave was that she was starting to get goosebumps from staring at him. This is exactly why she didn't want to stay. She got attached too easily! Harry was cute and adorable like a puppy.... and she'd always had this stupid, annoying tendency to fall for vulnerable people in knotty situations. She's googled it before... turns out it's a real thing called “the white knight syndrome”, but thankfully hers just scratches the surface... or at least that's what she's choosing to believe.

“I'm staying until she comes back... don't worry. I won't leave you alone.” The girl assured, snuggling on the bed just so she could cuddle his body from outside the blankets.

Harry's body caved into slumber under her touch. Satisfied even with the fabric layers keeping their skins from touching... and after a while, lulled by his steady breathing, Y/N too couldn't help falling asleep.

It goes without saying that when Ava came back, she didn't much like what she saw.

Which was legitimate, Y/N could give her that, what she couldn't get a hang of was why she had started yelling and accusing her of being a “homewrecker slut” who was trying to steal her boyfriend. She wasn't. It didn't even cross her mind... Y/N was just taking care of Harry because it was the minimum she could do. He deserved to feel safe and seen in his smallness, and since his partner was failing to provide that for him, Y/N felt the need to step in. If Ava hadn't been such a dismissive, shit Dom, this situation would have never happened.

After she got kicked out of the apartment, Y/N never had the intention of contacting either of them ever again... but she can't say she was entirely put off when Harry texted her months later asking if she would like to grab a coffee with him sometime.

She went. It was wonderful. They clicked right away... and things only got so much better on the second, third and all the dates that followed.

It's still crazy to think of it sometimes.

That the two are now living together... practically married.

There are very few things Y/N is sure of in her life, but the one she's most sure of is that she was somehow lucky enough to have met her person in that apartment 3 years before.

Harry is it for Y/N.

And she makes sure to remind him all the time, just so he never forgets just how much he is loved by her...

One other thing Y/N also makes sure to never let Harry forget, is how much of a brat he can be.

He'd been in a mood ever since she came back from her nail appointment that morning... Why? Fuck if she knew… all she knew was that it was pissing her right off.

The two of them were going to be hosting a dinner party for Harry’s birthday that evening, so naturally, Y/N had thought it to be the perfect excuse to do something different and fun with her nails for a change. She’d added a little more length than usual, and painted them a pretty, blueish grey color.

Y/N was over the moon with them. It's why as soon as she got home she went to search for Harry to show him... thinking he was going to love them just as much, since the pastel shades of blue always seemed to be his favorite. Only when she'd showed him, his body stiffed. He frowned a bit, glancing away as he told her they looked nice.

“You don't like them, do you?” Y/N insisted, spreading her fingers, and staring at her own nails.

“I do. They look very nice.” He'd replied pressingly, although the way he was avoiding her eyes said otherwise.

Y/N stared down at her nails again. They looked pretty. It was impossible for Harry to think they didn't. “Do you want me to paint yours too?” She proposed, guessing that perhaps he was upset because he wished he had gotten pretty nails for his birthday as well. He hadn't gotten them done in a while, and it was something you knew he enjoyed doing a lot more than he ever cared to admit. “I have new shimmers and colors from Essie to pick from...” She crooned persuasively, loosely slinging her arms around his hips to draw him closer.

“No, don’t bother... I don't really care to get my nails done for tonight.” Harry countered, tugging Y/N's hands off his body and warding off to another room of the house.

There was a puzzled grimace taking over her features as she watched him go.

Her fingers pressed together into clenched fists, feeling something wild beginning to bubble lightly in her veins. Part of her wanted to go after him, drag him to his knees by the hair and force him to use his mouth to wordlessly apologize for turning his back to her like that. But then again, she shouldn't. For multiple reasons:

1) He would probably enjoy that too much.

2) She wanted to save the sex stuff for later.

3) They were going to have people over in a couple of hours and there was still a lot of shit left to do.

With a huff, Y/N decided to let the attitude slide. Going in the kitchen instead to start moving things forward for that night’s dinner party. While preparing the elaborate marinade for her roast chicken, she made a mental reminder to book Harry a session as well next time she called the nail place for an appointment. Jealous little brat, he was...

Despite her firm belief that she had already figured what Harry's problem was, Y/N still tried to get him to tell her what was wrong a few times throughout the rest of the day… but any time she asked, he kept acting like he was never even upset in the first place.

And truly, he was convincing… Y/N might have even believed him, if only he hadn’t gone the whole dinner without paying her any attention. Actually, the only time he’d leaned for a kiss and hug was when she'd handed him the birthday gift she’d saved for the party (she’d gotten him others, but this was the one she had determined to be that year's main one). And yes, the fact that he’d kissed and hugged her could have soothed her nerves a bit… if only when she tried to hold his hand under the table right after, he hadn’t pulled away and said he didn’t feel like touching - despite the neediness in his eyes telling a very different story.

By the time everyone had finished dessert, Y/N had already realized that his moodiness couldn’t just be due to him being jealous of her manicure… and, she had also figured whatever it was couldn't be that serious of a matter... because apparently, he was in a great mood for everyone else!

It really felt like she was the only person he wasn't taking notice of. Which was driving her even madder... Not only because she had gotten him a delicious 8 layer red velvet birthday cake from his favorite bakery, spent all afternoon preparing a nice dinner for his party, and gifted him a fancy, personalized leather wallet engraved with his name on it (that, for the record... had cost way more than she'd ever be willing to spend on a purse for herself), but also because she had legitimately done nothing wrong!

Y/N was totally already beginning to lose her patience by then…

But the last straw had to be when she tried to grab his attention by lovingly scratching at his nape, only for him to roll his eyes at her and carry on talking to their friends.

That was it. She had officially lost it.

The first opportunity she caught him alone, Y/N grabbed his wrist and began to pull him towards the kitchen. Harry was already a little tipsy from the Sangria he’d been drinking, so he didn’t question it. He went with it easily, smiling and turning a deaf ear once their friends started bandying and making suggestive quips regarding where and what the two of them were off to.

Little did they know their dear friend was in for it… and definitely not in a good way.

For his and her sake, Y/N really was hoping he would drop the attitude as soon as they got to the kitchen... otherwise, he was quite likely about to get his ass spanked with a wooden spoon. Door open for everyone to see. “Just because I never took away your orgasms, doesn't mean I won't start now.” The girl stated, closing the door and shoving him by the collar against the pantry. “I don't give a fuck what day it is. You better tell me what has gotten into you once and for all before I make you cry real tears on your birthday.”

Harry was aroused by her tone; It was written all over his face...

That was why Y/N chose to finish her statement off by pressing her lips on his.

The contrast between the roughness of her words and affection turning her boyfriend into a mess of want and need. He practically moaned once her hands cupped his bum over his jeans. Her body keeping him pined against the pantry door as they made out in the kitchen like two teenagers sneaking away from a crowded house party. “I wanted you to finger me tonight...” Harry admitted in between kisses. The effects of the alcohol and despair finally loosening his tongue. “But you got the nails so now you can't. It's why I got all moody over them... 'cause it was my special day and I wasn't getting what I wanted... I'm sorry. I know it's stupid.”

“Your feelings aren't stupid, Harry. We've been over this...” Y/N chastised, pulling away to cradle his throat as she looked into his eyes. “You being bad and keeping them from me is, though... because now, once everyone leaves, you know what's going to happen don't you?” He pouted, pretending to be disheartened even though he was well aware Y/N's punishment threats held nothing but promises of a great, intense sex night for him. “Once they leave, I want you to go into our room and wait for me on the bed. You’ll have to wait for a little bit because there’s something I need to take care of first…” His lip immediately jutted out in protestation. He hated when Y/N made him wait for playtime. “Don’t you dare whine about it. I don’t want to hear it.” She shut him up, not giving him the chance to complain. “Or would you rather I shove a plug up your ass and leave you to think about what you did instead?” He shook his head quickly, face dropping at the prospect of spending the whole night plugged up with an achy prick. “You’ve been very bad, Harry. You’re lucky I’ve been dying to get in your pants all day, otherwise I would probably do just that. Needy brat.”

Harry was exceptionally good after their little encounter in the kitchen. A bit clingy, yes. But Y/N couldn't honestly say she minded it after he had mulishly kept her deprived of his affection for hours. It was like night and day. Once the needy puppy in him finally came out, he could no longer keep his hands off. Not in a overly naughty way, but enough to make it known to their visitors that the two of them were looking forward to some alone together time.

Just like she had said earlier, as soon as everyone left, Y/N sent Harry off to their bedroom. She walked inside with him, but while he layed on the bed fiddling with his phone, she locked herself in the bathroom and pulled out a nail clipper and file, to try to shorten and fix her nails. It wasn't going to be an easy task... and definitely very time consuming, since they were thick, gel nails. It's why she ended up saying “fuck it” and doing just the ones that would be needed for the situation.

And lord, it looked absolutely sinful...

There was really no room for doubt as to what kind of purpose Y/N had two shorter nails in her hand for. But little did she know that, in terms of sinfulness, her nails were nothing compared to the lascivious view she was about to be presented with as she walked back inside the room.

While she had been busy in the bathroom, Harry had apparently decided to switch his dinner clothes for a pajama t-shirt... and conveniently forgone everything else. No pants. No underwear.

He was laying on his belly, sprawled on top of the quilt with one of his legs bent at the knee, what cleverly accentuated each line and curve of his perfectly sculpted, currently hairless body.

Y/N didn’t mind when Harry didn't shave, she loved his body hair... but there was something so tempting about seeing him all smooth. Perhaps it was the naughtiness of it... knowing he had purposefully spent time shaving every single curve and bend, just so she couldn't keep from having her hands all over all the time. And acting all innocent on top of it… pretending to be asleep with his cock and bum fully out… fucking tease.

As Y/N settled on the bed beside him, her hand immediately went to cradle his ass. She wanted to spank it red, but Harry looked genuinely sleepy, and she didn't want to stir him awake abruptly like that. So, she leaned down, mouth searching for the crease of his neck so that she could kiss it all over as her hand rubbed at his ass cheeks. “What's all this, hm?” She asked, groping the mushy flesh in her hands, teasing it beneath her fingers. “So, this is why my good boy has been acting up all day... ‘cause he wanted me to pull his pants down and find this smooth little ass...” She gave it a firm slap, earning a soft, sleepy whimper from Harry. “Fuck me, look at these peachy cheeks... just begging for someone to take a big bite out of them...”

“I wasn't acting up...” He grumbled. The sound muffled by the pillow he was still pressing his face against.

“Liar.” Y/N chastised with another slap to his bum. “So you wanted to have your ass fucked for your birthday... such a little whore, making me give up my pretty nails so you can get what you want.” He didn't answer, just smirked against the pillow. “You're not going to answer me?” The smile on his face spread wider, as he wiggled his bum against her hand with a provoking little “Nuh-uh”. – “Oh, so you're still being a brat... that's okay, you know I'm always in the mood to give a good spanking.”

The next few minutes were filled with nothing but the repetitive noises Y/N's palm made with each smack to Harry's ass, and the soft cries and ‘uhs’ that followed them, escaping through his gritted teeth.

He had always been a sucker for a good spanking... Y/N on the other hand, was a sucker for seeing him wabble around the house avoiding certain seats the next day because his cheeks were still sensitive and aching. “What should I do with you now, hm?” Her hand dipped down to stroke his cock, that was pressed down between him and mattress. Poor baby… she had barely even started, but he had already gone so hard just from a couple of spanks that he couldn’t even lie down properly anymore. “…Could always go get that toy you like, I suppose…” Y/N wondered out loud, knowing it would make him gasp. “The thick, long one that always makes you tear up a little bit when I push in… ‘cause it’s just so big, isn’t it? But you always take it so well after, cum so good from it hitting all your spots…”

“No no no. Just your hands. Please just- give me your fingers. I don't want toys. Just want to take you. Make me full of you. Just want to be full with you.” He pleaded, twisting his neck back for her to kiss him.

She did, but not before taking her fingers to her mouth. Coating them with a generous amount of spit before bringing them back down to brush over his sensitive hole. The angsty moan that left Harry at the feeling was ripened into a pleased hum once she leaned in to connect her lips to his.

Whenever toys were involved, they always made sure to use a decent lube or glide, but right then... Y/N was far too in the moment to pause things, and Harry didn’t seem too keen on stopping to grab the bottle either. She pushed her fingers in slowly, drawing a breath once she felt his hole clenching tightly around her digits. “Are you okay? Do you want me to go get the lube?”

“No, please don’t stop. I can take it. Promise I can take it.” Upon his confirmation, her hand nudged even deeper. Searching for that sweet spot that never failed to make his toes curl. She kept their mouths pressed together as she fingered him at a slow pace, just so she could drink every single moan and whimper that left his lips. Planning to keep on kissing them from beginning to end.

He tried to roll on the bed to get a hold of his swollen cock, but Y/N didn’t let him. Slinging a leg around his waist to keep him lying on his belly. “Ah, ah! Don't even think about it, puppy. Focus on my fingers stretching you open. It's what you wanted, isn't it?” Harry nodded, biting his lip and pressing himself back against her hand. Fucking himself on her fingers. “It better be, 'cuz this is all you'll get tonight.” Harry moaned at that, pushing his bum up to give her better access. “That's right. I went and clipped off my pretty nails just so I could finger this greedy ass... least you can do is be a good boy and cum from it. Make it good too. Make it messy.”

#harry styles smut #subrry #sub harry #sub!harry #sub! harry #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb

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ijustwant2write · 3 years

Text

Runaway-Finn Shelby x Reader

(GIF credit to @dialnfornoir)

Masterlist

Summary: On her brisk walk home, (Y/N) witnesses a brutal Peaky Blinder attack, attempting to run away when Finn Shelby comes after her, only to sweep her off her feet.

Characters: Finn Shelby x Reader

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

(Y/L/N)=Your last name

Warnings: Violence, fighting, blood, fluff

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Come on (Y/N), not even one drink? We won't even make you stay, just the one!" my friend moaned as I denied their proposal of going to the Garrison.

"You said that last time, and I ended up staying until early hours." I laughed.

They all put their hands together as they started begging. I also laughed at this, embarrassed by the attention that was suddenly on us.

"No, seriously. I have to be good with money this month. Thanks to you lot, I'm having to be frugal for the rent."

They sighed."Fine, we won't make you come. But you will be missed. Just get home safe, OK?"

"I will. You too, please don't get too drunk and end up sleeping outside."

"That was one time!"

I shook my head as we giggled, waving goodbye when I turned to walk home. We had just finished work, so it was still relatively light out; I would say it was less dangerous to walk alone, but we did live in Small Heath. Yawning after the long, boring shift, I adjusted my coat around me, trying to keep warm. All I wanted was a good dinner, get cleaned up and snuggle into bed, maybe read a few chapters of the book I had if my eyelids could stay open. I was only in my early twenties and already feeling like an old woman.

Home wasn't far, a good twenty minute walk, which could be a bad thing if it was raining, a lovely stroll if not. I lived in the better part of Small Heath (if there even was one), walking home from work had never been an issue. Until I heard the unfamiliar sounds of desperate begging and crying, as well as thumps and slaps of skin of skin contact. My eyes widened, heart beat accelerating when I realised someone was begging for their life. There was no other way home for me, I had to take this route. What I should have done was turn around to join my friends for that drink, but the natural human tendency to be curious took over. As I cautiously continued my way home, I couldn't help but glance down the alleyway behind a row of houses, spotting four young boys surrounding an older man, who looked like he was being beaten to a pulp by one of them. I froze, having never seen a brawl like this up close. It was as if I were delayed, somehow taking ages to register that I had to leave before they spotted me.

Unfortunately one of their heads snapped up to look at me, tapping his friends on the shoulder, pointing at me as he shouted for them to stop. My legs still wouldn't move, staring at the man who's face was soaked red with his own blood. It wasn't until one of the young men started approaching me that I sprinted away, suddenly terrified about what could happen to me.

I cursed myself for being such a bad runner, as well as the shoes I was wearing. My lungs were working incredibly hard, my throat drying up whilst my mind panicked as it tried to remember which way was home. I let out a scream as the boy grabbed me, crying out in pain when they pushed me against the brick wall. Attempting to scramble out of their hold was useless, they were pushing their whole weight on me, I had no escape.

"(Y/N)?" he said my name.

My eyes widened, realising who had a hold of me. It was Finn Shelby.

"(Y/N) (Y/L/N)? We went to school together. You might not remember me, but we definitely did."

"Of course I remember you! You're Finn fucking Shelby.”

"Oh right."

"Please don't hurt me."

He looked confused."Hurt you? Why would I do that?"

"Well, you're currently pinning me against a wall, and I'm finding it a bit hard to breathe if I'm honest."

He glanced down, quickly pushing himself away from me. I tried to hide getting my breath back, letting out a quick cough. It seemed he wasn't going to hurt me, and he wasn't being sadistic about that phrase either.

"I'm sorry. You alright?"

I slowly nodded, still wanting to be on the safe side.

"I remember you from school. Obviously changed a lot, though I have seen you from time to time."

"Right."

"Look, uh, what you saw back there, I need you to forget it."

"Finn," I was scared to say his name but I did anyway,"you almost killed him."

"You know I'm a Peaky Blinder, right?"

"How could I not? And are you trying to justify what you did?"

"(Y/N), he ran a brothel using children."

"Oh."

"I mean, you couldn't have known that, so I can see how that looks from a different perspective."

"Well, I totally agree with your actions then."

"I still need you to keep quiet about the whole thing."

"Um, of course."

"Where were you headed?"

This was the longest conversation I had ever had with Finn, with a Peaky Blinder. I briefly remember him as a child, you never do have specific memories at such a young age, though I probably played with him during break time.

"Home."

"Let me walk you."

"No, honestly it's fine, it's not far."

"I insist. Part of my apology for scaring you earlier."

"Part of your apology?"

"Yeah, I'm taking you out for drinks tomorrow."

I started thinking I might have been in a dream."Sorry?"

"Do you always act this surprised at what people say? A catch up drink."

"That's alright, really, if you're trying to make it up to me-"

"Come on, just one?"

It was like deja vu.

"If you're busy tomorrow, we can always go tonight. Yeah, you know what? Let's do that instead!"

"No, Finn, really I'm fine."

"I won't take no. Please, it'll be nice, I promise all I'm asking for is a drink."

I felt obligated to go, still in a bit of shock from what happened. But my friends were at the Garrison, if they saw me with Finn they would think I was ditching them, and what would it look like for me to be walking in with a Shelby?! However, I felt bad when I saw how happy Finn was; and even if he tried anything later I would undoubtedly slap him, I wasn't afraid of that (I tried to convince myself). When I agreed, his smile grew even bigger, instantly heading towards the pub.

I was trying to focus on what he was babbling on about, only my mind was preoccupied with the dreaded stares of my friends. That was one fo the worst things you could do as a girl, ditch your friends for a boy. Then there would be questions about how I met him, why didn't I tell them, why didn't I bring him along to drinks etc. I'd look like any other desperate girl that tried to cling onto the arm of any Shelby, desperate for a taste of the dangerous, gangsta life, even if it was just for one night.

As we walked in, I felt sick, immediately spotting my friends on their usual table they always tried to grab. They hadn't seen me yet, so I attempted to hide behind Finn, keeping my head down as we stood at the bar.

Finn was served first before anyone else."Whiskey Harry, and you?"

"Um, wine please."

"Just put them through the window, yeah?"

I was confused when we walked to the private room, it felt like I was trespassing. Though this gave me a good hiding place from my friends, chancing to glance back at them before disappearing. They still hadn't seen me.

Finn casually sat down, looking relaxed. I stood, not sure whether to join him, which was a stupid thing to think when he had invited me.

"Are you going to stand there the whole time?" he chuckled.

I said nothing as I sat down opposite him, not wanting to become trapped in the booth with him. I still wasn't sure what to say once seated, hating that this could become awkward at any second.

"Are you OK? You seem a bit shaken up still." he asked.

"I'm fine." I squeaked out, knowing he could see right through me.

"You're all nervous, what's wrong?" he smirked.

I sighed."My friends are out there."

"Oh, well go tell them to join us."

"No!" I snapped too quickly."Look, I said no to drinks earlier, hence why I was on my way home, and I was scared what they would think or feel if they saw me waltz in with you."

"Don't want to be seen with a Blinder?"

"No, just didn't want them to think I chose a boy over my friends."

He gave me a pointed look.

"And I guess it would seem strange if I suddenly walked back in with a Blinder."

"Why did you say no in the first place?"

"Because money is tight. That was another reason I was hesitant to come, honest."

"You're not paying (Y/N)."

"Oh, Finn-"

"No, because I literally get this stuff for free." the small window into the room opened."Speaking of."

He reached over and grabbed our drinks, handing mine to me before clinking the glasses together. Unlike Finn, who threw the whole drink back, I sipped on my wine, and god was it good. He slammed the glass back down onto the table, letting out a satisfied breath.

"So what have you been up to since school?"

"Well, I've got a job at this clothes shop, you might have passed it but we only deal with women’s clothing, so I doubt you’ve been in. Uh, I actually started there as a shop assistant after I left school, you know, running errands and doing the little things no one else wanted to do. Then they started giving me proper jobs, I’m also a book keeper now and-” I glanced at Finn, realising that I was rambling,“-sorry, I’m talking too much.”

“No, no you’re not.” he chuckled, waving a hand in the air.

“Long story short, I work in a clothes shop. What about you?”

I closed my eyes as soon as I finished my sentence, wincing at my stupidity.

“I didn’t mean, I wasn’t trying to be smart or pry, obviously I know...no I don’t know...”

“You’re cute when you stumble over your words.”

I wasn’t expecting that.“E-excuse me?”

Before things could get any more awkward, the door opened, making us both jump. I felt my heart drop down into the pit of my stomach when I saw who it was, and I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me; his brothers were here.

“What the fuck are you doing in here Finn boy?”Arthur asked (if you didn’t know all their names, you had to be incredibly simple).

“Failing to get another bird in your bed?” John smirked.

“Shut up John.” Finn spat.“This is (Y/N), she’s an old friend from school.”

They filtered in. John scoffed.“Surprised you remember anything about school. Have you asked him what five pus five is?”

John and Arthur laughed as they sat down opposite us, Thomas standing besides the window for the drinks. I clasped my hands together as they started to shake out of nerves. I was in a room with the Shelby brothers, the men who ran one of the most feared gangs in England, and I had no clue what to do with myself.

“Um, I think I should go.” I pathetically mumbled out.

“Don’t be rude Finn,” Thomas said,“show the lovely, young lady out.”

Finn was glaring at his brothers as we stood. I slowed down my steps so I didn’t appear to be running away from them. Finn opened the door for me, and I felt weightless as soon as I stepped out of that room. He followed me out, running a hand down his face.

“I’m sorry about them. They’re just being their usual stupid selves.” he apologised.

“It’s alright, really. Don’t tell them they bothered me or anything because they really didn’t.”

“You don’t have to worry. They won’t do anything to you because we had a drink together.”

“Sorry, just not used to...”

“Meeting a gangster?”

I hummed in agreement.“Yeah.”

“Look, I definitely need to go back in there. But I liked this. Apart from how we bumped into each other.”

“Yes, that could have been different.”

“I would like to do this again though.”

“You would?”

“There you go again, acting all surprised. How about this weekend?”

“I-I’m free this weekend.”

“Great. I’ll pick you up at six on Saturday.” he smiled at me, turning to go back into the private room before calling the bartender.“Oh, Harry, another wine for my friend.”

He winked at me, then disappeared into the room. I heard heckling and teasing from his brothers. I could feel that my cheeks were heating up from blushing, though I also couldn’t help but smile. Thanking the bartender for the wine, I quickly took it, freezing when I saw my friends staring at me. Sighing, I took a big gulp of the drink before making my way towards them. This was going to be a longer night than I thought.

#finn shelby #finn shelby imagine #finn shelby imagines #finn shelby x reader #finn shelby one shot #finn shelby fanfic #finn shelby fan fic #finn shelby fanfiction #finn shelby fan fiction #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders one shot #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fan fic #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fan fiction

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watchmegetobsessed · 3 years

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Tastes Like Strawberries - Harry Styles

a/n: oh this one is a long boi and might not be the end??? i’ve been working on this fic for days and i have an idea for a possible second part, but i wrote this one so it has a fulfilling ending so it can stand as a oneshot as well! i barely just started working on the sequel, we’ll se how it’ll turn out, maybe it goes to shit lmao but whatever, it’s still a nice and whole story without a second part! this is my V-day gift to you all, have this nice professor!harry fic as if it was a box of chocolate! 🍓 🍫 🍬

special thanks to @pastequeharry who put up with my constant rambling and whining while i was writing this, you are a hero, his is dedicated to you!!

pairing: professor!Harry x Reader

warning: sexual content, abusing relationship, it’s got smut, angst, lot’s of banter and all that jazz!

word count: 21.4k

masterlist

There’s just a handful of things to know about Professor Harry Styles and that’s because of one of those very few known facts, the first one being that he is a highly private person. He rarely talks about himself or any aspects of his life, he always makes sure to keep it as professional as possible whenever he is teaching.

Second, he is easily the smartest professor to ever walk on campus, but he doesn’t like to brag about it. You never catch him showing off how much he knows, how big of a genius he is, you’ll just start to realize from the way he teaches and approaches certain topics, how he interacts with others and tries to pass his knowledge down to his students. He is brilliant and he should have all the credits for it, yet he still chooses to keep it to himself.

Third, and it’s the most well-known fact because to see this you just need to have a pair of eyes, he is undeniably the most handsome man to ever teach or if you’re being more precise, walk the hallways of the university. No football crazy, alcoholic fratboy or dreamy looking indie guy from the library can live up to what Professor Harry Styles is. With a face clearly carved by the angels, a nicely built but not too muscular frame, and occasionally displayed tattooed arm that makes you wonder what other artworks his stylish outfits are hiding, there’s no man like him and every female on campus agrees with that.

His lectures and courses are jampacked with sighing and heart-eyed college girls, daydreaming about the man who is solemnly just trying to teach the things he is so passionate about. But it’s not just the students, Professor Styles has managed to charm the female professors of all faculties, you can see them wander by his office way too often, they take any opportunity to talk to the man and try to seduce him. It’s unknown if he is oblivious to the effect he has on women or he chooses to ignore every and any attempts, but this is what leads us to the fourth fact.

Despite all the effort and energy that’s been put into his case by every single woman on campus to break the walls the professor has built around himself, he never let any of his students or colleagues to even think they could be romantically linked for real. Professor Styles keeps his distance and turns down any offer that could be mistaken to anything that doesn’t fit in the professional boundaries.

Anytime a student puts on the slightest flirtatious act towards the professor, he either rejects it straight away or ignores it completely and blatantly, making it his clear answer that he is not interested and then he goes back to teaching. You’ve seen it yourself, having him as one of your professors first year of uni, you fell for him just like every other girl in the lecture hall, dreaming about him in ways you probably shouldn’t think of a teacher while he was just casually talking about his grading system and how he is going to build up the lectures throughout the semester. Some brave girls who you assume were highly celebrated by boys in high school took the courage to openly flirt with him, but he didn’t even flinch before shutting all attempts down, not even a blush appeared on his perfectly cut cheekbones.

You thought of ways you’d try to seduce him yourself, but you never actually tried. You never had the balls to actually give it a go and then suffer from the worst embarrassment of your life when he rejects you. So you kept it all to yourself, only entertaining yourself with your elaborate plans about the seduction of your professor.

Second year passed without any classes with Professor Styles, you had only occasionally seen him come and go, rushing down the hallways holding his notebooks to his chest, a steaming cup of coffee in his other hand as he was heading to his lecture hall that you just knew was filled with girls. You always took a moment to yourself to admire his outfit. He has a tendency to pair odd items and make them look like the most put together fit ever that only he can pull off. However, you and your girlfriends always loved to tease him between each other for his grandpa-like sweaters and vests he seemed to love dearly.

“He confuses me, because I want him to fuck me on his desk but also, I feel like he is about to ask me what periodt means because he is too old to understand slang these days,” your friend, Nat said once when your little group was lounging under the huge oak tree between classes and the professor rushed past you, disappearing in the building without paying any of you a look. He wore a pair of beige slacks and a striped sweater, a wrinkly grey shirt peeking from under it at the bottom. The colors and the style overall once again gave you that old people feeling, but then you looked at his handsome face and couldn’t care any less about whatever he was wearing.

The most intimate way you ever saw him was a few days after your twenty-first birthday the summer before your last year of uni started. You just got back from your hometown, the first person to arrive back to your shared flat with Nat and Eden, so you had a few days on your own. You decided to redecorate your room so you took a trip to IKEA, taking your time looking through the set up rooms, just wandering around as you try to figure out what you really want to buy. Walking through the living room section you spotted the professor and first, you didn’t even recognize him.

He was wearing a pair of bright yellow shorts and a short sleeved shirt with floral prints on it, a pair of white framed sunglass on top of his head, keeping his unruly strands out of his face as he was eyeing a couch, seemingly deep in his thoughts. You stopped in your tracks, seeing him in such a casual and everyday setting. For some reason, he seemed like a completely different person.

A woman was there with him and as you walked closer you could hear a fraction of their discussion.

“I don’t know, Gems. Do I need a couch this big?”

“Looks comfy and I like the color. It would also fit in the space just right, I think you should get the bigger one if you have the space for it,” the woman put her two cents in and you wondered who she could be. Girlfriend? Just a casual friend? Maybe fiancé? She did have a ring that could easily go as an engagement ring so you couldn’t tell for sure.

As you were about to walk past you suddenly took the courage to say hi.

“Hello, Professor Styles!” you greeted him with a warm smile and his eyes flickered over to you from the couch in question. One thing you always admired about him is that he never forgot the faces of his students and as he looked at you, you knew he recognized you even if he didn’t know your name specifically.

“Oh, hello,” he nodded in your way.

“I like the couch,” you commented before slowly moving on. “Have a nice rest of your summer!”

“You too, Y/N,” he called after you and it took you by surprise that he remembered your name. Your lecture he taught had almost over a hundred students in it and you weren’t the most active one to stand out that easily, yet he still remembered you more than you were expecting.

That small encounter kept you thinking about him for way longer than you probably should have, especially because you knew you’d have a lecture with him again in the upcoming semester. Your daydreams about him made their way back into your mind as you spent the last days of your summer mostly with your friends. It got you thinking that if you managed to get him to remember your name, maybe you would give one of your plans a go and shoot your shot. He wouldn’t be teaching you in your last semester so you wouldn’t have to face him after he rejects you.

And this is how you came up with your little scheme.

On your last Sunday evening before school starts, you, Nat and Eden sit in the floor of your living room, drinking some white wine as a way of saying goodbye to the carefree summer moments and getting back to the working days of being a senior at uni. Professor Styles came up completely randomly and you let it slip that you’ve just seen him recently at IKEA with a woman and it all led to you admitting that you’ll finally shoot your shot at the professor. Nat and Eden both did the same already, however their attempts were completely ignored and they always bugged you to give it a try yourself, being the only one in your group who hasn’t tried to seduce the professor yet.

“I’ll tell you, but you can’t tell me it’s stupid because I actually think it’ll be funny and a little bit genius,” you tell them before you start sharing the details on your plan.

“Just spill the beans already!” Eden pokes you before she reaches for the bottle and refills her glass.

“Okay, so you both know I took this psychology class last semester for extra credits, right?” The nod and you continue. “The teacher told us about this thing called classical conditioning or they call it pavlovian response too. The guy, Pavlov, did an experiment where he paired the feeding of dogs with a bell ring and after a certain amount of time the dogs started salivating at just the sound of the bell, because they remembered that it’s connected to food. The teacher said this is literally one of the easiest tricks to pull on people.”

“Oh, isn’t this one of the things Jim did on Dwight in The Office?” Nat asks furrowing her eyebrows.

“It is!” you nod, glad that they are understanding the base of your plan. “So, I’ve heard that Professor Styles loves strawberry flavored candies. I thought that I would bring some every day when I see him and offer him some. Slowly, he’ll pair the candy with the thought of me and he’ll get excited when he sees me because he’ll think I have candy for him and it will hopefully work the other way around and he’ll think of me when he is eating strawberry flavored candy that’s not from me.”

Your friends blink at you for a moment, processing what you just shared with them before Eden takes a huge sip of her drink.

“This is the most ridiculous but also the most genius thing I’ve ever heard,” she nods holding her glass up towards you.

“I can’t believe you will pull a psychological experiment on Professor Styles,” Nat shakes her head with a soft chuckle.

“It’s not a blunt way to get closer to him and if he accuses me of trying to flirt I can just say that I’ve been only sharing candy with him, I literally did nothing,” you point out, pretty proud of your solution to your deep fear of having to take his rejection publicly.

“If you get a Noble for this shit, make sure to thank us in your speech,” Eden laughs and you promise to do so when the big moment comes.

Monday morning you make a quick trip to Target and buy a big bag of strawberry flavored candies, probably enough to last for the whole semester, and then you make your way to campus. Following your first lecture you meet up with Eden who also signed up for Professor Styles’ lecture this semester, so the two of you make your way towards the lecture hall together.

“I really can’t believe you are doing this,” she chuckles when you get the candy ready as you near the room. The professor is always the first one in the lecture hall so you know you’ll find him there already.

“You can’t tell me it’s not a funny plan,” you smirk at her. And just as you walk in, you immediately spot the professor sitting at the desk at the front, going over the syllabus before the start. “Save a seat for me,” you tell Eden who just laughs and makes her way up the stairs along the desks.

Grabbing the pack of sweets from your bag you walk up to the professor, feeling confident with your plan. He lifts his head up when he notices your arrival and your eyes meet with his green ones.

“Hello, professor. Would you like some candy?” you simply ask with an innocent smile.

Professor Styles stares at you for a moment before his eyes move down to the candy in your hand, the opening of the bag facing him in a welcoming manner.

“I, uhh… what flavor?” he curiously asks and you can barely push down your smirk.

“Strawberry.”

“Oh. I’ll… take one, thank you,” he nods, hand reaching into the bag as he grabs just one single candy, unwrapping the package before he pops it into his mouth. “Thank you,” he nods again with a delightful smile.

“Of course. Did you buy the couch?” you ask, taking slow steps away from the desk as he keeps his eyes on you.

“I… did not. Bought another one,” he admits shortly and you know you’ve reached the limit. If you ask more, he’ll get suspicious, so you just nod smiling before walking up to the spot Eden has reserved for you. When you sit down, you catch the professor paying you one last glance before he returns to what he was previously doing.

“You are a genius, because now we can watch him suck on a fucking candy for the next few minutes,” Eden mumbles quietly, making you laugh.

“I knew this would be a good plan,” you sigh, satisfied with the work you’ve done. Now it’s just a matter of time.

Every Monday and Wednesday, you arrive with the same bag of candy to the lecture hall, walk up to Professor Styles and offer him one. And he always takes one. The first few times he seems hesitant when he spots you approaching him, but he slowly grows used to your tiny act of kindness that occurs every time you see him. On week three you expand the plan. You usually have lunch with Nat on Thursdays since you both have a break between one and two pm. The two of you try to take advantage of the warm early autumn days and sit under the pergola that’s near the building where Professor Styles’ office is as well. It’s mere coincidence, you only like that place because it’s close to the lecture hall you have to go to after lunch, but you notice that the professor emerges from Building C around one thirty, walking back to his office probably after one of his classes. The sidewalk runs directly next to the pergola so it gives you a chance to bring the candy out one more time every week. You nicely greet him when he is nearing the two of you and then hold out the bag, asking if he wants some. He always takes one and thanks you with a sweet smile that leaves you a tad bit blushed.

“I can’t fucking believe your plan is working,” Nat chuckles in disbelief on one occasion when the professor just disappeared in the building, probably happily unwrapping his candy of the day.

“It’s funny, innit?” you grin at her proudly.

Frankly, this is just a fun experiment for you. You don’t actually think that the professor will think of you differently even the slightest. You might be able to plant the thought of you in his head, but that doesn’t instantly mean that he’ll start fancying you and actually do something about it. It would be ridiculously naïve to think it’s going to be you who breaks through the wall that hundreds of women had already tried to knock down.

Week six is what brings the breakthrough. After long consideration and discussion with Nat and Eden, you decide to test if the experiment has been successful. You offer one last candy on Monday, but Wednesday brings the change. You go to lecture without candy. Well, you have it on you, but you decide not to ask him if he wants some.

Walking into the lecture hall, as always, he is already sitting at his desk, flipping through the pages of a book when you walk up to him with the intention of asking him a question on the paper that’s due next week.

“Professor Styles?” you softly speak up, catching his attention. “Can I have a question about the paper?”

“Of course,” he nods and you can’t tell just yet if he was expecting the candy or not.

“I was wondering if I can use a diagram to visualize my results at the end. I have a brilliant idea to summarize the data with one.”

“Sure, just make sure to give credit wherever it’s due, if you are using someone else’s work for the diagram.”

“Definitely,” you smile at him and wait a moment. That’s where you see the anticipation in his eyes.

His gaze flickers down to your hands and then to your bag where you always carry the candy and when his eyes meet yours again, you see him swallow hard.

He was expecting the candy. Not only expecting, but he started salivating when he saw you, thinking that he would get the candy from you as always.

“Is… that all?” he asks, the slightest hint of hope appearing in his tone, probably waiting for you to pull the bag of candy out of your bag and offer him one. But it’s not happening today.

“Yes, thank you very much,” you nod smiling widely before you turn around and walk away, a shocked and triumphant look appearing on your face once he can’t see it anymore and when Eden sees you, she gasps.

“He fucking expected the candy, didn’t he?!” she whispers at you in shock and you nod frantically, still not believing your plan worked.

“You should have seen the anticipation in his eyes, he really thought I was gonna offer him some!”

“Oh my God, this is hilarious!” Eden laughs covering her mouth as the lecture hall starts to fill up slowly.

Turning forward, you see that the professor is sitting behind his desk, the book that had his attention before your arrival is long forgotten in front of him, now he is staring ahead of him with slightly furrowed eyebrows, deep in his thoughts.

Is he thinking about you? Or why he was expecting candy from you?

You see him reach for his water bottle and he takes two big gulps probably to wash away his need for the candy before he narrows his eyes and at last they find you in the auditorium. You tilt your head to the side innocently smiling, as if you know absolutely nothing about anything. You keep eye-contact, forcing you not to be the one who breaks it and he is intimidating. You feel like he can read your mind as he stares at you and when he finally turns his gaze back at the book, you exhale sharply.

The lecture goes down just as usual and when the professor dismisses the class you decide to put the cherry to the top. Walking down between the desks you grab a candy from your bag and while the professor is talking to a girl who also had a question about the paper, you place the candy to his desk next to his book. He doesn’t see you walk out and you don’t see him when he finds it, but something is telling you he figured you out. No way a man as smart as him doesn’t realize what game you’ve been playing with him.

Sitting under the pergola on Thursday you are deep in discussion with Nat, helping her with a task sheet she has to turn in after lunch but she completely forgot about it. As the two of you are trying to do the seemingly endless sheet, you don’t even notice the professor walking from Building C, as always, but he spots you.

“No, I don’t think that’s even a thing, you can’t write that,” you tell Nat, but she shakes her head.

“I don’t care if it’s a thing, I just want to fill in the whole thing so the teacher doesn’t think I finished it in twenty minutes before class,” she mumbles, scribbling down her answer as you just chuckle at her.

Suddenly, you see a pair of dusty Vans appear in your sight and as your eyes move up, you are facing none other than Professor Styles, standing right in front of you, holding out his hand with his hand turned upwards, a cheeky smile tugging on his lips. His appearance takes you by surprise and for a moment you just dumbly stare down at his palm, then up at his eyes.

“Very smart. Pulling a pavlovian on me with my favorite candy,” he speaks up, dropping his hand as he cocks his head to the side. Nat looks up from her sheet with wide eyes as you stare at the professor with blushing cheeks.

“I have no idea what you are talking about, professor,” you tell him with a knowing smirk.

“Of course. You know, it took me a moment to realize yesterday, but I wanted to let you know that… I think it was clever.”

“If I knew anything about what you’re talking about… I would say thank you. But I stand up for my innocence.”

“Surely,” he chuckles softy. “Have a great rest of your week,” he then nods before turning around to walk away, but you quickly reach into your bag and grab a candy.

“Professor Styles!” you call out and he turns back just in time to catch the candy you throw in his way. He glances at it in his palm before his eyes snap up to you again, smirking at you shortly before he disappears in the building.

“Okay, call me stupid, but I could feel the sexual tension between the two of you,” Nat says as soon as the professor is out of sight.

“Don’t be silly, it was just… a joke and he liked it.”

“He called you clever, Y/N!”

“No, he called my trick clever.”

“But you came up with it so you’re clever too. Say whatever you want, but I actually think you have a shot at him.”

“I definitely don’t,” you laugh shaking your head and you genuinely believe it. Nat scoffs before she gets back to her sheet, but not without having one last thought about the situation.

“We’ll be laughing at how you brainwashed him into liking you when you’ll be dating for years, living together and all that shit.”

You’ve made some very questionable choices in your dating life prior. Like when you dated a boy in high school and let him take your virginity at the back of his mom’s minivan just to break up with your right after that, or when you briefly dated the guy you met at the mall, but it later turned out he was gay and he used you as his cover up in front of his family. But the worst decision of all was dating an egoistic forty years old loser who just freshly got divorced and went after you at some tacky bar you were at with your friends.

The time you spent dating Victor is way less than the time he has been bothering you, trying to make you go back to him when you’ve actually told him you don’t want anything to do with him anymore. You broke up with him just before you went home for the summer and he didn’t take it well, even drove up to your hometown and showed up at your parents’ house drunk, begging for you to take him back. He never stood a chance, not after that one time he slapped you across the face during a fight the two of you had. You tolerate a lot of things but not violence and you don’t believe him when he says it was just a onetime thing. There’s no guarantee he won’t hit you ever again and you are definitely not waiting around to see if he told you the truth.

On this particular late October evening you are searching through your whole room looking for a book you know you have, but can’t seem to find anywhere. It’s your holy bible about research methodology and you need it for your thesis work, but it seems like the small apartment has completely swallowed it.

“Didn’t you leave it at Victor’s? You were working on that long essay when you were dating him, saw you use the book all the time,” Eden tells you when you ask her if she’s seen it anywhere and then it clicks.

She is right, now you remember leaving the book at his once and you completely forgot to pick it up after things got nasty between the two of you.

“Damn it,” you growl in annoyance.

Not feeling like calling him, you send him a quick text, hoping he still has it and hasn’t burned it after one of your fights.

Y/N: Hey, I think I left my research methodology book at yours. You still have it?

Victor: I do.

Y/N: Cool, can I drop by to pick it up?

Victor: I’m leaving for work, you can come to the bar if you want it.

You sigh in defeat. Victor is a bartender at a place that’s all the way across town, takes almost an entire hour to get there, but you are left with no other choice.

Y/N: Okay, I’ll see you there.

The raining has finally stopped this morning so you feel better leaving the house than you would have if it was still pouring. You take the bus and travel across town, feeling anxious to see Victor again. Last time you met him he cursed you out and threw his phone at you, barely missing your head. You promised yourself you wouldn’t go near him again after that, but it seems like you can never get completely rid of him.

Students rarely come to this part of the town, it’s way too far from campus and has nothing to offer that can’t be found closer to the dormitories or the school’s buildings. It’s not entirely your scene either, the bars around here are liked by older generations, not by people your age, this is another reason why you don’t like coming around here.

The bar where Victor works is a place where they have different local bands perform every Friday and Saturday. It’s not a tacky nook with creepy dudes, they actually have prices on the higher end, not something you can necessarily afford with your part time job’s paycheck from the small accounting office near your apartment where you work as an assistant on your free afternoons.

Walking into the place you immediately spot Victor behind the bar and you take a deep breath before you walk up to him.

“Hey,” you call out for him, taking one of the stools along the bar.

“Hey. Long time no see.”

“Happens when you break up with someone,” you respond with a little spice and he frowns at your words. “Can you give me the book?”

“I’ll have a break in ten, can you wait for that or you have something extra urgent shit to do, as always?” You can tell he is still bitter from how things ended between the two of you, but you’ve learned not to care about it. His way of dealing with the breakup is not your responsibility, no matter how hard he is trying to prove it wrong.

You roll your eyes but nod, knowing well there’s no use to fight him. Ten minutes is not the end of the world. Busying yourself on your phone, you try to stay unnoticed and luckily, Victor can’t keep chatting with you, because customers keep coming up to him and ordering drinks. When he finally has his break he tells you to follow him to the back.

“So how have you been?” he asks as you walk down the hallway that leads to the small break room, there’s an office at the end and some kind of changing room you guess for the bands, along with a storage.

“Fine.”

“You really gonna be a bitter bitch and not talk to me?” he asks you, giving you a disgusted look, but you know it’s just the anger talking from him.

“Victor, I didn’t come here to talk, I just need my book!”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t answer my question.”

“I answered it! I’ve been fine, now give me the damn book!” you growl, losing your patience with him, but he is seemingly in the same shoes.

“When will you stop being a bitch and just drop this ridiculous act, Y/N? I’ve been after you for months yet you keep ignoring me!”

“Did it ever occur to you that I’m ignoring you because I don’t want anything to do with you? Victor, it’s been months, just… move the fuck on! Go cry to your ex-wife or something, I don’t care!”

You didn’t mean to snap, but he always brings the worst out of you. From the corner of your eyes you can see movement at the other end of the hallway where the changing room is, but you don’t get to pay much attention to it, because the next moment Victor grabs you by your arm and yanks you towards him.

“Don’t fucking talk to me like that! You ungrateful slut, I swear…”

There’s little you can do, he is twice as big as you are, his grip on your arm so strong there’s no doubt it will leave a mark. Your heart is racing as you try to pull yourself out of his hold, but he doesn’t even bat an eye at your attempt.

However, before he could drag you into the empty breakroom to do god knows what, he is stopped by a voice.

“Hey! Let her go!”

If you weren’t shocked enough at his violent reaction, now you are definitely think you’re going nuts, because it’s none other than Professor Styles who is now nearing you with a hard expression on his face, two other guys following right behind him and though none of them are bigger than Victor, he knows he can’t just start a fight with three men.

Your chest is heaving when the professor finally reaches you and Victor’s hold lets go of you, making you fall back a little.

“You perform here twice and think you’re some kind of rockstar?” Victor spats at the professor, but you’re a little lost in what’s really going on. Professor Styles gently grabs your wrist and pulls you behind him, eyes never leaving Victor’s burning gaze.

“You alright?” one of the other two men asks and you nod, not finding your voice to actually speak.

“Get the hell out of my sight before I call the police on you,” the professor answers in a calm yet threatening voice

Victor takes a second to himself, thinking about the choices he has before he turns around and disappears in the breakroom, slamming the door behind him, leaving you in complete shock about what just happened.

Professor Styles then turns around, his eyes soften at seeing how shaken you are and quite frankly, you feel like you are in a bad and quite weird dream.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” he asks, clearly worried about you and you just shake your head no.

“I-I’m fine, I think,” you mumble out of breath.

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” the guy who asked if you’re alright suggests and you nod in agreement, following them kind of blindly, the three of them keeping you in their little circle as you walk out to the bar and they don’t stop until you are out of the place in the cold night air. You slowly come back to reality and process that Professor Styles just saved you out of fucking nowhere from your abusive asshole ex. That’s what you call a plot twist.

You finally take a moment to look at the other two guys, they both look the same age as the professor, or maybe a little older, both of them are rocking some facial hair, the one that asked you seems a little more open while the other one quite reserved but friendly looking.

“What… What were you doing back there?” you ask, turning to face the professor. He clearly seems upset, but you’re not sure if it’s entirely because of what happened with Victor back then or because you are standing outside some random bar on a Saturday night, definitely crossing his personal boundaries he keeps so high at school.

“We played here tonight, was just about to leave when I saw you.”

“You have a band?” you ask, shocked at the detail.

“A pretty good one,” the talkative guy chuckles. “I’m Adam, nice to meet you. This is Mitch.”

You shake hands with them introducing yourself as well.

“Y/N is… my student,” the professor adds as if he is clearing the air for his bandmates, a kind of warning for them.

From the direction of the parking lot two women emerge, laughing on something as they walk up to the four of you, both of them eyeing you curiously.

“Hey boys, who is this pretty girl?”

“Sarah, Charlotte, this is Y/N, she is my student. Y/N, these are my other band mates, Sarah and Charlotte,” the professor introduces you as you shake hands with them quickly.

“I-I’m sorry I interrupted your time with your friends, professor,” you shyly apologize, feeling like a complete intruder all of a sudden with all his bandmates around you.

“Interrupt? Sweetheart, that dude was about to do some unforgivable things to you, don’t apologize for needing help,” Adam snorts. “You’re lucky we were there.”

“What? What happened?” Sarah asks in confusion.

“Just… my asshole ex got a little too violent when I didn’t want to chit-chat with him,” you admit with a defeated sigh.

“Oh shit, but are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you smile faintly, though you still can feel his grip on your upper arm. “I, um… I better get going, I guess. Thank you for… the saving,” you say, a little lost about what should be said in this situation.

“You’re leaving? We were just about to go to a much better place, why don’t you come with us, forget about your ex a little?” Charlotte offers and you catch the professor’s panicked look for a split second.

“I, um… I don’t think I should, but thank you.”

“Why shouldn’t you?” Sarah questions.

“Because I know how Professor Styles hates to mingle with students outside of lectures and I don’t want to cross any lines,” you truthfully admit. The professor furrows his eyebrows.

“I don’t hate mingling with students,” he states.

“Well, you are surely not the most reachable professor on campus,” you chuckle lightly. “But it’s fine, I understand it. So I’ll just head home.”

“Come on, Harry. Let her tag along for just one drink!” Sarah begs and seemingly everyone would be happy to have you join for a little. The professor’s eyes meet yours, as if he is contemplating whether he should say yes or let you go home. When he finally speaks up you’re more surprised than when you realized it was him saving you from Victor.

“I guess you could use a drink after what happened in there,” he says, the tiniest smirk showing on his lips as your eyes shoot up.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, come on,” he nods and your little group heads down the street.

Turns out the place they were heading to was just two corners down, so they left all their stuff at the minivan at the parking lot for the time being. You slide into an empty booth, Adam and Mitch go to get the first round, so it’s just the three of you girls and the professor.

“So you’re in one of Harry’s lectures?” Charlotte asks with a warm smile.

“Yeah, for the second time, actually. Had him in first year, now it’s my fifth semester and I had no doubt I have to take his class if I have the chance.” You pay a glance at him, but he is staring at his hands on his lap, you can’t tell if it’s because he is uncomfortable with you there or if it’s something else.

“It’s so funny, because we’ve heard that he is known to be a good teacher but we never actually heard it from one of his students,” Sarah chuckles. “What’s he like?”

“Sarah, you enjoy talking about me when I’m very much present?” he scoffs, giving her a look, but she just shrugs innocently.

“Come on, I bet even you’re curious about what your students think of you. Now is your time to find it out!”

“I think Professor Styles knows very well that he is one of the best, if not the actual best,” you truthfully say and see him raise his eyebrows a little.

“What makes him so good?” Charlotte questions.

You glance at him again, as a way of asking for permission if you can answer. You definitely don’t want to make him even more uncomfortable by talking about him when he is right next to you. He looks into your eyes, and his expression tells you that he wants to hear your answer as well, but he quickly adds:

“You don’t have to answer, Y/N.”

“It’s not a secret,” you admit it with a smile. “Professor Styles’ lectures always leave you with a question to think about until next week, he is great at getting into your head without you even noticing. He explains the most complicated things in so simple ways, it should be taught,” you say with a soft chuckle. “I think his enormous knowledge about many different fields in science and just life in general is amusing, anyone can learn something from him, it’s guaranteed.”

“Wow, where is this academic genius side of yours when you’re around us, or we only get to see the dad joke version of you?” Sarah teases him and you can’t push down a laugh, imagining him cracking dad jokes feels so alien but still kind of fitting for him.

“That’s what you get when you’re a nosy little thing,” he retorts with a small smirk. He then turns to you, and as Sarah and Charlotte are laughing on something, he lowly tells you: “You can call me Harry outside of school. Feels weird that you call me professor when my friends are around.”

“You sure?”

He nods and you spot a small smile on his lips. He must be getting used to the feel of you being there, but you still don’t want to push his limits too much.

“Can I ask you something?” he questions, leaning back in his seat.

“Of course.”

“If your ex is this aggressive, why were you there with him?”

His question is surprising, you didn’t think he would ask you something personal, but you guess it’s a valid question after he just saved you from Victor.

“I wanted to get a book back that I left at his place. Didn’t even get to the point where he could have given it back,” you mumble under your breath.

“What book?”

“Just this… research methodology book, wanted it back for my thesis work, but I guess I’ll have to buy a new one,” you huff bitterly.

“Is it the one written by William Scott?”

“Y-Yeah, it is. You know it?” you ask, but then realize it’s a bit of a dumb question. He probably knows every academically important book you will ever come across.

“I actually have it myself,” he nods. Just then, Mitch and Adam return with the drinks and you thank them for the beer, already reaching for your money to pay, but Adam shakes his head.

“It’s on me, don’t worry.”

You watch as Mitch sits beside Sarah, curling an arm around her shoulders and though you couldn’t have guessed that they are a couple, seeing them like this it actually makes sense, they look cute together.

You take a sip from your beer, trying to join the conversation Sarah and Charlotte are having, when your attention is pulled back by Harry.

“I can… lend you the book, if you want.”

“Oh, you don’t have to. I’ll just get a new one.”

“No, really. I think I even have two copies, I can give one to you.”

“I couldn’t ask you that, prof—I mean Harry.”

“You’re not asking,” he smiles at you softly. “I probably won’t need both, so why not put the extra into use?”

“Okay, but I’ll pay for it,” you insist, but Harry shakes his head.

“No need, one of them was a gift so I didn’t pay for it either.”

“Well… if you’re sure about it, I would love to have that extra copy, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“So Y/N, what do you study exactly?” Adam questions, pulling you out of your little discussion with Harry.

“I’m majoring in anthropology, but I’ve been taking some psychology classes on the side just because I’m interested in the topics.”

“And what is Harry teaching you?”

“Had him for intro Sociology lecture first year, now I’m in his Methodology of Cultural Anthropology class.”

“All these subjects with their GY endings, I don’t know how you two put up with science on this level,” Sarah huffs in amusement.

“The names sometimes sound fancier than the subject itself,” you tell her smiling.

“But I bet you need to be quite smart to study these stuff on this level you are at.”

“Oh, it’s just a bachelorette degree, I wouldn’t say I’m that smart,” you chuckle shyly.

“She is totally toning it down,” Harry speaks up, catching everyone’s attention. “I know students tend to take my into Sociology class for just some extra credits so I always give them two options for the semester. They can either write a two pages long review of any article related to the topics talked about at lecture and get their strong C with the bare minimum, or actually participate and do a research of their own and turn in an at least seven pages long essay about their chosen topic. Y/N turned in an eleven pages long paper on the history of death sentences in the U.S. in the last fifty years and how society is thinking about it nowadays. It was easily one of the best works I’ve ever read and it was just an intro class.”

“You remember my essay?” you ask in complete shock.

“Of course. As I said, one of the bests I’ve read,” he nods confidently.

“So you’re like… on Harry’s smart level, actually?” Sarah asks, tilting her head to the side and you can feel yourself blushing.

You’ve always been said to be the smart kid at school, but you never thought it to be true yourself. In your book, you were just doing your absolute best, soaking in whatever knowledge was thrown in your way. You never actually understood how someone could just not study for an exam or not do an assignment, because you always felt like it was your duty to do the best you can. You thought yourself to be more of a hard-working student rather than a smart one.

“She is definitely a bright one,” Harry agrees, his eyes meeting yours as a small smile appears on his lips and you think that this is the biggest compliment you’ve ever gotten. “She actually tricked me with a psychological experiment and I didn’t even realize it,” he laughs and you can’t hold your smirk back.

“What? What did you do?” Charlotte asks, dying to know how you played Harry.

“Have you heard of the Pavlovian response?” you ask looking around and you can tell it rings a bell for all of them.

“The one with the dogs and the bell?” Mitch asks and you nod.

“Wait you did that on Harry?” Adam laughs with wide eyes and you just nod with a sly smile.

“I just offered him strawberry flavored candies every time I saw him. Took me six weeks to build up the response but he actually started expecting it whenever he saw me,” you tell them chuckling to yourself.

“And I only realized it when she stopped with the candy and I felt this massive feeling that something was missing,” Harry adds shaking his head with a soft laugh.

“Okay, that’s hilarious,” Sarah snorts clapping her hands together. “Y/N, I adore you, you’re brilliant!”

“It was just… an experiment,” you shrug shyly.

The night carries much faster than you realize. One drink turns into three and before you could realize, it’s already past midnight. Eden texts you, asking where you are since you said you’d just get the book and go home right away, but it’s been hours.

Y/N: Don’t freak out, but I’m at a bar with Prof. Styles and his friends. I’ll tell you everything tomorrow!

Eden: HOW DO YOU EXPECT ME NOT TO FREAK OUT AFTER READING THIS???!?!

Y/N: Lol, chill. Nothing extra is happening.

Eden: It’s already extra that you’re out with him.

Realizing how late it is, you decide you better get going, since it’s a long way back home. When you tell the little group that you’re about to head out, they all agree that it’s time to part ways and leave, so you all slowly make your way back to the parking lot.

“Do you know where the bus stop is back?” you ask, narrowing your eyes, trying to spot where you should be heading.

“You want to go home by bus at this time?” Harry asks.

“Well, I surely won’t pay for a ride, I live almost an hour away from here.”

“An hour?” he frowns. “I’ll take you home, come on,” he tells you, heading towards the minivan.

“What? No need. The bus is fine,” you protest, but he shakes his head.

“You are not taking the bus at this hour, not under my watch,” he simply states and you raise your eyebrows at him.

“Didn’t realize I was under your watch,” you tease him and it seems like your comment caught him off-guard. “Don’t piss your pants, I was just joking,” you tell him, and thought for a second you feel like you are being way too comfortable around him, his smile quickly smashes your doubts.

Sarah, Mitch and Charlotte all take an Uber since they live near each other and Adam is picked up by his wife, so when everyone is off to their own way, you and Harry get in the van and head to your place.

“How long have you had the band?” you ask, in need to break the silence that’s been weighing down on the two of you. “If you don’t mind me asking,” you add quickly when you see him.

“About four years. Used to have another one, but we parted ways.”

“And what do you do in the band?”

“I, uhh… Well I mostly sing but I also play the guitar.”

“You know, I’m not that surprised you can sing,” you chuckle to yourself sinking further down in your seat.

“How come?”

“You have a voice that’s great to listen to at lectures, makes sense that you can sing as well.”

You take a moment to look at his hand that’s gripping the steering wheel, he is the kind that drives with one hand on the wheel, the other one on the shifting gear. He makes it look so easy as he steers the wheel whenever he is turning a corner while his other one easily moves around the shifting gear, his tattoos are peeking from under his rolled up shirt sleeve. He catches you staring and you feel a blush burning on your cheeks as you turn your head to the other side. Maybe you shouldn’t have drunk that third beer…

“Am I really seen that rigid by the students?” he speaks up after a while and you turn back to face him.

“What do you mean?”

“You said I’m known about not mingling with students.”

“Well, you don’t mingle, do you? But it doesn’t mean you come off as rigid. More like… closed-off. Private.”

“I know I should be a little friendlier, but I just…”

“You don’t have to explain yourself, I think everyone gets it why you’re like that.”

“Do they?” he arches an eyebrow.

“Well, you’re obviously a ladies’ favorite, but it doesn’t sit well with you being a person of some sort of power. It’s clear that you don’t want anyone to get the wrong picture about you. I’ve seen how bluntly girls are flirting with you, some of them are quite scandalous if you ask me,” you huff to yourself. “I totally get it that you don’t want even just a rumor to spread about you.”

“Didn’t think I was that obvious,” he admits, running his tongue over his lips.

“Don’t worry about it, you’re still a highly fancied professor, in all means,” you tell him with a warm smile.

“Does this mean you also fancy me?” he suddenly questions and your lips part at his words. He quickly realizes how ambiguous he just sounded. “I mean, am I one of your favorites? Where do I stand in your chart of professors?”

You can’t tell for sure because of the lack of lighting, but you could have sworn there’s a light blush on his cheeks as he corrects himself. Because of this, you don’t know for sure if he really meant it academically. Either way, the answer is the same.

“You’re my favorite,” you confidently state and your eyes meet for a moment before he turns back to face the road.

The rest of the ride is pretty quiet, you keep giving him directions to your place until you finally arrive a little before one am.

“Well, thank you for the ride,” you smile at him, grabbing the door handle.

“See you on Monday,” he nods shortly and watches as you get out of the can.

“Yeah, see you, professor,” you smirk before shutting the door and walking up the stairs and disappearing in your building.

“Was that Professor Styles in the fucking minivan?!” Nat throws the question at you the moment you open the front door.

“Jesus, why are you still up?” you sigh, shutting the door and shimmying yourself out of your coat.

“Because we were waiting for you!” Eden rolls her eyes. “So, care to tell us what the fuck just happened?” The three of you get comfortable on the couch and you give them a quick rundown of your evening from meeting Victor through being saved by Harry right to him offering to drive you home and they listen to you with wide eyes in complete shock that you just spent your entire evening with the most handsome professor on campus who also happens to be the most private as well.

“If I didn’t see him sitting in that van with my own eyes I would straight up think you’re lying, but I saw his tattooed hand over the windshield,” Nat gasps, processing the story.

“I know, I still feel like it didn’t happen, but it did.”

“And what is he like around his friends? What are his friends like?” Eden questions, hugging her knees to her chest.

“He is pretty much just like in lecture, just jokes a little more and he has a looser vocab. His friends are hilarious, I really got along with Sarah.”

“I know you still think it won’t happen, but I actually think you have a shot at him, Y/N,” Eden points it out and you just chuckle.

“Why, because he saved me from my douche ex?”

“No, because he let you stay for the night with him and his friends. This is literally the first ever time a student hung out with him.”

“It’s not that big of a deal, Harry is a reserved and private person—“

“Harry?!” they gasp at the same time.

“You are now just casually calling him Harry?” Nat asks with ogling eyes.

“Well, yes, he asked me to, because it felt weird that I was calling him Professor Styles with his friends around.”

“Okay, I’m giving it… let’s say, he seems to be moving pretty slow, but y’all will be fucking in about six months,” Nat bluntly tells you and it makes you laugh.

“Oh, sure, whatever. I’m gonna shower and head to bed, you two don’t get too crazy with your fairytales,” you wave at them before disappearing in the bathroom.

The rest of the weekend goes by uneventfully, outside of the pathetic attempt from Victor to get you to talk to him, but you’ve had enough of him for a life so you finally block his number and hope you won’t ever see him again.

Both you and Eden oversleep on Monday morning, skipping your early morning lecture and already being late for Harry’s class as well, so you barely make it to Harry’s class in time, just sprinting up the rows, flopping down to your usual seats when Harry starts the lecture. It all goes as usual as if nothing really happened during the weekend, Harry doesn’t seem to be bothered by it at all. Glancing over at his desk you spot the book he promised you and you can’t hold your smile back. Still grinning, your eyes accidentally meet with his gaze and he stops for a heartbeat as if he is questioning why you are so smiley, but you just shake your head and he carries on before anyone could suspect a thing.

“I gotta run, my favorite TA is having his office hours now and I have a few questions for him. See you at home?” Eden asks once the lecture is over and you are getting ready to leave.

“Sure, have a good day!” you call after her and she sings a ‘you too!’ before running out of the room.

You pack up and head down between the rows, Harry spotting you right away and you go up to him without him even asking you to.

“Hey, sorry we were a little late to class this morning,” you tell him and he just shakes his head kindly.

“No worries. How… is your arm?” He furrows his eyebrows, his gaze wandering down to your forearm where Victor grabbed you on Saturday.

“Oh, it’s fine. I just have a little bruise,” you shrug, because it really isn’t that big deal, but you can tell Harry is still outraged by what happened.

“M’sorry about that.”

“It’s fine. Would be worse if you weren’t there,” you smile at him kindly and he nods to himself before turning to his desk.

“I, uhh, I brought the book we talked about,” he shyly says grabbing it from the desk. As people are exiting the room you can feel the glares on yourself, most of them are probably trying to figure out why Harry is talking to you for so long, but you don’t pay much attention to them as you take the book he hands you.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to pay for it?”

“No need, keep it, it’s yours,” he shakes his head with a small smile.

“Thank you then.” You slide the book into your bag before looking back up at him. “Well, I’ll see you on Wednesday, professor,” you smile warmly before heading out.

“See you!” he calls after you before you close the door behind you.

The week carries on as usual, you are working on papers that needs to be turned in before the fall break so you spend some extra time at the library, using every bit of free time you have so you finish everything on time.

Things go back to kind of normal with Harry, he greets you in the mornings when you walk into the lecture hall and other than the warm smile he occasionally gives you, nothing has changed.

Friday however brings a surprise, but not from Harry. You’re sitting at work in the afternoon, typing away on your computer, filling in some sheets when you get a notification on your phone from Instagram.

Sarah Jones is now following you!

You tap on her profile but see that it’s private so without a second thought you request following. Luckily, she approves you only a few seconds later and you gain access to her posts, quite a few of them featuring Harry on them.

Photos of birthdays, weekend getaways, band practices and performances, Harry makes a lot of appearances on her feed and you find yourself scrolling all the way down until you reach the first few posts from 2016. Just as you are about to leave her profile you get a message from her.

Sarah: Hey Y/N! Charlotte and I’ve been talking about you recently, loved having you with us last Saturday! Want to grab a drink with the two of us this weekend?

Y/N: Would love to, but I’m not sure Harry would like the idea…

Sarah: He won’t be there and besides, who is he to tell you who you can and can’t hang out with?

She is right. You enjoyed spending time with them as well and Harry has little to no word in if you want to meet up with his friends or not. This invitation has no connection to him being your professor.

Y/N: Alright, I’m down!

This is how your friendship with Sarah and Charlotte starts. You meet up with them on Saturday and have an amazing time, they are definitely fun people to spend time with and though at first you feel hesitant to get closer to them, you soon forget about your doubts and just enjoy your time with them.

Your little girls night goes so well that they invite you out for dinner on Wednesday with Mitch joining the little trio. You learn that he is a quiet but hilarious guy, he and Sarah make a great couple, you think.

“We have a gig this Saturday at Green Light, want to come?” Charlotte asks at the end of the dinner.

“Okay, I really don’t think Harry would be a fan of that idea,” you point out, feeling like it’s surely over the lines. He still doesn’t know about you meeting some of his friends without him and you’re not sure how he would react if he did.

“Harry can fuck off, not everything is about him. We are inviting you as our friends, he just happens to be in the band as well,” Sarah rolls her eyes, clearly not as bothered by the situation as you are.

“I just don’t want to make him uncomfortable.”

“He is a big boy, he’ll get himself over it, don’t worry. So, are you coming?”

“I guess, alright,” you nod with a soft chuckle.

Next week you contemplate telling Harry that Sarah invited you out for their gig, but at last you decide against it, something is telling you he would try to talk you down and now you’re pretty hyped to see them perform. So you keep quiet and just brace yourself for the worst when Saturday comes.

You don’t overdress for the occasion, decide to wear some light washed mom jeans and a simple sweater tucked into it, a casual look for a night out.

Even when you’re on your way to the place you are having second guesses whether it’s a good idea or not, but you tell yourself it’s not that big of a deal and if Harry flips, you’ll just tell him you came for Sarah and Charlotte.

As you get off the bus and walk towards the place, you immediately spot the little group of three next to Harry’s minivan, Sarah waving in your way as you become visible in the streetlights.

“There she is!” she beams happily and you just chuckle at her.

Harry is standing with his back facing your way but seeing Sarah’s reaction he turns around and you swear for a moment you think he is about to faint when he spots you.

“Hey everyone,” you smile as Sarah pulls you into a hug and Charlotte does the same.

“Hey, if it isn’t our little trouble seeker!” Adam teases you and you just roll your eyes at him before shyly glancing at Harry who is standing on your left, awfully quiet and deep in his thoughts since your arrival. He feels your eyes on him and his gaze meets yours and just by one look you can tell he is pissed.

Just as you thought.

The group chats a little longer outside before Adam suggests they head inside and get ready for their start and you are just about to follow them, but Harry keeps you back.

“Y/N, can we have a word?”

Staying back you nod, hiding your hands in your coat’s pockets as you look at him, lips curled into your mouth.

“What are you doing here?” he questions, eyebrows knitted together and he looks so damn intimidating, the neon lights from the front of the building tinting part of his face green, but you think red would suit him better with this look.

“I… came to see the band playing, what do you mean?”

“Is this your sneaky way of trying to come after me? Because I thought we had a very clear discussion about my thoughts regarding situations like this and you seemed to understand it.”

He comes off way angrier than you think he should be. Yes, it might be uncomfortable for him to see you here, but the tone he just hit is way too harsh for your liking and professor or not, you are not letting anyone talk to you like that when it’s completely not relevant.

“Okay, calm down. First of all, I was invited here.”

“By who?” he spats.

“Sarah and Charlotte, we met last weekend and had dinner this week as well. Had a great time and they asked me to come tonight as well, so get off of your high horse, I’m not here for you.” You can see the change on his face as the information sinks in and he realizes he accused you wrongly, but you’re not quite done with him. “But if I was here to see you, why does that bother you so much? You can’t avoid meeting students every minute when you’re off-campus. If I came here because of you, it shouldn’t affect you this much if you weren’t worried about something else than me just being here,” you point out and he furrows his eyebrows at you. “If I didn’t know better I would think you’re afraid to be around me because you actually like me, huh!” you tell him with an innocent yet suggesting look. His eyes widen and the confidence in himself quickly vanishes from him, replaced by anxiety and nervous looks as he realizes the meaning behind your words.

“I-I, that’s not—I’m not—“

“Take a breath before you pass out, Harry,” you sigh, dropping the hard act. “I didn’t come here for you and if you want to know I actually thought a lot about canceling because of you. But I genuinely like spending time with Sarah and Charlotte so I’m here as their friend.”

Harry stares back at you, completely defeated, regret filling his green eyes. You feel a little guilty for snapping so hard at him, after all you do understand his point of view, but you genuinely don’t think it’s as big of a deal as he makes it to be.

“I-I’m…”

“It’s fine, okay? Let’s just… move past it, alright?” you suggest and he nods as the two of you head inside, joining the rest of the group.

You stay behind while they are waiting for their time to perform, keeping some distance from Harry so he can’t accuse you again, but you occasionally look his way, catching him already looking at you, but you just can’t tell what could be possibly going on in his head. When it’s time for them to go on stage, you go out to the actual bar area and sit by the counter, not too much at the front but close enough to see everything that happens on the stage.

When they start playing you can’t take your eyes off Harry. His energy behind the microphone just knocks you off the stool and you watch him completely mesmerized as if he has put a spell on you. It feels like he turns into an entirely different person on stage, nothing like the man you see at lectures every Monday and Wednesday. He sings perfectly on key, putting some extra charm into the songs with his little additional tunes whenever he is not singing a line.

But what makes it absolutely impossible to look away from him is because he keeps staring at you, eyes locking with yours for way too long every time he catches your gaze. You try to ignore it, but it’s quite hard when his eyes are basically burning into you, it leaves you breathless.

Once the concert is over you order yourself two tequila shots quickly, because something is telling you that you’ll need the boosting if you want to face Harry after his little performance.

But for your surprise, when you join the band again and get near him, nothing really happens. It seems like Harry has come to peace with your presence in his little group of friends and he actually treats you like you’re part of the circle.

The six of you occupy a table at the back of the bar to spend there the rest of the evening and it’s all good, it seems. A harmless night out with a bunch of friends, nothing extra. Harry actually strikes up conversations with you involved and you feel like you’ve overcome a banter finally.

“Do you need a ride home?” Harry asks at the end of the night when everyone is about to head home.

“Only if it’s fine by you.”

“Wouldn’t offer it if it wasn’t,” he smiles shortly before the two of you say goodbye to the rest of the group and head to his van that was previously loaded with their stuff.

The ride back to your place is now much shorter, it takes less than ten minutes to arrive and you are just about to say goodbye when he speaks up.

“I want to apologize for the way I reacted to your arrival earlier tonight. It was… unnecessary.”

“It’s fine, I’m sorry for what I said after that too.”

“You shouldn’t be,” he shakes his head, staring down at his hands in his lap.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you shouldn’t be sorry for saying something that’s true.”

It feels like all air is knocked out of you as his words process and you stare at him with parted lips and raised eyebrows. When he finally looks up at you, he looks so lost and tortured, you feel the urge to hug him, but you stay still as he continues talking.

“I got mad because I do like you and seeing you outside of school is very… confusing for me. And this is why I’m gonna be very straightforward with you now. I can tell Sarah and Charlotte like you a lot and they are stubborn, they won’t see the situation from my point of view and I’m no one to tell you if you can hang out with us or not. But what I can most certainly tell you is that nothing will happen between us. I’m very serious about this, Y/N. You are very much welcomed to spend more time with us, but I want you to know that it won’t go further than this.”

For a couple of moments you’re only able to stare back at him, blinking completely frozen at his sudden confession. You could tell tonight has been a turning point of some kind, but you were not expecting this speech from him at all and now you are at a complete loss of words. It takes some time before you actually find your voice.

“Okay,” is all you can breathe out, nothing more, but it’s pretty much all you have to tell him. You won’t go against his will and force him to do something he doesn’t want. He deserves the respect.

He nods shortly, seemingly still very torn about the situation and you figure it’s better if you just leave now.

“Thank you for the ride,” you quietly tell him opening the door. “Good night.”

“Good night, Y/N,” you hear him before you shut the door and walk into your building, feeling like you’ve been just hit by a pile of bricks.

Unlike the last time when Harry brought you home, Nat and Eden are not waiting for you in the living room. Nat is probably already asleep and Eden went out for a date earlier and she hasn’t been back. You don’t bother to turn the lights on as you walk inside, just kick your boots off and hang your coat before collapsing onto the couch, just staring into the darkness, Harry’s words repeating in your head again and again.

“… I do like you and seeing you outside of school is very confusing for me.”

“… nothing will happen between us. I’m very serious about this, Y/N.”

“… but I want you to know that it won’t go further than this.”

Harry, your professor, The Harry Styles admitted that he likes you but also told you pretty forward that nothing is ever going to happen between the two of you. It still feels like a fever dream and you’re not sure how you are feeling about it just yet. Hanging out with him was already quite overwhelming, but you were not expecting this confession from him at all.

What are you supposed to do with this information? If he is so set on not taking any further steps, why did he even share it with you? He could have just easily keep his thoughts and feelings to himself and get away with it without you ever figuring it out. It doesn’t make sense.

For the first time in your life, something Harry Styles said doesn’t make sense. That’s new.

Following Harry’s confession you truly have no idea what to do, so you just go with the flow. He seemingly stays the same when it comes to you, friendly, but still keeping his distance. Nothing changes in the lecture hall, he just occasionally asks if you’re alright and you are guessing he only wants to know if you are having any trouble with Victor, but you haven’t even heard from him since you’ve blocked his number and you hope it’s going to stay like that.

You meet up with him and the band a few times outside of school and it’s not necessarily awkward, but you can tell he is keeping his distance from you, he never sits next to you or has one-on-one conversations with you, only if it’s necessary. The only time he dares to be alone with you is when he sometimes offers you to drive you home. You usually say no at first, but he insists, so you end up sitting in silence in the car until you arrive home, say goodbye and end of story.

No one in school even suspects that you’ve made your way into Harry’s group of friends, only Nat and Eden knows about it but they swore to keep it a secret, but you didn’t tell them about Harry’s confession. Whatever it is that’s happening between you and Harry, you would never put him into a situation he is trying to avoid so badly. You sit in his classes like everyone else, but while all the other girls are drooling over him, trying to get just slightly closer to him in any way possible, you sit in silence and think about the precious times when you get to see him outside of school.

Even with him being so distant towards you, you can’t help but slowly start falling for him. He doesn’t have to talk to you or be direct to you, it’s enough that you see him as himself, you see him with his friends, how he acts whenever he is not teaching, standing on the podium. And he is an amazing person, there’s no doubt about that.

The semester is gradually moving forward, once you get back from fall break, you basically move into the library, studying for your exams and finishing up all your papers. December arrives pretty fast and before you realize, the whole town is decorated with lights and Christmas trees everywhere, the shops are trying to lure customers in with all the sales and the Christmas shopping officially starts.

One weekend, when there’s only two weeks left of school before everyone heads home for the holidays, you and Nat go for a shopping trip, trying to buy every gift in time so you don’t have to worry about that at least last minute.

Wandering around the mall you naturally take a trip to the bookstore, always ready to buy something new to read. Nat dives into the cooking books wanting to get one for her mother while you’re just aimlessly looking through the shelves. As your eyes are running through the titles in the psychology department, you stop at one particular book, pulling it off the shelf as you can’t help but smile to yourself.

The secrets of Classical Conditioning.

You flip through the pages and though it doesn’t seem to be a groundbreaking work, it’s just explaining Pavlov’s experiment and further uses of it, you still decide to buy it.

That evening you sit at your desk, the book open in front of you, a pen next to it as you try to think of something to write into it. At first you just wanted to give it to Harry as it is, but you figured it would be a nice gesture to write a few words into it he could always read when he opens the book. After some consideration, you finally grab the pen and start writing.

Dear Harry,

I will always think of you whenever I hear of Mr. Ivan Petrovics Pavlov or Classical Conditioning. Thank you for another amazing semester and I’m happy I got to see you without standing on a podium. You are an amazing man, never change.

Happy holidays,

Y/N

Last week of school, you go to the Wednesday lecture, the last one of the semester with the book sitting in your bag. All through the 90 minutes class as Harry is having an open discussion about the lecture with the students, you keep debating whether you should give him the book or not. When the lecture is over and Harry wishes everyone happy holidays, you grab it from your bag and holding it to your chest you wait until there’s only a few people in the room. Eden has already left to hand in a paper so you walk down the rows on your own, eyes on the man behind his desk who is now packing up his papers and notes, getting ready to leave.

“Harry?” you faintly speak his name, grabbing his attention as he looks up at you from behind the desk. You glance down at the book in your hands and before you could change your mind, you place it down in front of him. “This is… for you.”

His gaze wanders down to the book, then back at you as he stares at you in awe, obviously surprised by the gesture.

“What’s this for?”

“Christmas gift?” you answer unsurely with a nervous chuckle. “I just saw it at the store and… thought of you.”

“Y/N, I can’t—“

“Yes you can and you will,” you roll your eyes at him, tired of hearing all these negations from him. He can’t, he won’t, he shouldn’t… for once, he definitely will if it’s on you. “Take it as my payment for the book you gave me.”

His eyes soften at you before he looks down at the book again, reading the title before he chuckles to himself.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he then finally says, accepting that you won’t let him return the gift under any circumstances.

“Have a nice Christmas, Harry,” you smile at him shyly, hands holding onto the strap of your bag as you start walking away.

“You too,” he faintly says and turning around you start walking, but then he stops you. “Y/N, wait!”

You stop in your track and face him curiously. He seems hesitant, stepping away from the desk, walking closer to you but still keeping some distance between the two of you.

“Do you… have plans for New Year’s Eve?”

“I, uhh—No, not yet.”

“If you happen to be back in town by then… Sarah is having this little get together. I have a feeling she already invited you, but if you said no because of me, I want you to know that it’s fine by me. Would be nice if you could come.”

He is right, Sarah did invite you over, but you kindly declined thinking Harry wouldn’t appreciate if you spent it with them. You wanted to give him a breather, have a night with his friends without having to avoid you all the time, but it seems like the situation has changed for him.

“You don’t have to invite me just because I gave you a gift, Harry.”

“It’s not about that,” he shakes his head softly. “I can tell you are getting along well with Sarah and all the others. I want you to know that I would never stand in the way and you are very much welcomed at any and all events.”

He seems and sounds genuine, you don’t see any sign of him just saying it because Sarah asked him to or something. No, this definitely came from him.

“Okay, I’ll… think about it,” you tell him with a warm smile. “See you around,” you wave at him before walking out of the room.

You don’t get to see his reaction to the words you wrote into the book and for a while, you’re not even sure he saw it. Maybe he took it home and put it on his shelf without even having a look into it, but two days later, when you’re already packing, getting ready to go home for Christmas, you get a notification that at first confuses you.

Breakfast is now following you!

You open Instagram with furrowed eyebrows as you go to the profile that just followed you. It’s a small account and private, of course and you almost close it thinking it’s just someone random when you see that it’s followed by both Sarah and Charlotte.

Could this be Harry’s profile?

The username is colazione8, it doesn’t give away much but now that you are thinking about it, it’s perfect if he wanted to stay unnoticed by his students that surely can use Instagram way better than him.

You tap on the follow request button and anxiously wait for an approval, hoping that the person behind the account is still online. You wait and wait, slowly losing hope but then the notification finally arrives. Your request has been approved.

You tap on the profile vigorously and three pictures appear in front of you. One is a picture of some random building, the first ever posted is a plate of nicely served breakfast of some sort and then there’s one that features the person you were desperately hoping to see.

It’s a picture of Harry sitting at a big dining table, a glass of wine in front of him as he is squinting his eyes towards the camera. You zoom into the picture just to make sure it’s him, but his features are clearer than daylight, it really is Harry that just followed you.

You’re still stalking his very private and not too eventful profile when you get a message from him, making your heart skip a beat.

Harry: Hey! Just wanted to thank you again for the gift, it’s really thoughtful. Read what you wrote in it… thank you, Y/N.

Y/N: I meant every word. Thank you for everything you did this semester!

It takes a few minutes for a response to arrive from him.

Harry: Are you already on your way home?

Y/N: Not yet, leaving tomorrow morning.

Harry: If I drop by your place in 20, can you come down for a sec?

Y/N: Sure!

Though your response seemed totally cool, you started panicking right away. What does this mean? Why is he coming here? Are you in trouble? You couldn’t be, you didn’t do anything wrong.

You quickly change out of your worn-out sweats and stained shirt, putting on a pair of jeans and a black hoodie, not wanting to see him looking like a total wreck. You sit on your bed, anxiously checking your phone every ten seconds to see if he has messaged you and those twenty minutes never seem to pass.

Then your phone finally chimes again.

Harry: I’m here.

Y/N: Be there in a sec.

You jump into a pair of trainers and grabbing your keys from the little sidetable you have in the hallway you storm out of the apartment, running down the stairs. As you walk out you stop in your track for a second, for some reason you were expecting the minivan, but this time, it’s a black Range Rover that’s parked in front of your building and Harry emerges from it the moment you step outside.

“Hey!” he smiles at you, shutting the door before he jogs around and you notice the little gift bag in his hands.

“Harry, is this what I think it is? Because you shouldn’t have, really,” you tell him right away as he stands in front of you, glancing down at the little bag in his hands.

“What? So you are allowed to give me a gift, but I’m not allowed to do the same?” he asks with a cheeky smile.

“But you already gave me one!”

“That wasn’t a real gift, so no,” he shakes his head, too stubborn to let it go. So instead, he nervously glances down at the little bag before handing it to you. “Here. Happy Christmas. But you can only open it when I’m gone, alright?”

“Why?”

“Just… please,” he breathes out and you not, keeping your curious hands to yourself.

“Alright. Well, thank you, Harry.”

“Sure. Um, have a great winter break and… I’ll see you around,” he smiles, walking around the car back to the side of the driving seat.

“You too, Harry. See you!”

You see him drive away as you walk back into the building, basically running up the stairs to your apartment, dying to see what’s in the little bag. Once you are locked in the safe haven of your room, you throw yourself to the bed and reach into the bag, finding a small box. One that’s usually used for jewelry. You pull it out with shaky fingers and take a deep breath before opening it.

Inside sits the cutest little silver ring you’ve literally ever seen. It’s thin and very detailed, tiny little strawberries lining next to each other and that’s the whole ring. Just the little strawberries, but it’s still the cutest you’ve ever seen. You put it on and it fits perfectly on your ring finger, holding up your hand you take a good look at how it sits on your finger. You’re in love with it.

Rolling to your back on the bed you stare up at the ceiling with a heavy heart aching for a man you know will never be yours, but you just can’t help it. The heart wants what it wants, right?

Reaching for your phone you type him a quick message

Y/N: Harry, thank you so much! It’s beautiful! But you shouldn’t have bought me anything!

Harry: I’m glad you like it :)

Y/N: I love it.

He doesn’t respond, just likes your message.

Christmas is always the same, especially because your family just never had those juicy dramas that could ruin any family events. Holidays have always been quiet and loving, pretty predictable. It’s good to be home again and spend quality time with your loved one, though your mind keeps wandering to a particular someone.

Sarah mentioned that Harry has traveled home to his mom and sister and from time to time you catch yourself thinking about what he could be possibly doing at the moment.

The only interaction between the two of you is when you post a photo with your sister and brother at Christmas dinner and he likes the photo, but nothing more. He doesn’t post or add to his story so you are left with your own elaborate fantasies of what he could possiblybe doing at home.

Sarah convinces you to spend the New Year’s Eve at hers and you are accepting the invitation a lot easier now that Harry has told you he is fine with you joining.

Just one day before the 31st you get back to your apartment and spend the second to last night of the year spiraling about the whole situation with Harry. Where are you two standing as of right now? Was his gift a gesture with a deeper meaning behind it?

You can’t step over the fact that you are not his student anymore. He has officially graded you and you’ve received your credits for his class, the ties are off, but he situation might still be risky and you doubt Harry is willing to change his mind about what he told you earlier. He made it clear that nothing will ever happen between the two of you, however you can’t help but feel a little hopeful that the new semester might bring a change into that.

After two hours spent in front of your closet and at least three mental breakdowns you finally decide to wear a black turtleneck dress which is just the perfect mixture of modest and sexy at the same time. You feel anxious to see Harry again, not sure how to act around him following your little gift exchange. There’s a chance he’ll just shut himself off once again and avoid you all night, you can’t tell.

Sarah’s place is already buzzing by the time you arrive, several guests are lounging in the living room and kitchen, some soft music is playing and it appears that everyone is enjoying the evening so far, judging from the laughter you hear from time to time.

“I’m so glad you came!” Sarah envelopes in a tight hug when you arrive.

“Thank you for inviting me. Here, brought some snacks,” you hand her the grocery bag you picked up on your way, not wanting to arrive empty-handed.

“Oh, you are an angel, some on in, make yourself home, take whatever you want to eat or drink!” she gestures around before bringing the bag into the kitchen.

The cozy home is already filled with a lot of people you don’t know, but you also spot Charlotte and Mitch right away so you take the safe spot in their little circle. You try your best to stay present in the conversation but you keep glancing around, looking for one particular person.

And then you finally see him. Harry emerges from the little hallway that leads to the bedroom and bathroom with Adam, seemingly deep in conversation as he nurses a beer in his hand. His checkered slacks and vintage printed t-shirt makes him appear so casual, if you didn’t know him you wouldn’t even guess that he is actually a professor.

Harry laughs at something Adam just told him and his eyes glide around the room until they find you standing near the kitchen. He stops in his track, gaze running down your figure before it returns to your eyes and he seems to be in awe, like he doesn’t entirely believe it’s you he is seeing even though he knew you’d be coming. There’s nothing you want more than to run across the room and throw yourself into his arms. You spent way too much time thinking about him during Christmas and seeing him in the flesh now is a mixture of feelings you can’t really describe just now.

Neither of you leaves the conversation you are in the middle, but you keep glancing towards each other. You’re nervously moving the strawberry ring around your finger, feeling his burning gaze on your figure all the time. You haven’t taken it down since he has given it to you, it partially made it harder for you to stop thinking about him, because the jewelry was quite a loud reminder every time you glanced down at your hands.

Two drinks later your sister calls you, as always she wants to say happy new year before the lines get hectic at midnight, so you move out to the small balcony facing the street as you talk to your sister. The spicy night air feels amazing on your heated up skin, the turtleneck dress was a good choice, but it’s definitely getting hotter with each drink, especially with Harry’s lingering eyes as well. When you end the call you decide to stay outside a little longer, take a few moments to yourself.

You jump a little when you hear the sliding door open and you’re surprised to see Harry walk out.

“Hey, thought you might need this,” he smiles softly, holding a blanket in his hands.

“Oh, thank you,” you mumble and let him wrap it around your shoulders. It provides just enough heat that your lips are not shaking anymore from the cold.

“What are you doing out here alone? Not enjoying the evening?”

“I am, I was just on the phone with my sister.”

“She’s older than you, right?” he asks and you tilt your head a little looking at him.

“How do you know that?”

“I, uhh… You have a lot of pictures with her on your Instagram,” he admits with a nervous chuckle.

“Have you been stalking my profile?” you tease him, but he clearly takes it way more serious than you intended it to be.

“No, I swear it’s not like that, I just—“ he stammers but you cut him off placing a hand on his arms that are crossed over his chest.

“Harry, I was just teasing you. It’s fine,” you assure him, giving him a gentle squeeze before you are about to pull your hand back, but his hold stops you. He takes your hand in his, gently bringing it closer to his face as he examines the ring sitting on your finger.

“You’re wearing it,” he breathes out, a small cloud emitting from his pink lips as his thumb softly runs over the ring.

“Of course. I told you I love it.”

You can’t ignore the shiver that runs down your spine at the feeling of his warm palm against yours, his thumb delicately running over not just the ring, but down your finger as well before he lets go of your hand. You already miss his touch.

“So, how was Christmas?” he asks clearing his throat.

“Good, nothing extra. What about yours?”

“Same, went home to the family.”

“Do you often visit them?”

“Not as often as I would want to, but I’m trying to go every couple of months.” Harry turns towards the street, eyes running along the not too busy road that stretches past Sarah’s building. His hand comes up to the railing, fingers slightly drumming on it. “How come you didn’t bring anyone tonight?”

“Well, my roommates are still home and I also didn’t think you’d like the idea to have another student of yours around.”

“Right, yeah,” he nods, but you can tell something else is still on his mind. “So… no boyfriend to bring?”

You give him a puzzled look. Is this his way of asking if you are seeing anyone at the moment? Because if it is, it’s kind of ridiculous.

“No, not really. I guess you can say I’m not looking for one actively.”

“How come?” he asks with raised eyebrows, his body turning towards you as he leans against the railing. You give him a ‘really?’ look. You think about getting a little sassy and teasing with him, but then decide to just be straightforward instead.

“Because I’m kind of into my Methodology of Cultural Anthropology professor.”

Harry’s lips part as his eyes pierce into yours and for a moment you really think that he is about to flip, tell me how dare you say such thing to him and curse you out, but a second passes and his gaze softens as he lets out a shaky breath.

“Y/N…”

“What? I just answered your question,” you innocently shrug, looking away from him. Despite this long and weird game the two of have been playing these past months, this is the first time you openly admitted that you have a thing for him.

“You know how complicated it is and I told you that nothing can happen.” He shakes his head in defeat, a hint of disappointment in his tone, but it just grinds your gears.

“What, so you can ask about my dating life but I can’t say that I’m into you? How is that fair?”

“That’s not the same.”

“Well I think it is. Both are highly inappropriate to bring up in our situation, don’t you think? Yet you’re trying to put all the blame on me.”

“Alright, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. Let’s just… forget about it. I really don’t want to fight with you.”

“Because you’re afraid I might actually win?” you sassily reply, crossing your arms on your chest.

“I’m just trying to do the right thing, okay? Would you… let me?”

“If you haven’t realized it yet, I’m trying really hard to stay in my lane, but you’re not making it any easier.”

“I’m trying too, okay?” he growls, clearly losing his calmness at this point. “I’m really fucking trying, Y/N, but it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do!”

“You’re the one making it hard!”

“It’s not my fucking fault I can’t stop thinking about you!”

“Well it’s not my fault either!” you snap at him, both of you raising your voice, the rest of the party oblivious about the screaming match the two of you are having on the balcony. “If you’re so set on not letting anything happen, why do you come to me and act the opposite?”

“The opposite?!”

“Yes! It’s not quite appropriate to gift your student with a ring or ask them about their dating life. Or is it all new information to you?”

“You started with the gifting!”

“So what? You could have just left it there, but you didn’t. It’s not that it didn’t make me happy, but don’t try to put all the blame on me for saying something when you’re already crossing the lines.”

Harry stares at you with a hard look and you’d pay great amounts to actually read his thoughts at this moment. His jaw clenches as he exhales sharply, eyes turning away from you, as if he couldn’t even bear to look at you.

“Make up your fucking mind,” you growl under your breath as you push your way past him and walk inside before he could get a word out.

For a well-respected, educated and smart man, Harry can act pretty fucking stupid, you think. He is not being fair and you will not apologize for anything you’ve said. If he doesn’t want anything to do with you, he needs to stay in his lane and not dance on the line, poking the sleeping lion. He doesn’t get to fuck around and then put all the blame on you, that’s just not how it works and he needs to learn that.

In the last hour that’s left until midnight you mingle with the guests and try to keep your thoughts of Harry at bay, though it’s quite the challenge since he lingers around you, keeping his eyes on you all the time, as if he is trying to piss you off or something, but you’re determined to be a mature adult and keep your composure.

You’re getting tired of this game and you’re not sure anymore if you are willing to wait around until Harry makes his mind up. Not when he doesn’t keep his own rules at least.

“Come on,” you mumble to yourself as you’re trying to open up a new bottle of wine, but the screw just wouldn’t move, no matter what you do. A hand reaches forward and wraps around the neck of the bottle, interrupting your pathetic misery.

“Let me help you.”

You let Harry take the bottle, biting into your bottom lip as you turn around and watch him easily open the bottle you’ve been fighting with the past ten minutes, he grabs your empty glass from the counter and fills it.

“Thank you,” you mumble when he hands it back and you take a sip right away. He places the bottle to the counter, fingers strumming on the surface before he takes a deep breath and speaks up.

“Y/N, I’m sorry.”

“For what exactly?”

“For the way I acted. You were totally right, I called you out for things that I did myself too, that was unfair of me.” He clears his throat, leaning against the counter with his back side as he crosses his arms on his chest. It brings out how toned his arms really are and you give yourself half a second to drool over that before you take another sip from your drink, forcing yourself to keep your thoughts under control.

“Thanks for acknowledging it,” you mumble, not sure what to say exactly. The two of you stand like that in silence, eyes roaming the guests, something clearly weighing down on both of you, but it’s hard to name and address it.

You can tell he is overthinking, the gears are almost visible, turning in that smart head of his, but you don’t want him to go into depths he shouldn’t. He really is making a bigger deal out of the situation that it already is, but it’s going to wreck him.

“Okay, I want to know, what was the worst way someone tried to flirt with you?”

Harry turns to you with a puzzled look, but you just sip on your wine, waiting for his answer.

“Um, I don’t… really keep track of it.”

“Oh come on,” you give him a look. “I know you have a story. I wanna hear it!”

Your eyes meet and he is searching in yours, trying to figure out what’s the sudden change in your mood when an hour ago you were ready to throw him off the balcony. Truth is you are just frustrated, because the situation feels so impossible. You never had to deal with such an amazing man, knowing he is into you as well, but you just can’t have him. The struggle is hard for the both of you but you can’t blame him entirely. Hating on him because he is not willing to take a risk that could easily ruin his entire life but at least his academic career is just not fair and you won’t put him through that.

Harry sees where you’re coming from and he shoots you a thankful smile before it turns into a smirk as he looks down at his hands.

“Professor Davids from the department of linguistics asked me to be her date for her ex-husband’s wedding.”

“What?” you gasp with wide eyes. “For real?”

“Yeah,” he chuckles. “She started swinging by my office all the time, trying to chat me up and then one day she asked if I wanted to go with her, that we would be staying at this nice hotel and all… she really thought it was a good idea.”

“That’s very awkward,” you laugh, entertained by the thought that Professor Davids would go so low when it came to dating. “I assume, you declined the invitation.”

“Faster than ever,” he chuckles making you laugh even louder. “Okay, your turn.”

“What?”

“I told you an awkward story, now it’s your turn.”

“Um, the worst was probably a promposal I got.”

“A promposal?” he asks with a puzzled look, his forehead creasing as he pulls his eyebrows together.

“Yeah, when they ask you out to go to prom.” “Oh, yeah. Didn’t know it had a specific name.”

“Because you are way too British,” you tease him and he just gives you a narrow-eyed look, but you can see the smirk hiding on his lips. “Well, anyway, I was dating a guy senior year, but this other one was convinced he could win me over and take me to prom. He brought a fucking mariachi band to school and gave me a serenade in the middle of the hallway while my boyfriend was standing next to me. He asked me to prom so confidently at the end of the song, like he actually had a shot but it was so painfully awkward,” you laugh at the memory shaking your head and Harry joins, finding it quite entertaining.

“He really did that to himself.”

“He did, I felt bad a little, but what was I supposed to do?”

You slip into telling more and more awkward stories, staying in the kitchen you create a little bubble, the rest of the guests don’t seem to exist as you enjoy yourself with Harry. This is the most carefree and loosest you’ve ever seen him around you and you quite like this version of him. So easy to talk to and even funnier than his usual self.

A little before midnight Sarah runs around with champagne, filling everyone’s glass, getting ready for the countdown. You and Harry join Charlotte, Adam and his wife in the corner of the living room as everyone is slowly getting excited for the last moments of the year.

Looking around you see a lot of couples, holding hands, hugging, clearly planning to snog the moment the clock hits midnight and when you glance at Harry on your right you’re convinced he is thinking about the same thing.

You’re not naïve, you don’t think he is going to kiss you, but you still allow yourself to play with the thought just a little. He is standing so close to you, just the tiniest move and you’d be touching him, skin to skin again, feel him under your—

The thought is abruptly interrupted when you feel his warm palm wrap around your hand, your whole body freezing and for a split second you think it’s just an accident, that his touch will disappear before you could even blink, but it stays there. Harry maneuvers his fingers until they are laced together with yours and he keeps a firm hold of your hand, hanging between the two of you, staying hidden because you’re standing close to each other. Your breath catches in your throat and you’re afraid if you dare to move he’ll let go of your hand.

Another version of yourself would laugh hysterically at how worked up you are right now just because he is holding your hand, but the you that’s actually in the moment is about to burst just by this small touch. You have absolutely no idea what it means or why he chose to do it, but you don’t really care about it. You just want to absorb all the heat you feel coming from him where his palm meets yours, fingers braided together tightly, as if he is trying to keep you next to him, like he thinks you are about to disappear and it’s way of anchoring you to him, but truth is you don’t want to go anywhere.

“One minute, everyone!” Sarah sings in excitement as she turns on the TV and puts a huge clock on the screen that’s counting the seconds as well. You shyly glance to the side, finding Harry standing motionless next to you and when he notices you looking, his eyes meet yours. He looks terrified, like a lost little boy and you can’t tell if he is afraid of your reaction or because of what his actions might bring on him. But you want him to know that you are completely okay with where it’s heading.

“Ten! Nine! Eight!” The countdown begins and you inch closer to Harry so you’re pressed against his side, his body heat radiating into your skin even through the layers of clothes you two are wearing.

Harry leans down the moment you lift your head, his face is so close, it wouldn’t take much for you to finally kiss him, do the one thing you haven’t stopped thinking about for months.

“Y/N…” he breathes out and it’s a tortured plea, he is begging you to stop him from doing something he might regret, but you are dying for him to finally sin. You want him to give it up already, you have absolutely no desire to be the burden that keeps him in his lane. You need him to cross the line and stay there.

“I’m not stopping you, Harry,” you tell him quietly, the urge to close the distance between the two of you is burning inside you.

“Seven! Six! Five!” the countdown continues, but it all tones out, you can only see, hear and feel Harry.

“We can’t,” he whines, closing his eyes as he exhales shakily.

“We can, we just shouldn’t,” you correct him, his eyes snap open and meet yours again. You can tell he is so close to finally giving in and let his feelings and desires take control and you will not try to stop him.

His face inches the tiniest bit closer and his forehead is almost touching yours now, you can see every curly eyelash that frames his gorgeous green eyes that are now filled with fear and nerves.

“Four! Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!” Everyone screams together as the clock finally hits midnight while you just stare at Harry holding your breath, praying that he is finally ballsy enough to take this step.

“Harry, please,” you beg, not too proud of it, but you just can’t take it any longer. His hand is gripping yours tightly as he closes his eyes again and for a second you think that it’s gonna happen. He is going to give up the act and finally kiss you.

But right when the moment is burning the most… he pulls back and your heart sinks.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his hand lets go of yours and it feels like your arm is ripped off, tears are welling in your eyes.

“Yeah, me too,” you mumble under your breath, chugging down the champagne before making your way through the living room, determined to leave as soon as possible.

“Y/N, wait, where are you going?” you hear him calling after you, but you don’t stop. You get rid of the empty champagne glass and grab your coat from the rack, storming out of the apartment as if you had somewhere to be.

Tears are streaming down your cheeks as you run down the stairs, almost tripping over your own feet. You hear the other pair of feet running behind you and Harry calling after you, but it’s not stopping you.

You push the front door of the building open, but it’s heavy, so it slows you down just enough that Harry can grab your wrist when you are about to start running down the street.

“Y/N, don’t go, let me explain!”

“No!” you snap at him. “I don’t fucking want to hear your explanation! I’m done, Harry! I’m fucking done! I was trying to be patient and respectful, I didn’t want to make it worse for you and let you do your thing, but you kept dancing back and forth and I can’t keep doing this, so I guess I’m sorry too.”

You’re choking on your own words that echo from the walls, the street is almost entirely empty, the world is still celebrating the new year while you’re at your breaking point. Harry stands in front of you, defeated and panic all over his face as he listens to you.

“I will not sit around and let you play your little games any longer, because you can’t make up your mind whether you want me or not.”

“Y/N I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life!” he snaps, throwing his hands into the air. “That’s the problem! This shouldn’t be happening, but I can’t fucking stop thinking about you, I can’t stop wanting you!”

“Then do something about it!” you beg through your tears.

“I can’t!”

“Yes you can!” you scream at him. “You can but you probably just don’t want me enough to actually do it! And it’s fine, but—“

You don’t get to finish your rant because Harry firmly grabs your arm, yanks you towards him and with one swift movement, his lips are crashing against yours.

It all happens so fast but your body reacts before your mind could process what’s really happening, fists bunching a handful of his sweater as you pull him against you, his hands flying up to your face, cupping them confidently as he kisses you hard and demandingly.

It’s like a fucking dam that’s been broken, everything you both kept bottled up and under control just breaks loose and it’s a kind of a wild fight for trying to devour each other now that all lines has been crossed an blurred into nothingness.

He is the dominant one, but you do some pushing and pulling on your own as well. You’re forced to take a few steps backwards, back arching at how forcefully he is pushing forward, lips smacking against each other over and over again, his tongue meeting yours, swirling and dancing around with yours, a shameless moan escaping your mouth.

His hands roam down your sides and you jumps when they reach the back of your thighs, legs wrapping around his waist. He keeps you up easily, fingers digging into your flesh where your butt meets your thighs and this angle allows you to be completely pressed up against him and feel every single inch of his body that burns for you.

It’s beyond anything you’ve ever imagined, you’re not sure it’s because of the build-up that led to this point or simply the chemistry you two got, but it blows your mind, making you question how you could go this long without ever kissing him.

“Harry, I want you,” you moan when his lips move down to your jawline, kissing and biting on the soft skin, tasting you wherever he can reach.

“I want you too, Y/N,” he breathes out resting his forehead against yours before kissing you again.

“Take me home then.”

“Are you sure?” he pants as you run your fingers through his hair and tug on his gently, earning a whimper from his perfectly pink and swollen lips. You love this satisfied dew on his face, especially because you know it’s because of you.

“Never been more sure about anything in my life.”

You unwrap your legs from around his waist and return to the ground, but not without him leaning down to kiss you once more before he grabs your hand and starts pulling you down the street. You spot his Rover right away and start sprinting, Harry following you right behind with a carefree laugh.

Settled in your seats he starts driving, but you can’t keep yourself away from him. His hand that’s not on the steering wheel is gripping your thigh as you lean over the console and start kissing his cheek, jawline and the corner of his mouth as one of your hands runs down his chest until it reaches his pants.

“Love, if you move further down we’re gonna crash,” he warns you with a shaky breath. “I drank a little too and I’m already fucking gone from kissing you, if you touch me I’m gonna lose it.”

You giggle, pressing one last kiss to his lips before sitting back in your seat. You need every bit of your patience and self-control to stay modest on the way back to his place. Hands gripping his you bring it up to your lips, kissing his knuckles gently as he speeds down the empty streets. It’s still barely over midnight, everyone is still celebrating, oblivious to how important this moment is to the two of you.

You really thought this would be the end. When he pulled away at midnight all hope was lost for you and it broke your heart to know that he will never choose you over his better judgment.

It’s your first time at Harry’s but you don’t really care to look around as the two of you make your way inside the townhouse, lips already melted together as you stumble through the dark hallway, not wanting to let go of each other. You successfully make it into his bedroom and Harry turns on the bedside lamp while you’re already eagerly getting rid of your coat and shoes. He does the same, clothes start to litter the hardwood flooring hastily, but neither of you is thinking about them. Harry scoops you into his arms once again, kissing your lips passionately as he bunches your dress up at your hips until he can finally grip the end of it and pull it over your head.

“Oh shit!” you giggle, the turtleneck getting stuck on your head for a moment before you’re free from it.

“That big head of yours,” he chuckles kissing your forehead.

“Shut up,” you smack his chest gently, pushing him down to the bed so you can straddle him, knees on his sides as you sit on his lap, lips meeting again.

He throws his hands up when you start pulling his t-shirt up and once the fabric is off of his body, his arms wrap around you, pulling you close to his chest. Your skin meets his and it feels heavenly, only little clothing separating the two of you at this point.

Harry scoots backwards and then throws you to the mattress, getting on top of you without your lips ever parting. His hips are pushed against yours and you can feel everything through the thin material of his slacks. Without even knowing you grind your hips, your core meeting his erection in the movement and he moans uncontrollably at the sensation.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he breathes against your lips and you can’t push your smirk down at his reaction.

“Yeah, fuck me, Harry,” you tease him before your lips get occupied once again.

His hands work fast. He unclasps your bra without you even noticing, the straps falling from your shoulders before he gets rid of it, throwing it across the room as if it did something against him. When his hungry eyes fall down on your naked chest you see the same kind of torture in his eyes that was there when he was fighting with himself before.

“Harry, stop thinking,” you tell him, fingers massaging his scalp as you lace them through his hair. “It’s fine, we’re fine.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he questions again and you pull him down for a reassuring kiss.

“One hundred percent. I want this. I want you.”

“Oh God, I want you so bad,” he whines again, lips kissing down your jawline, neck and collarbone before they attack your breasts.

He cups them, licks and bites them, making you a whimpering mess underneath him every time his tongue meets your hot skin. This man will be the death of you. As he moves down your body, his fingers hook into the waistband of your panties and he glances up at your for reassurance once again, you nod eagerly, lifting your hips so he can easily glide the fabric down and off of your body. Harry sits up, eyes burning down on your naked body lying in front of him as he undoes his own pants, pushing them down his long legs until they join the rest on the floor. You push yourself up when his hands move to his boxers, you want to be the one to take them off. He gladly backs his hands off when you reach out and start tugging them down. He kneels on the bed as you pull the fabric down and his erection finally becomes free, making you ache for him immediately. Once the boxers are out of the way completely you want to reach out to touch him, but he stops you, hands wrapping around your wrist before they could reach him.

Your eyes snap up to meet his darkened gaze, questioning why he stopped you.

“Y/N, I… If we do this, there’s no going back,” he breathes out with a pained look. You push yourself up to your knees so you meet his height, hands cupping his cheeks as you pull him into a sweet kiss that he hesitantly but returns.

“I know what you think about us, Harry, but I assure you, that I’m completely fine with it. But if you don’t want it to happen, we can just… lie here. I’m fine with that too. Kissing you was already such a gift for me,” you smile at him, gently pecking his lips.

“I just don’t want you to wake up and regret it. I’m not pushing you, right?”

“If anyone, it’s me pushing you,” you chuckle softly, a small smile tugging on his lips as well. “You didn’t push anything on me, alright? We are both adults and it’s completely fine. We’ll figure out the rest, I just want to focus on you now. Can I do that?”

Harry nods, still looking a little unsure, but you can tell he is starting to settle in his mindset. It’s not just him that worries about the other regretting something. You know how torn up he is about anything that’s about you and though you want him more than anything, you still don’t want to push him into doing something he is not entirely comfortable with.

“Do you want this?” you softly ask, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“I do. I’m just—“

“Then it’s all good, Harry. We both want it, nothing else matters for now,” you tell him, wanting nothing else than to finally see him enjoy himself entirely. “Lay down for me,” you tell him, feeling like you taking the lead is a good idea now.

He does as you asked him to, lying down on the mattress, head sinking into his pillow as he blinks up at you, watching you swing a leg over him before settling to sit on his thighs.

“Can I touch you?” you ask, wanting to make sure he feels completely comfortable with you. Pleasing him is your number one priority right now. He nods, lips parting as he watches your hand reach out and wrap around the base of his erected length. He whimpers under your touch, his eyes fall closed when you gently pump him a few times, his cock fits so well in your palms, like pieces of a puzzle.

Leaning down you kiss his fern tattoos on each sides of his hips before placing one to his leaking tip, sliding your hands to the base before you slowly and gradually take him into your mouth.

You’re not planning to make him cum with your mouth, but you’ve been dying to taste him and it’s just as good as you imagined. The way his body reacts to your touch, the noises that leave his kissable lips, this man is completely out of this world and you want to explore every inch of his body.

You bob your head a couple of times, just enough to wet his length and work him up for what’s coming next. When you let him go of your mouth and you move a little up on his body so that his cock can be lined up with your hole, you look at him to see if he is still down to continue. One hand holding his cock, the other one flat on his naked chest, you ask him a question with your eyes that he answers with his hands squeezing your hips.

“I have the implant. Do you want to put on a condom?” you ask him at last.

“I trust you,” he breathes out. “Do you want me to put one on?”

“I want to feel you,” you tell him shaking your head.

“Okay,” he nods so it’s settled.

Leaning down you peck his lips one last time before you push the head inside and then slowly ease yourself down on his throbbing length.

“Oh fuck!”

“Harry, oh my God!” you both moan at the sensation of him finally entering you. You’ve had your fair share of sexual intercourses throughout your life, but none of them felt this good. None of them pleasured you this good so fast and easily, just the feel of him being inside you is making you lose your mind.

You start off slow, wanting to feel him just right, get used to his size, but as soon as you feel more comfortable, you pick up a faster pace. His fingers are digging into your flesh at your hips as he holds onto you for dear life, panting and moaning at your motions. He glides in and out of you perfectly, setting your senses on fire practically.

“Harry, you feel so good,” you gasp, getting lost in the feeling. Sex has always been a good experience for you, but with Harry it’s a whole different story. As if he just opened a completely new world you never even knew about before.

“Yeah? You’re gonna cum for me?”

“Yes! Oh fuck!”

Harry pushes himself up, an arm coming around your back as he easily flips the two of you over, your back gently hitting the soft mattress. He holds himself up above you, lips crashing with yours as he starts to do the work this time, thrusting in and out of you, his hips smacking against yours forcefully as you both nearing the end.

“You’re making me lose my fucking mind, Y/N,” he cries out, head falling to the crook of your neck and you wrap your arms around him as a shield, holding him tight against you.

It doesn’t take long after that. He is hitting just the right spots, making you moan his name over and over again as your orgasm slowly devours you and washes over your whole body while he is still relentlessly moving.

“Harry! Oh… Fuck!” you gasp, legs and hands shaking and you clench your muscles around him, throwing him over the edge with you. He falls out of his rhythm, his cock twitching inside you as he moans against the hot skin of your neck, coming undone in your arms.

Nothing has ever felt this intense and mind-blowing and you’re now sure you’re addicted to him, there’s no turning back, not that you want that.

He collapses on top of you, still inside you, his body weighing down on you heavily, but it feels just fine. You run your arms up and down his sides, kissing the side of his head as you are both trying to catch your breath. It takes a few minutes for him to come back to reality with you, he lifts his head and moves to the side so he is not crushing you anymore, but an arm remains thrown over your abdomen. His vibrant green eyes are shining like never before when they meet your tired gaze and cupping his face in your palm you pull him in for a slow kiss where you finally have the time to actually taste him without the rushing of your own needs and urges.

“How are you feeling?” you softly asking, knowing well how major this was for him. You wouldn’t want him to spiral and start to self-destruct because of what just happened.

“I’m feeling fine,” he murmurs lowly, his fingers dancing on your naked side. “Just still a little torn if I did the right thing.”

“You worry too much. We did nothing wrong.”

“Not sure everyone would agree with that.”

“Fuck everyone else,” you chuckle and a smile tugs on his lips as well. “I will not feel bad for having the best sex of my life with a hot as fuck man I’m really into,” you bluntly tell him, earning a smug grin.

“Best sex of your life, huh?”

“Not even ashamed to admit,” you nod into the pillow. “How… was it for you?” you shyly ask, afraid his answer might disappoint you. But Harry pulls you closer until you’re pressed up against his chest, his lips capture yours, kissing you fiercely, making your heart skip a few beats for sure.

“Fucking amazing, baby. Probably the best I ever had too,” he admits, lips brushing against yours as he speaks. A satisfied sigh leaves your lips as you nuzzle against his chest once he has rolled to his back.

Silence comes over the two of you, you’re listening to his steady heartbeat, mindlessly drawing patterns over his chest. Lifting your head your eyes meet his and you can tell he has been thinking hard about what this all means for the future now.

“I’m in,” you simply tell him.

“Huh?”

“If you are thinking that I might not want to do this with you, that I just wanted a good fuck, that’s not what I think of this. If you want to give us a chance, I’m totally in.”

“You think we can make it work?” he quietly asks, his voice barely more than just a whisper.

“Of course,” you smile at him warmly. “You don’t?”

“I do, I’m just… there are so many things that can go wrong.”

“Then… we’ll make them right.”

Harry breathes out through his nose, clearly having a hard time to take it as easy as you do and you wish you could magically make all his doubts go away.

Sitting up you put your hands on each of his sides, looking down at him determined to bring out his confidence in the two of you.

“We just have to be patient and careful until I finish. Then we are basically free. That’s just one more semester. It could be way worse, we can make it work for a couple of months before we can finally do whatever we want. That doesn’t sound that bad, does it?” Harry shakes his head, reaching up he tugs your hair behind your ear before running his fingers down the side of your face.

“So we are really doing this?” he breathes out, a small smile on his sweet, pink lips.

“Well, I’m surely not giving up on this, we came a long way to be here,” you chuckle. “Question is, are you gonna give up on us? On… me?”

“Hell no,” he chuckles softly as he shakes his head. You smile down at him and leaning down you peck his lips tenderly.

“Then… we really are doing this.”

SEQUEL: 🌊 AN OCEAN AWAY 🌊

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles au #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #professor!harry #professor!harry au #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles angst

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yoonpobs · 3 years

Text

bad boy good thing xv. | m

pairing: jeon jungkook x oc

genre: angst, smut, fluff, miscommunication (we hate her lol), pining

warnings: oral (m receiving), jk and oc in their feelings :c, fluff n cuteness tbh

words: 7, 816

summary: a series of drabbles where you’re confused and jungkook’s confusing

a/n:

im so sorry for the late update but it's finally here!!! it's been a hectic few weeks w my exam preparation coming right around the corner too :c

anyway!!!! we've got some smut after a while 👀so for visual purposes pls imagine jk from the butter mv, specifically his hair and eyebrow piercing ...

i hope you enjoy this chapter !!!

Safety was a very important aspect of your life. Everything that you did, you always weighed the realistic possibilities of you regretting your decision; mind running at one hundred miles per hour while you drew a mental mind map of every possible outcome you could possibly predict. It was exhausting to have your mind immediately come up with worst-case scenarios where the risk was realistically a meagre five per cent against the other ninety-five, but you were a chronic overthinker by nature.

You steered far from doing things that would end up causing more harm to you and your environment because you knew that there was no actual reason why you could justify getting completely wasted at a party. If it was for fun—surely, you’d vehemently oppose that the next morning.

Your friends, or even anyone who knew of you; always lamented you for your tendency to remain in your bubble. You knew that overall, you were an overthinker and that most of the time—nothing of what you conjured would actually happen purely because, well—your friends are still alive, and so were you. You just missed out on ‘fun’.

But old habits died hard. Maybe that was why the most reckless and impulsive thing that you did—was with Jungkook.

Out of all your friends, Jungkook was the one person that really did whatever he could get his hands, feet or body to do.

He was very determined by nature and a natural daredevil at that. You remember on multiple occasions where he and his family went on a family vacation, and he came back with stories of his adventures swinging from the top of a cliff upside down, getting a snake to wrap itself around his neck—and by far the most impulsive one, returning with a small tattoo of said snake on the back of his neck.

Jungkook was so unpredictable that neither of your friends could ever tell what he’d do next. And you supposed that added to his charm, but it didn’t take away from the five stages of absolute shock that you’d go through when you witness another one of his unpredictable tendencies.

Like right now.

“Please say something,” he laughs nervously, scratching the back of his neck while you can only gape at him.

“Purple.” You blurt.

He blinks before his eyes dart upwards as his finger twiddles a few strands of hair between them.

“Yeah,” he hums, “It looks a little blue in some lights, though.”

You nod your head slowly, still processing what is probably the lesser surprising one between the two things that have you double-taking at his figure when you first greeted him at your door.

“That’s … not all,” you say slowly.

Jungkook offers you a lopsided grin that stirs something in your belly, and you don’t know if it’s his hair, or the fact that he’s starting to wear shorter sleeves as the weather begins to get hotter; his tattoos on display as it trails upon his arm—or if it was because of the—

“Eyebrow piercing?” He raises a brow, particularly the one with the eyebrow piercing as it glints under the natural sunlight that filters in the hallway, “So. Do you like it?” He asks, smile still small as he leans in for you to get a better look.

Your breath hitches when his face gets closer, but not enough for it to be insinuative in any way. It was just you and your weak-willed nature whenever it came to Jungkook. You hoped that he wasn’t able to see the way that your ears undoubtedly redden under the proximity.

“What matters is if you like it, Jungkook,” you remind him softly, shyly looking down to your feet.

He sighs, resting an arm against your doorway in a way that makes him look as large as the width of your door. His gaze is still calm and steady, lips curled ever so slightly as he rests his eyes on you.

“I know. But I care if you like it or not,” he retorts.

You scoff, waving him off, but a small grin still threatens itself onto your face.

“Well you shouldn’t,” you huff.

“Why not?” He hums as he cards a hand through his hair. Even if it’s a bright colour and you’re sure that it required copious amounts of bleach and hours at the salon to get the final result—it still looks soft when he swifts through the locks.

“Because,” you lull, “My opinion doesn’t matter. If you like it and you think it’s pretty then that’s more than enough.”

He clicks his tongue against his cheek before his eyes dart down. You’re still avoiding his gaze because you weren’t ready to have your senses assaulted with the way he’s crowding you in the doorway of your own home.

“You’re trying really hard not to compliment me right now,” he teases.

“I am not!” You splutter, ears turning red. Your eyes dart to your feet. “… but if it matters then … I like it. It’s pretty.”

Jungkook’s grin is nothing short of wide when his head reaches out to smooth your hair out of your face that forces you to look up at him. You attempt to keep your heart beat at bay, even if the way he looks pleased with your futile trial of complimenting him. In reality, you thought it looked more than just pretty. Jungkook looked … hot. He was already attractive as he was, and his confident yet quiet nature made him exponentially hotter—but his long, purple hair and the new eyebrow piercing just made him even sexier.

“It matters.” He smiles, cocking his head to the side as you bashfully step aside to allow him to enter your apartment.

He settles in like he’s the missing piece to the lonely nights you spend on your dining table studying away for a test or an exam. And you suppose that Jungkook’s always fit right in, wherever you were. He was a comfortable presence in your life, even when the two of you were in high school and he’d come over for tutoring lessons. Or when it’d be just you and him in your mother’s car while you taught him how to drive.

Jungkook’s somehow always filled in the other seat in your life when there called for two. Even when you note that he still sits on one foot while the other hangs off the couch, a habit he’s had since he was young, or the way that he’s still stupidly polite not to sprawl himself across your couch like Jimin and Taehyung did whenever they were over. Jungkook’s always been there and you were always there to see.

“So … what’s up?” His voice interrupts the daydream that got you a little more soft than you’d like. You shake your head as you shut the door behind you, turning around to fully face Jungkook.

“The ceiling?” You reply lamely, a soft chuckle escaping your lips when you see him roll his eyes.

“Ha ha,” he mocks, “I meant if there was anything you wanted to talk about. You know—since you texted me to come over.” He finishes with a raise of his brow.

You still as your brain processes his words. You did text him first. You had just finished a lengthy meeting with the student union and didn’t feel like studying just yet—and you just so happened to have been thinking about Jungkook when you caught a glimpse of your phone (when were you not).

You didn’t have a reason, even if your conscience would argue that you did and it was because you missed him. Even if you were the one that needed time. Your heart and mind wanted two different things, but they both revolved around Jungkook. So, you compromised and settled for a simple text.

“I don’t know,” you mumble, shuffling towards your couch as you plop in the loveseat across from him.

He ogles the way that you chose a seat that wasn’t the one that he was sat on. He doesn’t point it out, though. Instead, a firm line settles on his lips before he leans back to your couch, eyes still trained on your figure.

“You don’t need to sound so shy,” he says, “I’ll always come if you’re the one that’s asking.”

Your eyes widen when your head darts up. When you look at him, you swear that you’d melt because he was looking at you with mirth dancing in his eyes. The somewhat dim lighting of your living room made him look so … cosy. He looked more comfortable, probably knowing that you weren’t going to nag at him for manspreading at the way you can only stare. You don’t know if it’s on purpose but you’re sure it is—but Jungkook’s eyebrow piercing is strategically exposed when he raises a brow, flicking his bangs aside. Your brain short-circuits.

“It’s not—I’m not—I’m not …” You stutter when he catches you looking like a deer caught in headlights. But all he does is let out a deep chuckle before reaching an arm out.

You stare at the arm that extends itself, eyes trailing up the limb as you gawk at his tattoos. He wasn’t one to flaunt, even though he didn’t pretend like he didn’t have any. So even your friends didn’t catch much of his tattoos unless he was at the gym or changing during practices with the way he practically lived in long sleeves. But now, it was just you and him, in your living room while he practically invites you over with his smile and doe eyes.

“Come ere’,” he mumbles as you continue to stare, “Next to me, please.”

You blink a few times when you realise that he’s beckoning you over with the arm that’s extended. You buffer for a second when he continues to smile at you with that easy grin of his, the one that’s both able to calm you and reduce you into a mess of nerves. But after a few beats, your limbs start moving at their own accord as you push yourself off the couch, slowly inching towards Jungkook and the empty spot next to him where you plop down into.

“Here?” You ask softly.

He laughs, and it’s a nice sound. Your mind had been muffled ever since he first showed up with that new hairstyle of his and that Godforsaken eyebrow piercing, and now when he looks at you like you were the only thing that he’s ever wanted—your heart can’t take it.

“Closer.” He encourages with a tilt of his head. Then, he delivers the final blow. “Just wanna hold you.”

You freeze, hands stilling on the plush of your couch as you were about to shift closer. The words are still processing in your mind even if you knew exactly what he said and what he meant. The heat on your face was definitely proof of that.

“Oh my God, don’t just say that!” You cry, burying your head into the back of the couch when you turn away from him.

Jungkook’s still laughing at you, hands clutching his stomach instead of trying to reach out for you as you whine into the fabric. He was killing you and your poor heart, and he was doing a damn good job at it. He didn’t need to do much because his presence was always enough to reduce you to absolutely nothing and a pile of mush.

It was this ambiguous back and forth that you’ve settled into with Jungkook after your last serious conversation that had your heart weaker and softer than ever. Every moment you spent with him, even in the crowd of your friends—you knew what you wanted. But there was still an irrational (and insecure) part of you that wanted to wait. To see if he actually meant his confession or was he driven by desperation to keep a friend close.

You should’ve had faith in Jungkook the way he blindly and willingly put in you. Even if you were the more unstable one between the two of you. But your mind worked endlessly to remind you of what the two of you shared, and who you had to share him with—and how she was everything that you weren’t.

“I’m sorry!” He laughs, and you feel a hand reach around your waist to tug you upwards as you squeak at his show of strength. “Was that too much?” He asks softly when you’re facing him, face definitely still flushed as you avoid his face and opt to stare at the chain around his neck.

Even that was making your insides feel funny.

“No …” You mumble, leaning forward until your forehead is pressed against his chest as his fingers drum against your waist. “I’m just shy.”

He chuckles.

“You don’t have to be shy.” He tells you, “It’s just me.”

You blink up and narrow your eyes at him.

“That’s not fair! You can’t just turn up to my house looking like—that—and expect me to be fine!” You huff, gesturing towards his entire frame as he simply listens with an amused raise of his brow.

He tilts his head to the side and even has the audacity to look confused when he smirks at you.

“Me? What did I do? It’s just hair dye and a piercing.”

You huff.

“It’s just hair dye and a piercing,” you repeat in a low voice, clearly meant to represent him as his face scrunches adorably at your impression of him.

“That’s not how I sound like.” He deadpans.

You stick your chin up snootily with a satisfied smile.

“You so do. You sound that dumb with what you just said.” You retort petulantly.

Jungkook stares at you for one long second before he’s pulling you flush against his chest with a wide grin on his face as he attempts to smother you with his arm. You squeal when you feel his fingers around your waist as he squeezes the flesh. He manoeuvres his way around your body until you’re perched on his lap, hands reaching out against his chest so that you could establish some distance (which you fail miserably at).

The room is filled with your gasps and Jungkook’s cackles, and with the way he’s crowding your body with his own—all you can smell is Jungkook. He smells fresh, as always. Especially since he chooses to opt-out of cologne and pays favourable attention to the type of laundry detergent, body wash and shampoo that he uses that gives him the boyish, clean and charming natural scent that he has. And it drives you insane.

So when you look up at him through your lashes in a break when Jungkook’s heaving at how he’s attempted to tickle you, and all you can see is how good he looks with his purple hair paired with the way he unconsciously licks at his lips to wet them; and the eyebrow piercing and tattoos. You melt—and so does your filter.

“Can I suck your dick?”

Granted, that isn’t a question you pose after he’s just tickled you in good faith while giggling away with his doe-eyes, or even the way his hands are placed at a respectful distance away from your bum. And it definitely isn’t a question that Jungkook’s expecting because his eyes shoot wide open, while his foot kicks up hard enough that it crashes against your coffee table.

“W-What?!” He cries, hands gripping your shoulder to push you away so that he can get a proper look at your face.

And it’s on fire.

But you can’t take back your words, especially when Jungkook’s looking like he demands some sort of explanation.

“I—I …” You stutter but your body is lax in his, and your thighs are still straddling Jungkook’s. You aren’t stupid or that naive, so you definitely know the firmness that presses against your inner thigh is a sign that he’s not opposed to your proposition.

Before you can say anything with how your mouth fails you, Jungkook snaps up until your foreheads nearly crash against each other as he presses his palms against your cheeks, staring you intently in the eye until you’re squirming under the scrutiny.

“I don’t hate it.” He assures you softly, but his eyebrows are furrowed. “But I need to hear it from you that you know what you’re saying.”

You blink at him and all Jungkook does is wait for you patiently. What were you saying? That you wanted to suck his dick? You did. You wanted to do a lot of things to and with Jungkook. Curse him for turning up looking the way he did and meddling with your restraint on needing time. But there was a brewing feeling of need in your chest that wants to please Jungkook, that wants to see him quiver under your tongue the way he has had you before. They weren’t all pleasant memories, purely because your poor heart has had to fight to disassociate your feelings from pleasure when you couldn’t do it.

But you’ve never made Jungkook feel good, at least in the way he was able to do for you.

“I-I—” you mumble, eyes darting everywhere but Jungkook’s gaze doesn’t waver at all. You take a deep breath, nibbling on your lips as your eyes dart up to the ceiling before they return to his face. He’s still waiting. “I want to. I really do.” You assure him, your own hands reaching out to clutch at his collar.

Jungkook’s cock twitches in his pants, and you feel it. You give an experimental swivel of your hips because you know it must feel good for Jungkook. And it does with the way his breath hitches, but his hands leave your face to grab at your hips to stop your motions. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, but all Jungkook does is sigh.

“You don’t have to …” he whispers, “I—you said you needed time and I don’t want to ruin this. What we have.”

You purse your lips.

“I know I said I needed time but I want to, Jungkook,” you tell him seriously, “What happened before was a product of our miscommunication but it’s different now,” your eyes are firm when they stare into his, your face leaning forward for emphasis, “Unless you don’t want me to—”

“Baby, no,” he reaches out to pull you closer to his chest, “I do. God—I can’t think of anything else but … I don’t want to fuck this up.” His eyes flutter shut as he rests his forehead against your breast bone. It’s not sexual at all, and you can hear the genuine frustration that laces Jungkook’s voice.

“You won’t,” you say softly, reaching a hand through his hair, “I want to learn. I want to learn how to make you feel good too.” You whisper.

Jungkook releases a low groan that makes your stomach clench in desire. You realise that throughout the escapades that the two of you have engaged in, you were the vocal one purely in the sense that you were whining, moaning and sobbing in pleasure at Jungkook’s doing. But Jungkook was vocal in the way he spoke to you. Even if it was mean and you found yourself crying after it happened because he pretended that you didn’t exist—there was something about the way he guides you through your highs in that raspy voice of his that made you cum harder each time.

“You’re serious?” He asks, finally looking up to confirm with you.

You nod your head.

“Dead.”

He nibbles on his lips, as his eyebrows scrunch in focus. He was heavily contemplating your offer and even if you never propositioned any male to suck his dick before, you’ve never heard of a case where they’d be hesitant to receive one. But you and Jungkook were different. You knew what you felt for him, and he knew what he felt for you—and somehow that made your odd request all the more important for the both of you.

“We’ll be okay, right?” He asks hesitantly, afraid. Your eyes soften as you nod.

“I want this, Jungkook.” You tell him again, and you’d repeat it as much as you can for him to know.

He sighs deeply.

“If at any point you feel … overwhelmed … just say the word and we’ll stop, okay?” He says, holding you by the shoulder while he hardens his eyes at you in seriousness. You nod your head as you scramble off his lap in a motion fast enough that Jungkook can’t process it.

Before the both of you know it, you’re on your knees, settled in between his legs as you peer up at him. Your heart was thundering in your chest because you had no idea what the fuck you were doing, but you wanted to do this. All because of that damn hair and piercing of his.

“Your knees,” he murmurs, attempting to tug you up but you’re stubborn when you stay rooted in position, eyebrows furrowed in determination as your jaw ticks.

“Isn’t this how it goes?”

“They’re going to hurt,” he points out.

You roll your eyes before narrowing them at him.

“Do you usually complain this much before you get your dick sucked or what?” You snap, patience wearing awfully thin.

Jungkook’s eyes widen at your blunt statement, especially when you reach out to rest your palms on his thighs.

“I don’t mean …” he mumbles, hands gripping the couch because he’s too afraid to touch you, “It’s not like that and you know it.”

You sigh, leaning your cheek against his kneecap and he feels his heart go into overdrive. It was different, with you. This wasn’t just another girl that wanted to suck his dick for his approval or whatever—this was the girl of his dreams, readily waiting to learn how he liked it. Though he’d argue that he’d like anything you do to him because his love-glasses blinded him that way. But there was still fear ebbing away at his heart, terrified at screwing it up even if you were the proposer in this case.

“Jungkook, I’m not going to disappear on you after this,” you say softly, still peering up at him, “I want this.”

Your heart tightens when he hesitantly reaches out to rest a hand between strands of your hair as he tilts your head upwards. Something about just sitting between his legs as they sprawl out wider to accommodate your body seems do domestic and intimate. Even the context of the situation makes you tingle from your fingertips all the way to your toes—you were here to learn, from Jungkook; on what he liked and didn’t.

You didn’t plan this. Admittedly you and Yena have talked on more than one occasion about how you really wanted to sleep with Jungkook—you didn’t have a timeline for it. It felt weird to put a date to it so you shoved the thoughts aside even if they popped up every once in a while. This just so happened to be one of those moments where your mind ventures into a more explicit territory whenever you were with Jungkook.

“I know you need time but …” his eyes flutter shut before he leans his head back into the seat—eyes staring up at the ceiling as if he was searching for answers that he didn’t have with himself. You wait because you suppose that’s the least you could do when you made him wait for you while you attempted to deal with your own feelings. When he looks down, his eyes are gentle yet resolute, “You know I love you, right?”

He sounds nervous even if he’s said it before. But the words don’t fail to make you flush or evoke the tremble in your ribcage—a signal from your body that tells you that it’s only Jeon Jungkook that could ever make you feel this way.

“God,” you huff, but the corners of your lip twitch and that’s enough to tell Jungkook that you did. You knew. “Can you teach me? Please?”

You’re pressing forward again, eagerly shifting on your knees as Jungkook takes one long look at you as if he was memorising this image to eternity. When he decides he’s satisfied, he rests into the seat before gently coaxing your hands away from his thighs and towards his—

“Start here,” he guides with a low voice, large palm encasing your smaller ones as you feel the metal of his zipper come into contact with your skin.

You blush, but you were an overachiever for a reason. The potential embarrassment of fumbling is tucked away in your mind, your only concern and fascination lie with the fact that Jungkook’s already hard that you feel him brush against your wrist.

“Don’t you need to get hard?” You ask softly.

Jungkook blinks before he’s giving you that devastating smile of his, the one where only one corner of his lips turn up into an amused grin while you tilt your head at him in an inquisitive manner.

“I’m really hard right now,” he assures you; and to prove his point, his hand guides yours over the outline of his cock. You gasp because it’s the first time you’ve felt anything but your own intimates in your grasp.

You involuntarily squeeze your thighs together, appreciating the way that Jungkook’s beginning to bite on his lips while he focuses his attention purely on you. You knew just from feeling alone that Jungkook was not your averagely-sized male.

“O-Oh,” you breathe when your hands begin to work at their own accord—slowly unbuttoning his jeans, working your way down the zipper. The entire time, you’re occasionally looking up for any signs of approval from Jungkook, the resolved student in you needing appraisal from your teacher. And he picks up on your prompts, smiling at you gently even as his breath begins to turn uneven at the way you’re still gently pulling his pants down.

“You’re doing great,” his hand cards through your hair until his thumb reaches your cheek, rubbing a gentle motion to be paired with his words.

You smile to yourself, feeling more confident to tug his jeans down his thighs. You knew that Jungkook was well-built, it was a fact given that he was an athlete who frequented the gym more than any place on campus. He had impeccable stamina, even before he took football seriously—but the way that his thighs clench under your clammy hands only prove your point. But all you can really focus on is the outline of his cock from his boxers.

“Can I …?” You ask hesitantly, reaching out to tug at the hem of his boxers.

Before you can do anything, his hand stops your wrist as you immediately pause in your ministrations. Your eyes widen, fully ready to pull away in case you did something wrong. What if he didn’t like it? What if he changed his mind or that you were bad—?

“Stop thinking,” he chides, “I want this. I love your hands, anything that you do,” he whispers in reassurance as you swallow. “How about you feel me first? Over the boxers. Baby steps.”

You exhale, nodding your head as your hand reaches to cup his length in your hand. You gasp in tandem with Jungkook, feeling the heat radiate from his dick as you give an experimental squeeze. You look up to gauge his reaction, and you suppose it’s good with the way his breath hitches. He doesn’t say anything and you take that as your cue to continue, your hand squeezing tighter upwards, right before your thumb rubs over what you think is the tip.

“It’s wet,” you blurt.

You’re about to hastily apologise because who the hell points that out before giving someone a blowjob?

“Yeah,” he releases a shaky breath, “I’m so hard right now you have no idea.” He laughs, throwing his head back.

You don’t say anything else, but you continue to work your way up and down his length over the cloth—and for some reason, you feel like it never ends. The heat from his cock, the stirring in your belly or the wetness that begins to accumulate between your own thighs. His hand rests in your hair in a gentle way, simply remaining there as he allows you to have your way on his cock.

That realisation makes you feel the need to go further, so you do. You squeeze until you reach the base of his cock, and you feel the outline of his balls. You briefly read online that some guys liked it when you squeezed—so you did. And Jungkook nearly lurches forward and knees you in the face when you do.

“Fuck, baby,” he chokes in a laugh.

“Sorry,” you mumble, but your heart isn’t there when you grin in satisfaction to yourself. The term of endearment doesn’t fall onto deaf ears either, and it shoots straight to your core.

Deciding that you weren’t happy with just fondling him above his boxers, in one swift motion; said fabric now drapes over his thighs and you’re welcomed with the sight of Jungkook’s engorged cock staring you straight in the face.

You assume it’s bad taste to just stare at someone’s intimates as if you were dissecting the anatomy right as you were about to get down to business. But you couldn’t help it. Jungkook had such a … pretty looking cock. You don’t know if penises could look aesthetic nor were you going to be superficial and say that penises should look a certain way. But he had such a pretty cock and it only made you want to shove it all the way down your throat. But your inexperience tells you to relax because you weren’t about to embarrass yourself like that.

“Do you … hate it?” Jungkook asks tentatively.

He wasn’t particularly an insecure person. He knew he was good looking and had a great body—he worked hard for it! But that’s because he never cared about anyone and what they had to say enough for it to affect his self-confidence. But you were the one person that he’s sought for validation ever since he was just a teenage boy, before the muscles and the confidence he’s developed over the years.

Especially when he was so hard that he thinks he’s going to bust a nut the second your mouth touches his cock—the way that you’re staring only makes him anxious.

“You’re really big,” you tell him, eyes peering up, “And pretty.”

Jungkook blushes. He can’t believe it but the fact that he’s the one that’s flustered when you were the ‘inexperienced’ one only goes to show how whipped he was. He almost laughs, but your hand is touching his bare cock and he nearly chokes at the firm grip you immediately take. He really almost laughs, because even now—you were a quick learner, an observant student who already probably knew what he liked.

Your hands twist upwards when you jerk him off, and Jungkook tries his best to keep his hips at bay even if he’s letting out low groans the tighter you squeeze. Your eyes occasionally dart up to observe his reactions, and you’re pleased to see that his mouth is slightly agape whenever his breathless pants leave them. You didn’t know that pleasuring someone else could feel this fulfilling for yourself—but you liked it. You liked the way he felt in your hand, the precum that oozes out from his tip that taints your fingers—and you especially liked the way his head is thrown back while the grip in your hair tightens simultaneously.

“You could spit on it,” his shaky voice interrupts your mental dialogue as you look up at him. He cocks his chin towards his cock as you were hyper-focused on his length. You note that you barely could wrap your fists around him and that you needed the help of both hands.

“Would you like that?” You ask.

He nods.

“It chafes when it’s dry,” he points out.

You open your mouth in acknowledgement as you nod your head slowly. You remember when he had spit on your pussy, and even if it was in the heat of the moment and you were already wet enough—you liked it. But you also note that the way you’re jerking him off his dry so you rev the spit up in the back of your throat before you lean forward, allowing the glob of spit to drop down his cock.

The breathless groan that he lets out immediately shoots to your core as you peer up at him. He’s already looking at you do, and you feel compelled to shoot him a small smile. And when you do, he groans even if your hands have momentarily stilled as you raise a brow at his reaction.

“How are you still so cute,” he huffs.

You blink.

“Are you really calling me cute right before I’m about to suck your dick?” You deadpan.

He sighs, but his hand rubs a gentle circle on your head.

“It’s a good thing,” he promises, “Can’t you feel how hard I am right now? You could breathe near my dick and I’d probably nut.”

You snort, even if the compliment is super boyish and very Jungkook—you feel your heart swell. You’re both terrified and how you’re reacting to his simple words, but the cheesy grin he sends you from above only makes your stomach feel lighter and your heart soar higher.

“So how do you like it?” You ask.

It’s a little too odd to be having this conversation as your hand continues to work lazily on Jungkook’s cock. He seems to not mind, especially when his hips occasionally buck upwards to chase the feeling. He blinks in an attempt to focus on your query and not how good your hand feels around him, even if it’s in a rest.

“How about you just start with the tip?” He suggests.

You nod your head before you lean forward, and you don’t know if Jungkook feels it—but your heartbeat is beating rapidly against your chest. You’re not … scared, but you’re also a little scared. Mostly because it’s a foreign territory and you’re unsure how it’d taste (even if Yena warned you from having high hopes). But Jungkook ate relatively healthy and drank a lot of water; and worked out regularly.

You finally kiss the tip, and Jungkook just about melts, cock twitching at the contact as you stick your tongue out to take a tentative lick of the precum that oozes out from his hip. It’s not pleasant, nor is it anything to puke over. You’re partial to it, mostly because you’re super turned on and you like the way that Jungkook seems to be eagerly waiting while his other fist that isn’t in your hair grabs at the couch in anticipation.

You don’t intend to be that erotic, but you don’t break eye contact even when you envelop the tip into your mouth. It’s the widest part of Jungkook, and it’s already a pleasant stretch to your lips when you run your tongue on the underside of his cockhead.

“Y-You sure you n-need me to—ah—teach you?” He asks breathlessly when you use your free hand to jerk the base of his cock.

You hum around his length, and Jungkook groans in tandem, hips jerking upwards in response as you feel his cock briefly drag against the roof of your mouth. He’s about to apologise, especially when he leans forward, but you briefly release him to shake your head.

“I’m a big girl,” you tell him with a grin.

Jungkook chuckles before resting back. He can’t quite believe that you’re on your knees right in front of him, sucking his dick like an obedient student. It’s eerily similar to many of his high school wet dreams, and it probably exceeds them with the way you’re sucking him back into your mouth; slowly inching your way further until you’re halfway down.

Your mouth is hot, and in fact—a dream. It’s probably the fact that it’s you that Jungkook feels all his senses be elevated in a way he’s never felt before. It was the way that his heart soars in his chest while his stomach caves in when he feels your tongue swipe under his shaft.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” he croons, hand carding tenderly through your hair, “Be careful of your teeth.” He adds on when he feels the scrape of them against his cock.

He didn’t hate it, but he rather enjoys the softness of your mouth without the fear of you chewing his dick off.

You look up at him apologetically, but he only returns it with a half-hearted smile—purely because your hand is working its way on what you can’t fit into your mouth just yet. You’re an impeccable learner, and Jungkook thinks that he didn’t need to guide you at all with the way you’re doing everything just right. Or maybe it’s his love-sick mind that makes everything feel infinitely better. Maybe other guys wouldn’t like it—but his heart only drops when the thought arrives. He wanted to be the only person that could feel your mouth this way.

Your tongue is working hard when it continues to slobber against his cock. And he doesn’t know if you’re doing it on purpose, but you’re messy when you vacuum your cheeks—spit pooling at the sides of your mouth when you bob your head up and down. All Jungkook can feel is your mouth, and beads of sweat are already accumulating at his hairline while his breathing turns uneven with the only things escaping his lips are moans and groans.

You’re enjoying the way that Jungkook looks like he’s slowly losing control of himself and his tongue. All he’s doing is moaning, even the grip in your hair tightens when he unconsciously pushes your head further down on his cock. You realised that sucking dick wasn’t that theoretical as you thought it was. You were simply observant, gauged what made Jungkook’s breath hitch, what he didn’t react much to—and you knew for a fact that he appreciated the slobber.

And the spit. And the squelches of your lips meeting his cock. You did, too. It’s almost embarrassing to admit, but you were drenched just by observing Jungkook’s reactions. That only spurs you on further when you work harder, hand reaching down to cup his balls as you hear Jungkook release a breathy whimper. The sound immediately shoots to your core as you let out a moan of your own.

“Fuck,” he gasps, “You’re fucking evil.”

He’s breathlessly laughing, but you don’t let it hinder your actions. If anything, his words drive you further when you push his cock further into the cavern of your mouth, the gasp leaving his lips a sign that he probably didn’t expect that. You feel his stomach clench when you continue to bob your head up and down, and you’re giving yourself a mental pat on the back at the way you’re able to labour your own breathing through your nose. You were a natural if you did say so yourself.

“M’ gonna cum,” he mumbles through a moan, hand tightening around your hair as you take that as a sign to squeeze his balls harder. His hips jerk, hitting the back of your throat that has you briefly gagging around his cock. The visual and the sound sends Jungkook into overdrive, his balls feeling heavier by the second and in desperate need of release. He wants to apologise, but you don’t seem to mind with the way you continue to hollow your cheeks and function around his length.

“Where can I—fuck—where can I cum?” He rushes his words out, shallowly thrusting into your mouth as you hum around his cock.

He pulls out by pushing you back with a firm palm on your shoulder as your eyes widen, and when he’s shooting ropes of cum onto your face as it drips down your neck. You weren’t sure if he was supposed to cum that much, but it keeps on coming as you sit there obediently with your mouth open, in case it lands anywhere else. Jungkook’s groaning above you as he jerks himself off through the last bits of his orgasm, his hazy eyes darkening further when he spots the white that paints your face.

“I thought guys liked it if we swallowed?” You tilt your head to the side and Jungkook thinks he’s about to die.

“You’re actually going to kill me if you do that. So no. Not today.” He snorts, relaxing back into the couch as his post-nut clarity starts to hit him. He stares at the ceiling, feeling immensely satiated.

“This is like a facial at the spa,” you mention off-handedly as you climb up between his thighs, cum still staining your face. And Jungkook can’t believe it, but he thinks you look so cute painted with his cum. It’s a primal instinct the way that his eyes linger longer, feeling territorial with the way that he’s the only one that gets to see you like this.

“You’re so weird,” he snickers but you pout at him. And you do the next thing that gives Jungkook a heart attack.

Your tongue swipes over your lips where some cum remains, and even if his cock is flaccid—he feels it twitch in interest.

“Not bad. A little salty but overall … meh,” you shrug your shoulders as Jungkook gawks at you.

“You …” he trails off, “God.”

You smile up at him, all innocent as if you didn’t just give him the suck of his life—as your first time sucking dick.

“So? How was it?” You ask eagerly, leaning into his chest. He wants to ask about the cum that’s drying on your face, but you don’t seem to mind. You were so weird, but that only makes his heart grow fonder.

“Do you conduct feedback sessions after every blowjob?” He asks sarcastically.

You roll your eyes, “Do you want me to? I mean—I could offer my services elsewhere—”

Jungkook pinches your hip in retaliation, the insinuation making him growl as you snicker. He can only stare at you in amusement, especially when you’re still grinning up at him. Gone was the shy girl that proposed this, even if he noticed the flush on your cheeks and on the tip of your ears. It was insane how you took a one-eighty, but Jungkook appreciated it. He appreciated you.

“Ten out of ten. Magnificent. Absolutely life-changing. Thought I saw the gates of heaven for a second.” He teases.

You roll your eyes but a small smile appears on your face as you glance down to fiddle with your fingers. Jungkook can only stare at you, and he can’t fully describe this feeling but his heart feels so … full. So completed, even if you sucked his dick. He’s always felt this way, but there was something about you being wrapped in his arms after you had his dick in your mouth that made Jungkook go crazy. Crazy enough for him to blurt out the next thing on his mind.

“I want to be with you.” He blurts.

Your eyes dart up in shock as they widen. But Jungkook is as resolute as ever, a dopey grin still on his face.

“W-What?” You stutter.

He reaches for your hand, still slightly sticky with the slick from his cock but he doesn’t care. Not when you intertwine your fingers with his so seamlessly, so easily like you were meant to do so.

“I want to be with you. In whatever way you want to have me.” He murmurs, peering straight into your eyes.

Your heart stutters in your chest as you try to find the words to respond with. But you can’t. Your mind is still recovering from what you just did, and your heart is soaring. But there’s a part of you that’s hesitant. You knew it was unfair, for making Jungkook wait—but you were still scared. You were scared that he’d get bored of you, or what the two of you share one day. He may be ready to leave it all behind, but you don’t think you could deal with having to say goodbye to Jungkook in that way.

And it’s as if he can read your hesitation, he brings your intertwined hands to his lips before pressing a kiss to your knuckles, eyes still soft when they remain on your frozen state,

“I’ll wait,” he says softly, “For as long as you need me to. Until you’re ready.”

“J-Jungkook …” you mumble, flustered when you look away.

He nudges his nose against your cheek, pressing a smile to your jaw as you hum in embarrassment.

“I fucked up.” He says. You’re about to interrupt but he seems to have his own things to say. “I said things that hurt you. I did things that hurt you and I can’t ever forgive myself for that. I know you’re not punishing me and I never once thought that way. Even if that isn’t the case, the least I can do is wait. Not only because of what I did but because no matter what—I want to do this right this time.”

He looks up to you and his gaze is so earnest that it makes the words get trapped in your throat while you stare at him.

He smiles, soft and gentle when he rubs a thumb across your cheek.

“I’m serious about this. About you. Even if you decide that you don’t want this or that your feelings have changed … I’ll still be here.”

Jungkook takes your breath away as you gape at him. The silence he leaves you with only makes you reaffirm your stance on how you feel for him. Yet, you can’t give him an answer now. Not when your mind still remains hesitant, and Jungkook didn’t deserve hesitant. Even if he’s hurt you—he didn’t deserve your confusion. Neither of you did.

You lean into him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. It’s intimate this way, the way that his cum dries on your face and that his dick is still out. It’s almost funny, but Jungkook wouldn’t have it any other way. He’d wait—for as long as he had to. And he’d do it over and over again, for you.

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